Shameless Playboy Read Free

           “I
am the new public face of Hartington’s, like my dearly departed father before
me,” he drawled, his green eyes sharp and mocking, as if he knew exactly what
she was thinking. “Just in time for the centenary relaunch.”
                 He
smiled then, that famous, devastating smile that Grace discovered could light a
fire within her even when she knew he must practice it in his own mirror.
                 “I
beg your pardon?” she asked, desperately, though she already knew. She could
not seem to believe it, to accept it, and her stomach twisted in protest, but
she knew.
                 That
smile of his deepened, showing off the indentation in his jaw that had been
known to cause hysteria when he flashed it about like the deadly weapon it was.
The smile that had catapulted him into the hearts and fantasies of so many
people the world over. The smile that drove so many women to distraction and
regrettable decisions.
                 But not me , she told herself
desperately. Never me!
                 “I
believe we’ll be working together,” he confirmed, smiling as if he knew better.
As if he knew her better than she
could ever hope to know herself. As if he had that power already, had claimed
it and who knew what else along with it. “I do so hope you’re the hands-on sort
of colleague,” he continued, in a voice that should have infuriated her and
instead made her feel weak. Susceptible. His smile deepened like he knew that,
too. “I know I am.”
     

  CHAPTER TWO

 
                 SHE
looked appalled, which was not a reaction Lucas often inspired in women. Not
even in starchy, standoffish females like this one, not that he met a great
many of that breed in the course of his usual pursuits.
                 “Working
together?” she echoed, sounding as if he’d suggested something unduly perverse. “Here?”
                 “That’s
the idea,” he said, smiling wider. “Unless, of course, you can think of a
better way to pass the time in this dreary office.”
                 Normally,
even the most constitutionally unimpressed—librarians and nuns and the like—melted
at the very hint of his smile. He had been wielding it as the foremost weapon
in his arsenal since he was still a child. It had felled entire battalions of
females across the globe. It was, in his practiced opinion, even more
devastating than that of his younger brother Nathaniel, who was currently up
for a Best Actor Sapphire Screen Award and whose inferior smile could be seen
via every press outlet on the planet. Lucas was not entirely certain why Grace
Carter, prim events manager for bloody Hartington’s, should be immune when
legions before her had dissolved at the merest sight of it.
                 In
point of fact, she scowled.
                 “I
certainly cannot,” she said, judgmental and starched stiff and horrified. “And
I’ll thank you to keep your suggestive comments to yourself, Mr. Wolfe.”
                 “How?”
he asked with idle curiosity, shifting toward her and watching her tense in
reaction.
                 “How
…?” she repeated icily. “By exercising restraint, assuming you are capable of
such a thing.”
                 “How
will you thank me?” he asked, enjoying the flash of something darker than
temper in her eyes, despite himself. “I am quite easily bored, you understand,
and therefore only accept the most shocking and ingenious displays of gratitude
these days. It’s my personal policy. One must have standards.”
                 “How
interesting,” she said smoothly. Too politely. “I was under the distinct
impression that your standards were significantly more lax.”
                 “A
common misconception,” Lucas replied easily. “I am not so much lax as laissez-faire.”