My Temptation (Kingston Lane), page 1
ALSO BY T L SWAN
Stanton Adore
Stanton Unconditional
Stanton Completely
Stanton Bliss
Marx Girl
Gym Junkie
Dr. Stanton
Dr. Stantons: The Epilogue
Mr. Masters
Mr. Spencer
Mr. Garcia
The Italian
Ferrara
Our Way
Play Along
Find Me Alastar
The Stopover
The Takeover
The Casanova
The Do-Over
Miles Ever After
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2023 by T L Swan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781662512735
eISBN-13: 9781662512742
Cover design by @blacksheep-uk.com
Cover photography by Regina Wamba of ReginaWamba.com
GRATITUDE
The quality of being thankful;
readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.
I would like to dedicate this book to the alphabet,
for those twenty-six letters have changed my life.
Within those twenty-six letters, I found myself and live my dream.
Next time you say the alphabet, remember its power.
I do every day.
CONTENTS
Map
Map Key:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Follow the Author on Amazon
Chapter 1
Juliet
“Will you relax?” Chloe says.
Ugh. I look around the huge ballroom. “How did I let you talk me into coming here? I feel so out of place.”
“I bribed you, that’s how. Stop whining. You look hot.”
“True, and you are paying up. Dinner anywhere I want next week, remember?”
“McDonald’s sounds good.”
“Tight-ass.” Chloe is my best friend, whose magical talent is talking me into doing things that I don’t want to do.
“Remind me why we are here again?” I ask her.
“Because I want to have sexual intercourse with Dr. Grayson,” she whispers as she rearranges her boobs in her dress. “You know this already.”
I giggle. “I thought you just wanted to fuck him?”
“That too.”
Chloe is in lust with a doctor who works at our hospital. The problem is, so is most of the female population, and he doesn’t even know who we are.
“Who is that slapper he is talking to, anyway?”
I glance over to the beautiful redhead talking to Dr. Grayson. “I don’t know, but she’s hot.”
“I could take her.”
“Totally.”
The night is a glamorous event, auctions and celebrity trivia, and while I would love to tell you that my mind is on charity, that would be an appalling lie. This is so far from my thing, but I do admit that something has caught my attention: the stranger across the ballroom.
I noticed him the moment I walked in. Wearing a black dinner suit, he’s laughing and talking with a group of people. Dark-brown wavy hair, square jaw, and the biggest dimples when he smiles.
“I’ll get us some more drinks. Same again?” Chloe asks.
“Yes, please.” I watch her walk off to the bar, and then my eyes drift back over to him. He’s very tall, maybe six foot four. Broad shoulders and built, but there’s something about the way he’s talking to his group of friends. He’s all animated and laughing, and they’re hanging on his every word as he commands their attention.
I look around the beautifully decorated ballroom. I’ve never been to anything like this before. A fundraiser for the children’s medical-research wing at the hospital I work at. Nurses don’t usually get invites to things like this, but I’ve become friends with one of the doctors, and he invited Chloe and me to come along. I glance back over to the gorgeous stranger, and for the first time, we lock eyes. We stare at each other for a beat longer than usual, and then, as if perplexed, he tilts his chin to the sky as he takes a sip of his amber drink. Even the way he holds the glass is hot. His legs are wide and his back is straight, dominance oozing from his every pore. I snap my eyes away, embarrassed that I was caught perving. His wife is probably loitering around here somewhere.
I pretend to look around and then glance back to see Dr. Grayson walk over to him. They begin to chat like old friends, laughing and animated.
I bite my bottom lip to hide my smile. They know each other.
It could be double date heaven.
Chloe arrives back with our drinks. “I just saw Helen at the bar, remember her?”
“Not really,” I reply without even trying.
“Yes, remember, she worked in our wing a few years ago.” She continues on this long-winded story. But I hardly hear her. My attention is lost. I can feel his gaze on my skin, sense that he’s looking at me.
Over the next two hours, more of the same.
Every time I casually glance over, he’s staring at me. And the thing is, when I catch him, he doesn’t look away. He holds my gaze in a silent dare, as if willing me to do something . . . just what that is I’m not too sure.
Can a look give you goose bumps? Because I swear his is.
I can’t even say anything to Chloe because the reason we are here, the dick Dr. Grayson, hasn’t even looked her way.
“Is he going to talk to every fucking woman here tonight?” Chloe whispers angrily with her eyes locked on him. “I’m over here. You haven’t talked to me yet, you giant dickhead.”
