Read an excerpt from Improper Conduct:
Isabel Grayson... well, if just seeing her name didn’t give him a hard on.
Having taken up residence in Helen’s Cybercafé, trendily painted in crackled pale yellow with overstuffed sofa and chairs near a fireplace, Nick Novak was sitting at one of the computers imbedded straight into a glass table lined up against a wall. He needed his internet fix along with his morning coffee. His high-end laptop had crashed a couple of months before, and he still hadn’t replaced it because he always found a better use for the money.
He fingered the socialite’s calling card, admired the rich texture of the stock and the simple elegance of the design. Both reflected Isabel herself, he thought, tamping down his initial physical reaction and flicking the card straight into the nearest waste container.
“What? You’re really not going to get in touch with her?” demanded owner Helen Rhodes, a blond knockout and formerly a baby corporate webmistress in another life.
Narrowing her green gaze on him made the small mole at the corner of her right eye all but disappear. “Aren’t you curious about what she wants?”
Nick thought about it for a moment and lied. “Nope.”
“But it must be important. She’s called every day that you’ve been gone.”
He’d been gone for more than a week this time. So Isabel was persistent in addition to being elegant, smart and a bitch on wheels.
What he said was, “I’m just not interested in the problems of a poor little rich girl.”
“Go on, get out of here, before I do something really radical like revoke your caffeine and internet privileges forever.”“Oh, no, anything but that,” Nick said, logging off the internet as he rose. He’d already taken care of a few business inquiries, and the rest of the email could wait. “Later.”
He exited the café, which faced the six-corner intersection where Bucktown and Wicker Park met in an eclectic fusion of mindsets. The street was filled with commuters - nine-to-five conservative suits and skirts heading for the rapid transit station down the block.
Nick rushed up the flight of stairs to his business and home, albeit the building was zoned commercial only, that was situated over Annie’s Attic, lingerie store extraordinaire.
But he wasn’t alone on the staircase. A woman was coming down toward him. One with luscious long legs, a graceful demeanor and a familiar if more lovely face than he even remembered. She had the same good bone structure, the same flawless skin, the same perfect features, but at the moment, the delicate flesh around her luminous blue eyes was drawn and tight, making her seem decidedly unhappy.
Nick’s smile faded.
Isabel Grayson had shattered him emotionally once.
What the hell made her think he was going to give her a chance to do so again?