The Seduction Request

Realizing That Matt Had Gotten Awfully Quiet, She Glanced Up And Caught Him Staring At The Front Of Her Shirt.

Again. All through dinner he’d been looking at her, undressing her with his eyes.

“They’re breasts, Matt. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty, so mine shouldn’t be all that fascinating.”

He had the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry, I just can’t get used to the way you look now.”

“Different, right?”

“Good, Em. You look really good.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s be clear on something, Conway. Friendship is one thing but I am not, under any circumstances, going to sleep with you again.”

Something hot and dangerous sparked in his eyes and her knees instantly went mushy. “That sounds like a challenge, Emily. And you know how much I love a challenge.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another stellar month of smart, sensual reads. Our bestselling series DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS comes to a compelling conclusion with Leanne Banks’s Shocking the Senator as honest Abe Danforth finally gets his story. Be sure to look for the start of our next family dynasty story when Eileen Wilks launches DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS next month and brings you all the romance and intrigue you could ever desire…all set in the fabulous Napa Valley.

Award-winning author Jennifer Greene is back this month to conclude THE SCENT OF LAVENDER series with the astounding Wild in the Moment. And just as the year brings some things to a close, new excitement blossoms as Alexandra Sellers gives us the next installment of her SONS OF THE DESERT series with The Ice Maiden’s Sheikh. The always-enjoyable Emilie Rose will wow you with her tale of Forbidden Passion—let’s just say the book starts with a sexy tryst on a staircase. We’ll let you imagine the rest. Brenda Jackson is also back this month with her unforgettable hero Storm Westmoreland, in Riding the Storm. (A title that should make you go hmmm.) And rounding things out is up-and-coming author Michelle Celmer’s second book, The Seduction Request.

I would love to hear what you think about Silhouette Desire, so please feel free to drop me a line c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. Let me know what miniseries you are enjoying, your favorite authors and things you would like to see in the future.

With thanks,

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor

Silhouette Desire

The Seduction Request
Michelle Celmer

MICHELLE CELMER

lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mom, you can find her in the garden weeding or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm real hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.

Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her Web site at www.michellecelmer.com, or write her at P.O. Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017.

To R.D.R.

We miss you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

One

“Dress it up however you like, Conway, but behind all your money and fame, you’ll always be trailer trash to the people of this town.”

The line went dead and Matt Conway snapped his cell phone shut, fighting off a sense of unease. He should have expected his homecoming would ruffle a few feathers, that some people from his past would never accept him, yet it still stung. Despite everything he’d accomplished, he felt like a vulnerable kid again.

Shaking off the all-too-familiar sensation, he clipped the phone on his belt and gazed around the partially constructed restaurant interior, dragging a bandana across his sweaty brow. He breathed in the scent of freshly cut pine, waiting to feel the satisfaction, the deep sense of accomplishment he’d more than earned. This was to be restaurant number twenty in the Touchdown Bar and Grill chain, yet this one erected in his hometown of Chapel, Michigan, held special meaning. It was a symbol.

The kid who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks now owned sprawling homes in three different countries. He’d traded in the beat-up vehicle of his youth for a medley of vintage cars any collector would salivate over. He had achieved nearly every financial goal he’d set for himself.

So why, he wondered, would a man who had accomplished everything he’d set out to do feel this…dissatisfaction? Why would he feel deep down that he was still, as his mystery caller had so succinctly put it, trailer trash. He worked longer hours, pushed himself to the absolute limit, yet that gratification, that feeling that he’d finally arrived, eluded him.

He was sure this restaurant would be the key. If he ever finished it, that is. Each day dawned with a new problem to delay construction further. They were set to open on Labor Day, only two months away, and were already three weeks behind schedule. He had too much riding on this. While there was always the possibility a restaurant could fail, the odds were stacked against him this time.

Chapel, Michigan, population ten thousand, wasn’t exactly known for its trendy night spots. Touchdown would either bring in patrons from surrounding areas and boost revenue for the city, or it would flop within the first year.

