The Prospect by Lucia Jordan

 
    Chapter
One
    They
were so many of them that night, and they all seemed to want a piece of her.
The club was trendy, and was usually just her kind of scene. But Wendy felt
like none of the male prospects seemed appealing.
    Oh, she
may have danced with them, even flirted. But one by one, they waned in her
estimation. Something always happened to make her get ticked – or turned,
off. Something was missing.
    And
then there he was.
    Dark,
arresting. He was watching her with penetrating eyes
and she liked his look on sight. Smart casual, clean shaven ,
refined. Just her type.
    He
started to make his way to where she stood with a couple of her friends. Sally,
a very impish blonde, cooed in appreciation as she watched him head their way.
“Please tell me that hotness is coming for me.”
    “Keep
dreaming, honey,” Bea, who was of Indian descent, muttered as she pasted a
come-on smile on her lips for the advancing male figure. “You can bet he’s
mine.”
    “You’re
both dreaming,” Wendy said with a good-natured huff, as she tossed her silky
auburn hair over her shoulder. “He knows what he wants. And that’s me.”
    Before
either of her friends could reply, he was right before them. In moments, he’d
charmed all three. “My name’s Alan,” he said after he’d ordered another round
of drinks for the ladies.
    “I
know,” Wendy said, surprising him. He lifted a brow in her direction. “You’re
Alan Pearce, and you run that footwear company, Kickstars. I’m a design
consultant; I’ve worked with your people once or twice. We’ve never really come
in contact, but the minute you came over, I recalled where I’d seen your face
before.”
    “I knew
there was a connection,” he said with a humorous smile, and Wendy could
virtually see both her friends go limp in defeat as they realize she’d been
right: it was Wendy he wanted. He took her hand now, the move confident,
possessive. “Dance with me?”
    Heck
yes. “Of course,” she said quite primly, throwing a look over her shoulder at
her friends that was more a victory glance.
    Okay,
so here she was in this swanky club dancing with a hunky millionaire. He moved
great which was a plus, but Wendy sort of knew how she really wanted things to
go.
    First
off, it was that time of the month where she was in the mood to fuck anything
that moved. Well, not really, but she was hot tonight. Hot for him. Every other
guy she’d met beforehand had left her cold. But the second he’d wrapped his
hand around her wrist and pulled her away to dance, she’d wished he was throwing her over his shoulder and out the exit.
    He drew
her close. The music demanded it; it was a slow number. Very stirring music,
coupled with the fact that she already found the atmosphere between them
getting charged.
    Wendy
wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt his arms slip around her waist. It
was a tight squeeze in the club so she didn’t really mind getting up close and
personal with Mr. Dark and Mysterious. Well, that’s what the press called him.
She’d seen his face enough times in the papers to know his reputation with
women was just as well covered as his success in his field.
    “You
feel good,” he told her, breaking into her thoughts. She squirmed at the feel
of his lips against her ear lobe. They were cheek to cheek ,
chest to chest. Groin to groin. She felt that tell-tale hardness between them and couldn’t help smiling. Hmm, jackpot.
    “I feel
starstruck,” she returned, softly chuckling. “I don’t get to dance with
handsome millionaires every day. Or is it billionaire?”
    “Does
it matter?”
    She
drew back slightly to look into his eyes. “No, it doesn’t,” she said firmly. It
truly didn’t. She’d wanted him even before she realized who he really was. The
sense of power, of command he exuded effortlessly, had nothing to do with his
bank balance, Wendy felt.
    “Good,”
he said in a calm tone. “Because when if I take you home with me tonight,