“Now you’re just toying with me,” she said
Inhaling sharply, Marissa forced herself to meet Beau’s gaze, when peering into those fascinating silver-gray orbs was the last thing she ever wanted to do. She couldn’t allow him to intimidate her. But when she did look into his eyes, something strange happened. All her bravado, all her strength of will vanished.
In this moment, he was just a man and she was just a woman. He might appear laid-back and easygoing, but beneath that languid exterior she detected a current of something hot, taut and incredibly alive. The man was raw dynamite. Sex personified.
She was in serious trouble, Marissa realized with a sinking sensation. She had longed for a repeat performance since she’d kissed him yesterday in order to win their latest game. And now, here he was, standing beside her, his gaze glued to hers, wearing nothing but a bedsheet and the sexiest damn smile she had ever laid eyes on….
Dear Reader,
To me, the most intriguing part of the writing process is coming up with compelling characters. Most of the time, I’m drawn to either nurturing heroines (must have been all those years I spent as a nurse) or shy types who learn to take risks (must have been all those years I spent as a wallflower). Secretly, however, there was a part of myself that scared me a little. A part I was afraid to face head-on. The cutthroat competitive part that allowed me to pursue publication with such intense determination.
With this book, I decided it was time to face this aspect of my personality. I was going to write about a highly competitive, highly driven heroine who has to learn to stop “doing” and just “be.” I knew then the only man in the world who could teach Marissa her life lesson was laid-back, easygoing Beau (must have been the past seven wonderful years with my own unhurried, rock-steady hero). Not only did writing about a different sort of heroine turn out to be a lot of fun, but I learned a great deal about myself in the process.
I hope you enjoy Marissa and Beau’s love story and I’d love to hear what you think about the book. You can write to me at Lori Wilde, P.O. Box 31, Weatherford, TX 76086 or e-mail me at [email protected] or visit me on the Web at www.loriwilde.com.
Lori Wilde
As You Like It
Lori Wilde
To Kathryn Lye—thank you for your sharp eye and great story sense.
Every author should be so lucky to have such an editor.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
1
“GREAT SEX isn’t just about mind-blowing orgasms and Fourth of July fireworks.”
Apparently not, Marissa Sturgess thought.
Leaning back in the tweed-cloth swivel chair, she doodled aggressively on her yellow legal pad and listened to Francine Phillips, the lab-coated clinician from the renowned Baxter and Jackson Sex Research Institute, address the Pegasus software team assembled around the paper-strewn wood-laminate conference table. The team consisted of the two remaining account managers—one of whom was Marissa—a system analyst, four programmers and the president of Pegasus, Judd Thompson.
If great sex was just about excellent technique she wouldn’t have found a rather insulting Dear Jane letter from her investment-banker boyfriend, Steve, propped against the salt and pepper shakers on her kitchen table that very morning, ending their three-month relationship.
As he put it, she was too intense in life in general and in the bedroom specifically. He needed someone more lighthearted, spontaneous and fun.
Yeah, okay, all right. Obviously, she was so intense Steve had resorted to dumping her via a scribbled note rather than confronting her face-to-face.
The coward. Running away and robbing her of the opportunity for rebuttal. She’d taken his stupid note, methodically shredded it into a hundred little pieces and flushed it down the toilet.
“Our extensive research with happily married couples has shown us that great sex demands not only trust, caring and honesty, but above all else…” Francine continued and then paused as if waiting for a drumroll.
Marissa tossed her head to shake away all thoughts of Steven J. Thortonberry the Third and get her mind back on the task at hand. She’d already wasted a good ten minutes fretting over the breakup. Enough was enough. Time to move on. She refused to linger on defeat.
Besides, it wasn’t losing Steve that bothered her so much as it was his accusation she was too serious in the sack.
“You go at sex like it’s a corporate takeover, Marissa. Can’t you ever just relax and enjoy the moment?” he’d asked her on several occasions.
In a nutshell? No. To Marissa’s way of thinking, relaxation was grossly overrated and a handy excuse for lazy people.
As the only child of Brigadier General Dwight D. Sturgess she had learned to attack life with verve and gusto; giving a hundred and twenty percent to any project she tackled, including sex. Her mother had died when she was a baby and it had just been her and her dad. At an early age, Marissa had discovered being the best was the only sure way to guarantee her father’s respect.
Her resulting lust for success had served her well in the business world, but in her personal life…well, in her experience most men didn’t appreciate a competitive woman.
At least not when it came to physical intimacy.
And now here was this plump, gray-haired, bespectacled grandmotherly woman standing behind the podium at the head of the conference table, a laser pointer in her hand, lecturing on the fundamentals of great sex. And according to the theory she was putting forth, Marissa simply didn’t measure up.
“Truly transcendental sex must include a sense of whimsy.” Francine used the pointer to highlight her presentation on the plasma screen featuring a laughing woman being pushed on a playground swing by an equally gleeful man.
“Whimsy?” The other account manager, Dash Peterson, asked.
“Fun, lightheartedness, humor.”
Dash winked suggestively across the table at Marissa. The man was a supreme egotist with a sleazy streak a mile wide. He fancied she wanted him as much as he wanted her and he was her chief competition for the promotion. Unfortunately, while Dash was a royal pain in the keester, he was also damn good at his job.
Marissa ignored him and focused her total attention on Francine. Baxter and Jackson made up thirty percent of Pegasus’s entire business and since premature labor had forced the current account director to leave her job three weeks earlier than planned, the sex institute’s account was now up for grabs. Whoever ended up managing that piece of the pie stood an excellent chance of becoming the next director.
And Marissa wanted the