It was a risk he was willing to take. A risk he had to take.

Someone called his name, and he turned toward the voice, grinning when he spotted his best friend, Tyler Douglas, standing in the doorway. Ty cleared the space between them in two long strides and pulled Matt into a bear’s embrace, slapping him hard on the back. “Damn it’s good to see you. What’s it been, almost six months since I visited California?”

“At least that.”

“So how does it feel? Your first return home in what, eleven years?”

“Things have changed a lot.” But not so much that he didn’t get the same feelings of inadequacy. The impression that when people looked at him, they would forever see his parents. In California, people saw a man who had everything he could possibly want.

Honestly, he couldn’t decide who was more disillusioned.

“I should have known you couldn’t sit around and watch without getting your hands dirty.” Ty spun in a slow circle. “They’ve come a long way since construction started.”

“Thanks for keeping an eye on things for me. And I can’t thank you and your parents enough for selling me the property. I know it’s been in your family for a long time. Sitting right on Main Street, I couldn’t ask for a better location.”

“Are you kidding? You’re part of the family.” Ty leaned against a stud that would eventually support the wall separating the dining area from the game room. “As a matter of fact, that’s sort of why I’m here. I have an important favor to ask.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation. “Just name it.”

“I want you to seduce my sister.”

Matt’s heart skipped a beat—then it felt as though it had stopped beating altogether. If there was a last woman in the world he wanted to seduce—or more to the point, should seduce—it was Ty’s sister Emily. “You’re kidding. Right?”

Ty’s expression was serious. “I know you guys had some kind of falling out before you left for California, but before you say no, hear me out.”

“Falling out” was a mild way of describing what had transpired between himself and Emily. More like, he’d broken her heart and deserted her. But to have led her into thinking there was hope of a relationship would have been dishonest. Despite what he’d felt for her, she deserved more than he was willing to give. And though they’d vowed to remain friends, things had never quite been the same after their one night together.

He’d never been the same.

But it wouldn’t hurt at least to hear Ty out before he said hell no. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a seat on an unoccupied sawhorse. “I’m listening.”

“There’s a problem with Emily’s boyfriend.”

A sensation that felt too much like jealousy soured his stomach. Of course Emily would have a boyfriend. She was a grown woman. Did he really think she’d been in limbo all these years, unable to love anyone but him?

Well, a guy could hope…

No. He shouldn’t hope things like that. He didn’t. He wanted Emily to be happy. She deserved to be happy. “What kind of problem?” he asked Ty.

“I know she wants to get married and have a family, but this guy is in no hurry to commit. It’s a dead-end relationship. I think deep down she’s unhappy but isn’t ready to admit it to herself. I’m sure it’ll only take a nudge and she’ll realize the mistake she’s making. That’s where you come in.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Spend time with her. Show her how much happier she could be without him. My parents and I have tried to talk to her about it, but you know how stubborn she can be. She’ll stay with the guy on principle alone if it proves us wrong.”

“Ty, I’m not in the market for a wife and family. If that’s what she’s looking for, she’s not going to find it in me, and I won’t lie.”

“I’m not asking you to lie. By all means be honest with her.”

“I’m a little fuzzy on the seducing concept. How far do you expect me to take this?”

“As far as you have to.”

Matt could hardly believe what Ty was suggesting. “We are talking about the same Emily, right? Your twin sister. The same sister guys were afraid to ask out in high school for fear you would break their legs? That Emily?”

“You know, you could try just being her friend.”

And suppose a friendship wasn’t enough? It hadn’t been back then. And though hurting Emily in the past had been unavoidable, he didn’t want to hurt her again. He hated the idea that she was unhappy, but he wasn’t necessarily the man to remedy that.

Ty’s tone turned dark. “There is something else. My parents and I have reason to believe this guy might be into something illegal. He and Emily work together. If he’s caught, she could be guilty by association.”

Apprehension raised the hair on the back of his neck. “Illegal how?”

“He owns a nursery. They have shipments coming in constantly from all over the world and he’s always going out of the country on business.”