“Right?” We watch Dr. Grayson for a moment. “What’s his first name again?” I ask.
“Blake.”
“Blake Grayson.” I twist my lips. “Hot name.”
“The name isn’t half of it.” Chloe eyes him. “He’d be great in bed.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Look at him, how could he not? He could just stand at the end of the bed naked, and I would orgasm.”
I giggle. “True.”
Dr. Grayson looks more like a model than a doctor, with sandy-brown hair and a square jaw, fit and buff.
“And he’s a pediatrician.” She sighs dreamily.
“That’s the killer, I have to agree.”
I glance back over to the handsome stranger to find him staring at me again. My stomach flutters. I can feel the air between us swirling, sexual tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife.
This man is a walking temptation.
“Lord have fucking mercy,” Chloe whispers.
“What?”
“Have you seen Dr. Grayson’s friend?”
Seen him? I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Who?” I act dumb.
“Oh fuck,” Chloe whispers, wide eyed as she looks over my shoulder. “He’s coming over.”
“Who?”
“The god.”
“What god?” My eyes widen.
“Act cool.”
“What?”
“Ladies,” a deep and husky voice purrs from behind me.
Oh crap.
I turn around to come face to face with piercing dark eyes.
Yep . . . he’s even better close up. “Hi,” I squeak.
What the hell is that mouse voice?
“I mean, hi,” I say lower.
Chloe smirks. “Hello.”
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says as he holds out his hand. “I’m Henley James.”
Henley James.
“Chloe Willcox.” Chloe smiles as she shakes his hand.
He turns his attention to me, and I stare at him, tongue tied.
“And you are . . .” He raises his eyebrow.
“Juliet.” I force a shy smile. He takes my hand and shakes it. His thumb dusts over the back of my hand as he maintains eye contact.
Oh . . .
“Juliet who?” He gives me a slow sexy smile, knowing full well the effect he is having on my poor deprived hormones.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Drinkwater.”
“And do you?” he repl
ies, his eyes still locked on mine.
“Do I . . .” I frown, confused.
“Drink water?”
“Yes, I do.” I fake a laugh that resembles a six-year-old’s.
Help.
Okay . . . what the hell? Please go away. You are too good looking for my brain to work.
“Would you like to go out with me, Juliet?” he asks.
My eyes flick to Chloe and then back to him. Did I hear that correctly? Huh?
“Well?” he prompts me.
“Um . . .” I take a sip of my champagne. “Like . . . on a date.”
His mischievous eyes light up. “Yes, like a date.”
“Oh, um.” Answer him, fool. “Okay.”
He gives me that slow sexy smile again. “Shall we say . . . Friday night?”
A goofy grin begins to come over my face, and I inwardly stop myself.
Act cool.
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” I reply.
He chuckles as if knowing my game. “Sure.” He pulls out a business card and passes it over. “Call me.” Then without warning he leans over and kisses my cheek; his lips linger for a beat on my skin, and the smell of his aftershave wafts around me. Then he turns and walks casually across the room back to his friends.
Chloe and I stare after him, shocked.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Chloe whispers. “Did that just happen?”
I glance down at the card he gave me.
H E N L E Y. J A M E S
ENGINEERING
044 289 0777
“He’s an engineer,” I whisper.
“Who gives a fuck. I would sleep with him if he was homeless.”
I giggle and turn my back to him. Can’t seem too interested.
Chloe clinks her glass with mine and winks. “Well done.”
It’s Thursday night. I’m on my couch, and I need to get my act together. I’ve been nervous about this all week. I chew on my thumbnail as I stare at the business card.
“Just call him,” Chloe says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“He could be a dick, that’s what.”
“Listen to me,” she says, deadpan. “He’s fucking gorgeous, and gorgeous men are an endangered species, practically extinct. So when you find one, you need to grab him with both hands. Not to mention that he asked you on a date and gave you his card. He wants you to call him. You’re not just some random chick off the street.”
“You’re right.”
“Here’s the plan: you call him, you two fall madly in love, and then you set your friend up with his friend, Dr. Grayson.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s so simple when you put it like that.”
She passes me my phone. “Just fucking do it.”
“I’m way overthinking this, aren’t I?”
“You are.”
I dial his number and quickly hang up.
Shit.
“Okay, what do I say again?”
“Oh my god, you’re killing me,” she gasps.
For the tenth time, I run through the conversation in my head: casual . . . concise, and make the date. Don’t be nervous. Who cares if it doesn’t work out—he’s probably a dick anyway.
Right!
I dial his number and hold my breath as it rings.
