The enchanting blend of tomboy and temptress who stopped to help him tune his T-bird knew him only as Nikos—not Dominic Santorini, formidable empire builder, intimidating tycoon, forever pursued by females dreaming of emeralds not engines. The quirky innocent invited him home—where car talk led to caring, to an explosion of desire, to heat and hunger and utter abandon in each other's arms.
But morning had to come, and with it...betrayal? Was Lexie a corporate spy, intent on destroying his domain? Was love a luxury Nikos couldn't afford? Will two people learn to look beyond damning evidence to the truth known to their hearts?

He walked to the open door. And stopped dead in his tracks to watch her.

Like a kick in the gut, looking at her hit him hard. Dancing with the cat, head thrown back, long, slender throat arched and exposed, clad only in deep violet curve-hugging silk.

Watching those hands stroke Rosebud's fur and remembering them on his own skin...seeing her eyes closed, her hips swaying...he itched to touch her. Craving rocketed through him—no slow, syrupy desire, but raw, jagged desperation.

He opened the screen door and stepped inside.

She sensed his presence and whirled to face him.

The storm's energy intensified as lightning cracked the night. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lexie clasped the cat before her like armor. Her eyes widened, her pupils grew huge as she saw him standing in her doorway. She didn't speak. Her longings came to life before her, as if conjured up by a voodoo priestess. Sweat dampened his T-shirt, revealing the curves of every muscle she couldn't see. Her gaze caressed the bronzed hardness where she could. Razors of desire sliced, treacherous and deep, as she imagined licking up each rivulet of salty promise.

Dominic's nostrils flared as her scent drifted to him on the quickening breeze. His gaze devoured the gentle swell of her breasts as lace curved to barely cover her nipples, plunging into the sweet valley between and disappearing behind the cover of the cat held in front of her like a shield.

She was going to need better protection than a cat.

He stepped forward, propelled by raw hunger too long denied. Driven by dreams of rapture. Heated to a burning pitch by the ache of trying to deny what was real.

He was real. She was real. They were here, together, on this storm-tossed night. He would sort it all out later. For now, he had to touch her or lose his mind.

He stalked her like the predator he was.