Genuine fear clenched his gut. “Drugs?”

“That was our first thought.”

“So tell her you’re suspicious.”

“What, and you think she would actually believe me? This is Emily we’re talking about. The queen of I’m right and you’re wrong. She would laugh in my face.”

Matt cursed under his breath, and growled, “Let’s just beat the guy within an inch of his life and make him break up with her.”

“And you know exactly what Emily would do.”

He did. She was so damned stubborn she would stay with the guy just to spite them.

“Emily doesn’t do anything halfway. If she breaks off the relationship, there’s no way she’ll keep working with him and the problem will be solved.” Ty’s tone turned pleading. “If you won’t do it for me, do it for my parents.”

When Ty put it that way it was difficult to say no. Growing up, the Douglases had been Matt’s only real family. He’d shared countless dinners with them, slept over a thousand times, had even gone with them on family vacations. When his own parents couldn’t pull themselves out of a drunken stupor long enough to buy something as basic as new tennis shoes, Ty and Emily’s parents always seemed to find a pair—brand new no less—lying around the house that just happened to be the right size.

Matt owed them. And God knows he owed Emily.

If Ty was right about her boyfriend, it would be worth the sacrifice. No one was going to mess with Emily and live to tell about it as long as he was around.

“I’ll do it,” he told Ty. “Just tell me when and where.”

Emily Douglas pulled the company truck into a parking spot, cut the engine and peered through the windshield at the partially constructed building. Touchdown Bar and Grill was all anyone in town seemed to talk about lately, and honestly, she didn’t see what all the fuss was about. And despite her vow to never set foot within its sport-memorabilia-swamped bowels, here she was.

Swell.

If there had been any way to pass this job off to someone else, she’d have done it. But with Alex out of town, and as manager of the nursery, it was her direct responsibility to give his royal highness, the millionaire, the estimate on landscaping. To add to an already miserable situation, this could be the account to pull Marlette Landscape out of its recent financial distress. She would never forgive herself if she blew this. And Alex, her wayward boss, would never live down the failure of driving the family business into bankruptcy. He meant well, he just had no head for business, and frankly, Emily was growing tired of covering his butt.

In another six months it would be out of her hands. She would have the money to buy the property from her father, then she could get a business loan for the building and her dream of owning her own flower shop would become a reality. But she would never raise the money without a job. She needed this account. The commission would push her that much closer to her goal. She would sacrifice just about anything, including her pride, to see it through.

And wouldn’t Matt—People’s sexiest restaurateur—be surprised to see her darkening his doorway? She’d done a fair job of avoiding him the past eleven years. Not difficult, considering Mr. I Only Date Supermodels Now never came back to Michigan to visit the little people. Apparently the phrase, “I’d still like us to be friends,” fell from his lips as readily as the sweet words he’d whispered to her that night on the beach. He hadn’t meant those either.

But this was business. She had to put aside what had happened all those years ago and act like a professional.

Yet, as she reached for the door handle, a flare of nerves heaved her stomach into turmoil.

What would he be like after all these years? As a teenager he’d been cocky and arrogant. At least, that’s what he’d wanted people to think. He’d never come right out and admitted it, but she knew he was ashamed of his family and probably as insecure as she’d been. That common thread had bound them and kept them close. But he wasn’t poor anymore. She was sure the vulnerable kid who hid behind the bravado, the Matt she’d been friends with, was long gone. Oddly enough, the thought made her sad.

The sun burned white-hot overhead and sweat trickled down her cheek. No point sitting here melting. The sooner she got in there, the sooner she could leave.

She stuck out her chin, shoved open the truck door and stepped down. Sweaty male construction types in varying degrees of undress gave the site an interesting atmosphere, but she didn’t see anyone resembling Matt. Aware that more than a dozen pairs of eyes were suddenly riveted in her direction, she held her head high, prayed she wouldn’t stumble over her own feet, and walked through the open door of the restaurant. It took her eyes a minute to adjust in the dim light, then she scanned the interior and—

No one was there.