“Hello,” a woman’s voice answers.
My eyes widen. Who the hell is this? “Aah . . .” I hesitate. Is this his girlfriend or something?
“This is Henley James’s phone,” she says, all professional-like. “I’m his assistant, Jenny.”
“Oh.” Relief fills me. “Can I speak to Henley, please?”
“He’s not available right now. May I ask who is calling?”
My eyes widen. Is this a trap? Maybe he has a girlfriend, and this is her pretending to be his assistant to catch him out and plot my murder. “Um.” I hesitate as I try to think on my feet. My eyes flick to Chloe’s. “It’s Juliet.”
“Juliet Drinkwater?” she asks.
“Yes.” I frown. How does she know my name? “I am.”
“Juliet, Henley has had to take an unexpected trip overseas for a site inspection, but he left me with instructions if you were to call.”
What?
“Oh,” I reply, surprised.
“Yes, unfortunately he won’t be back until Friday, but he wanted for me to arrange a time on Friday night for dinner.”
What?
This is weird.
“Um . . . sure.” I shrug.
“Is seven thirty okay?”
“Yes.”
“May I have your address so that Henley can pick you up?”
This is weird. I am not giving some random woman my address. She could be his bunny-boiling serial-killer wife. “I’ll meet him there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, I’ve booked Monsieur on Riley for seven thirty.”
“You’ve already booked it?”
“I knew you’d call,” she replies, a twang of sarcasm in her voice.
I roll my eyes at my predictability. Of course you did. “Okay, thank you.”
“Goodbye, Juliet.”
“Goodbye.”
I hang up the phone and stare at Chloe in shock. “Friday night, seven thirty.”
“Fucking boom.” Chloe laughs. “And that’s how you do it.”
At 7:10 p.m. on Friday night, I get out of the Uber with a spring in my step.
I’m early, I know, but I want to get there before him so I get to watch him walk in and not the other way around. I’m nervous enough already.
I’m wearing a sexy black date dress that’s strapless and fitted, along with new high heels; I even had a blowout today at the salon.
I’ve got a good feeling about this . . . he was handsome and so nice; I mean, he even told his assistant about me when he had to travel overseas. It sounds like he’s as eager as I am.
I walk up the street and see the swanky gold sign:
MONSIEUR
Wow, what a place to have a first date.
I’ve wanted to come here for forever. This place is legendary. I’ve tried to get a table here before, but it has always been booked out for months in advance.
I push open the heavy doors and walk in. The waiter at the front desk smiles. “Hello. How may I help you?”
“Hi, I have a booking for seven thirty tonight?” I smile nervously as I look around. Wow, this place is something else. French furnishings. Big, beautiful murals are painted on the walls. Lamps with warm glow bulbs are everywhere.
“What was the name?” he asks.
“Um.” I shrug, unsure of the answer. “Henley James?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “Your table is right this way.” He leads me through a hallway and out to another area, then down some stairs, and we arrive at a quaint garden courtyard. It’s a different feel out here, more playful and intimate.
Music is playing, and the sound of jovial chatter floats through the air. Beautiful murals are painted on the brickwork. There are huge plants in terra-cotta pots, and fairy lights are strung up above, creating a canopy.
Wow, touchdown on the location.
He knows his stuff; this date is a ten already.
And then I see him . . . and my stomach flips. He’s sitting at a table for two in the corner as he waits.
He’s early too.
I had a sneaking suspicion that this was all an elaborate hoax. He glances up. Our eyes meet, and he instantly rises out of his chair to greet me.
He’s wearing a sport coat and pants, a black shirt with the top button down. I can see a peek of his chest.
“Hello.” He smiles as he kisses me on the cheek. “You look lovely.”
Oh, he smells good.
“Hi.” I swoon.
He pulls my chair out, and I slip into it. “Thank you.” I can feel that my face is a nervous shade of red.
Okay, scratch that: this date is a twenty.
I roll my lips and rearrange my cutlery on the table as my heart races. I’m so nervous it’s ridiculous.
He sits back in his seat. “So . . .”
“So . . .” I smile.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asks.
Tequila, bitch . . . all of it.
I pick up the drink menu. Quick, pick something.
“What would you like, sir?” she asks him.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” he replies in his deep sexy voice.
“Of course.” The waitress smiles.
Oh . . . the pressure.
“Do you like margaritas?” I ask timidly.
“I love them.” His eyes hold mine, and he bites his bottom lip as if to hide his smile.
“I’ll have a margarita, please,” I tell her.