Any apprehension she’d been feeling was instantly replaced by a ripple of irritation. Granted, her time wasn’t as valuable as his, but he could at least have the courtesy to show up when he made an appointment.

“Emily?” someone said from behind her. “Emily Douglas, is that you?”

She froze in place and her heart started doing a crazy dance in her chest. She knew that voice. Its deep baritone rumbled through her, awakening a long-dead awareness.

You’re over him, she reminded herself.

She forced herself to turn and face him, confused for a second by the man standing there. Missing was the thousand-dollar suit she’d expected. He was dressed similarly to the other workers, in faded carpenter jeans and a sweat-soaked muscle shirt that clung to his tanned, muscular chest. The nails she’d expected to be manicured were uneven and work-worn and she had the feeling his hands were probably calloused as well. Dirt and sweat streaked down his face, a red bandana covered his hair, and dark sunglasses masked his eyes. But that grin was unmistakable. Riding somewhere in between a smirk and a smile, it was burned permanently into her memory. Matt the millionaire was one of the sweaty construction people.

He slipped the glasses off and staring back at her were eyes the deepest, richest shade of brown. She would never forget those eyes—the way they’d looked at her that night. The tenderness they’d held. And the regret she’d seen there the next morning.

“Emily Douglas.” He looked her up and down, as if awed by the sight of her. “I barely recognized you.”

And he looked exactly the same. The charming, boyish good looks of his youth had matured right along with the rest of him. In photos and television interviews he always seemed larger than life. An icon. In person, standing here in front of her, he looked like the same old Matt.

A dull ache wrapped itself around her heart and wouldn’t let her breathe.

This is business, Emily reminded herself. Just do your job.

“You called for an estimate?” she asked.

An estimate?

Matt stood there, robbed of his voice, completely mesmerized by the woman standing before him. When she’d climbed out of the truck, her legs a mile long, her backside curved under snug khaki shorts, he’d just about forgotten his own name. Oh, man, why hadn’t Ty warned him? The rough-and-tumble tomboy was now one-hundred-percent, heart-stopping female.

Unable to do little more than gape, he took it all in, from the pale-blond hair he’d once feathered his fingers through, down the column of her throat to the softly rounded breasts that had fit so perfectly in his palms. His gaze traveled lower, to the toned stomach he’d pressed kisses to, and her legs…damn. They were long and trim and looked as smooth as the finest Italian silk. And if memory served, they were. He could still distinctly recall how they’d felt wrapped around him.

When she’d first emerged from the truck, he’d been sure they’d sent the wrong person. It had been Ty’s idea to call the nursery where Emily worked, under the guise of needing plants—which Matt really did need. He’d made it clear he would not, under any circumstances, lie to Emily or mislead her in any way.

Emily’s expression turned wary. “You did call for an estimate.”

“An estimate,” he repeated, wondering where his brain had wandered off to. This wasn’t going at all as planned. He could barely string a coherent sentence together. He hadn’t expected to feel this way. Of course, Emily always did have a way of making him feel things he shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just a little surprised to see you. You look…different.”

Her eyebrow quirked slightly. “Different? Gosh, Conway. I’m…flattered.”

“I didn’t mean it like—”

“Look. I realize this is uncomfortable for both of us, but I have a job to do. Let’s try to make the best of an inconvenient situation. Okay? I’ll get you your estimate and get out of your life.”

Damn. This was going to be a little harder than he’d expected. But he had never been one to back down from a challenge. Especially when the stakes were so high. All he needed to do was figure out an angle. Every woman had a weakness. Jewelry, furs, whatever.

Once he determined Emily’s, he’d have her eating from his hand.

Two

Matt took a step toward Emily. Close enough to catch a light, flowery scent drifting off her skin. The last time he’d been this close to her, they’d both smelled of the bonfire her father had built on the beach, the fire they sat by long after Ty and Emily’s parents had gone to bed.

Back then he’d never imagined Emily wearing perfume. It had always been too girly, too feminine for someone like her. Now it was perfect. She was perfect. Just the right height, the ideal combination of lean muscle and female softness. Expressive blue eyes deep enough to drown in.

Or freeze him solid, as they were doing now.

“Well?” Emily tapped her booted foot in the dirt.

“Whatever you want,” he said.

“Great.” She plucked a pen from her shirt pocket and jotted something down on the form attached to her clipboard. “What were you thinking about for the interior? Ferns? Philodendrons? Real or silk? Is there a particular theme you follow in all the restaurants?”

“I have a binder with all the specs.” He gestured to the door and she started toward it, distinctly aware of his presence behind her. Too close behind her, she realized as he reached past her to open the door and his sweat-slicked arm brushed hers. No expensive cologne for him today. He smelled like a man who was no stranger to physical labor.

He smelled good.

She squinted against the sudden shaft of sunlight slanting across her face as she stepped outside.

“Hey, boss!” One of the workers waved Matt over. “The inspector is here. We got a problem.”

“Give me a minute,” he called and turned to Emily. “I’ve got the stuff in my car.”

She followed him to a dusty black SUV parked next to the construction trailer. Honestly, she’d expected something convertible and red with an anorexic blonde permanently fixed in the front seat for that special touch.

He opened the passenger’s-side door and grabbed a binder off the front seat. “This has photos of the other restaurants and all the information you’ll need. The inside plants should all be live. No silk or plastic. Does your company handle maintenance?”

“No, but we can recommend someone.” She flipped through the binder, surprised by what she saw. While a few of the older members of the city council had been openly opposed to building yet another unsightly bar in town—and others had protested out of what she was sure was jealousy—Emily had to admit, Touchdown wasn’t a bad-looking place. Classy in fact, but casual enough to stop in for a beer and a bite after work. It might even bring in business when her flower shop went up on the vacant lot next door.

“We like to keep the landscaping consistent,” he said.

She flipped past a photo that was obviously Southern-based. “I hate to disappoint you, but you’ll be hard-pressed to find a palm tree that will grow in Michigan.”

The edge of his mouth quirked up slightly. “As consistent as the climate will allow. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute?” He nodded in the direction of the men waiting for him.

“Go for it.”

“Give me a holler if you need anything.”

Emily jotted a few notes on her clipboard, watching Matt in her peripheral vision. He might be dressed like the other men and was unshaven and dirty like them, but he had an air about him that garnered respect—demanded it even. The intelligence shining behind his eyes, the way he looked at a person, as if he could see inside their head.

He used to look at her that way. Sometimes she swore he could read her thoughts. How many times had she silently willed him to kiss her, to tell her she was anything but a pal? She would wish so hard for it, her head would hurt and her eyes would sting. But he’d never treated her as anything but a good friend.

Someday he would see, she’d told herself at least a thousand times. But Matt didn’t date girls like her. He preferred cheerleaders—the pretty girls. Still, she took it for granted that he would always be around, that someday she would get her chance. Then he’d earned a football scholarship that guaranteed he’d be taken away from her forever.

Every time he talked about leaving Michigan, about getting a new start in California and never looking back, a piece of her heart would die. She’d been in love with him since the third grade when his family had moved to Chapel. She could barely remember a time when he wasn’t around. He was like family.

To Emily, he had been her whole world.

But as the end of that final summer drew nearer and his leaving loomed closer, something changed. She would catch him watching her, and the look in his eyes, the longing she saw there, would make her shiver with awareness. It was as if she possessed something he desperately wanted, but knew he couldn’t have. For the first time in her life she began to feel feminine and pretty. It had occurred to her that maybe he actually had feelings for her and was afraid to make the first move. Though the thought of any female turning down a man like Matt had been completely out of her realm of imagination, she knew he had a vulnerable side he rarely let show. Maybe he was as afraid of rejection as she was.

It was then that she’d decided to tell him how she felt. She knew it wouldn’t stop him from leaving—she would never ask him to give up his dream for her—but she’d thought he could come back and visit, and maybe, eventually, she could relocate to California. Yet every time she tried to tell him, she couldn’t make herself say the words. Until that last weekend up at the cottage.

Sitting by the fire, she’d finally worked up the nerve to say it. To say “I love you.” And before she’d even gotten all the words out he’d kissed her.

She’d given him everything on that beach, surrendered her innocence to him. She woke the following morning feeling lighter than air, until Matt had said they needed to talk. His somber expression—the regret in his eyes—said more than words ever could. Still she’d listened numbly as he explained that while he cared for her deeply—she was his best friend—he was in no position to start a relationship with anyone. He had dreams to fulfill, a new life to start in California. But he still wanted them to be friends. They would always be friends. A few days later he left, and, true to his word, he’d never looked back.

Not to her anyway.

Pain, stark and biting, took hold of Emily. She never should have come here. Tears burned behind her eyes and she turned her attention to the estimate forms. She had a job to do.

She walked the perimeter of the building, taking notes and measurements, then went inside and took down the information she needed there. When she stepped back outside, Matt was still deep in conversation with the building inspector. They were bent over what looked like blueprints spread across the hood of a car.

The silly girl in her longed to talk to him again, to search his face for even a glimpse of the Matt she used to love, while the practical Emily convinced her not to bother.

The practical Emily always won.

Matt watched Emily, head lowered as she scribbled something on her clipboard, wondering what was going on in her head, wondering what he was going to do to get back on her good side. Expensive gifts were a favorite of the women he dated, but somehow he couldn’t see Emily impressed by glitter. Short of seeing him strung up by his toes and tortured, he wasn’t sure what would impress her.

“Mr. Conway?”

Matt tuned to Eric Dixon, the building inspector. “Eric, I’ve known you since the third grade. Would you please call me Matt?”

Eyes full of contempt, Dixon said, “As I was saying, Mr. Conway, the ratio of square feet to lot space is off.”

“By twenty lousy feet.”

“Regardless, you’re either going to have to reduce the amount of square footage or increase the size of the parking lot.”

Matt snapped a tight rein on his anger. There was no way he was going to let this weasel get in his way. The restaurant was going up. He would find an angle. He always did. “What I find interesting is that no one mentioned this when the plans were approved. And only now that the structure is half built do you point out the problem.”

Eric’s smile was smug and full of satisfaction. “It was a regrettable oversight.”

One you’ll regret more than I will, Matt thought. If they could play hardball, so could he. He took a step toward Eric, amused to see the man take a nervous step back. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with the fact that in high school I beat you out as starting quarterback and got lucky with your girlfriend in the bed of my truck? Didn’t you end up marrying her?”

It was only a rumor; he’d supposedly scored with so many of the girls in high school, but it served its purpose. Eric’s face turned an interesting shade of purple and the veins in his temple bulged. At twenty-eight, with a beer gut that hung over his belt and nicotine stains on his teeth and fingers, he looked like a heart attack in the making.

“I’m not shutting down construction,” Matt said.

“You’ve got until next week to bring it up to code, then I’m shutting you down.” Eric slammed his briefcase, and flashed Matt a greasy smile. “Have a nice day.”

Though the majority of the city had been supportive of his restaurant, there were a few people who had given him nothing but grief. The same people who’d had so little tolerance for him when he was a kid. No matter how well he did in school, or how he excelled in sports, thanks to his alcoholic parents he’d been labeled a troublemaker by some—guilty by association. Despite his recent fame, living in L.A. afforded him a certain anonymity. In Chapel, a traffic violation won you a spot in the local paper’s “Police Beat” column.

He hadn’t let them win back then and he wouldn’t let them now.

Matt heard an engine start and turned to see Emily’s truck pulling out of the lot. She was leaving before he’d had a chance to smooth things over. He felt as if he was being pulled in a dozen different directions at once.

He watched her truck disappear around the corner and felt more determined than ever to make amends. The only question was, how?

He was pretty sure there would be groveling involved.