“Don’t you think you can control yourself in here alone with me?” he asked in a teasing voice.
“I’m the one who should be asking you that,” she said, snapping out the words. Too late, she wished she hadn’t, when she saw the darkening in his eyes. The look he was giving her had her pulse beating erratically at the base of her throat.
“Since you brought it up,” he said, his gaze roaming her figure from head to toe. “I was going to be a gentleman and control myself, but now I don’t think I will.”
She backed up and lifted her chin. “You think you’re going to force me to do something against my will?” she asked.
He smiled that sexy smile of his and she knew she’d lost the battle already. That darn dimple did her in. “No, but I may force you to admit something you’re being rather stubborn about. Although our relationship goals in life are different right now, at this very moment in time we want each other and there is no way you can deny it.”
“I do deny it.”
“Let’s see for how long.”
Dear Reader,
I live in Florida and one thing a Floridian knows about is how forceful a hurricane can be, as well as how to get prepared for it. And wouldn’t you know it, parts of this book were written by candlelight when Hurricane Fay decided to blow into town. How ironic is that?
I had fun writing Terrence Jeffries and Sherri Griffin’s story. Terrence was first introduced in my Desire™ story Tall, Dark … Westmoreland!, as the brother of Olivia Jeffries, my heroine in that story. Terrence, a football legend known as the “Holy Terror,” is a man who has no qualms about going after what he wants. Bottom line is that he wants Sherri. But first, together, they have to weather the storm, and that isn’t an easy thing for two strong-willed individuals. Trust me when I say this is a man-versus-nature book in a number of ways.
When I was writing this story, I ate a lot of snack foods while sitting up at night listening to my battery-operated radio when the power went out. I appreciated the DJ who kept everyone sane while the heavy rains and strong winds ripped through the city. Terrence is that type of disc jockey. He is also a man determined to win over the woman he loves.
I hope you enjoy Terrence and Sherri’s story.
Happy reading!
Brenda Jackson
About the Author
BRENDA JACKSON is a die “heart” romantic who married her childhood sweetheart and still proudly wears the “going steady” ring he gave her when she was fifteen. Because she’s always believed in the power of love, Brenda’s stories always have happy endings. In her reallife love story, Brenda and her husband of thirty-seven years live in Jacksonville, Florida, and have two sons.
A New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than fifty romance titles, Brenda is a recent retiree who worked for thirty-seven years in management at a major insurance company. She divides her time between family, writing and traveling. You may write to Brenda at PO Box 28267, Jacksonville, Florida 32226, USA; e-mail her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.brendajackson.net.
Temperatures
Rising
Brenda Jackson
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
Or simply visit
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
To the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.
To everyone who will be joining me on the 2009 Cruise to Canada. This one is for you!
He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind and the fool shall be servant to the wise of heart.
—Proverbs 11:29
Chapter 1
“Sherri, I would be honored if you joined me for dinner at my club tonight.”
Sherri Griffin never, ever got headaches, not in all her twenty-seven years. At least not until recently, when she’d taken the job of producer and program director of WLCK, a Key West radio station. That was when she had encountered Terrence Jefferies, a former NFL player for the Miami Dolphins and one of the station’s sports commentators.
He was also the owner of Club Hurricane, a popular nightclub in the Keys frequented by celebrities. From what she’d heard, when Terrence began playing pro football he had been nicknamed the Holy Terror by sportscasters because of his oftentimes surly attitude on the field. Besides Mean Joe Greene, there had not been another defensive tackle that had been so respected and feared. But when it came to pursuing women, he used an entirely different strategy. He was all smooth and debonair and never came across as intimidating or bad. Just relentlessly determined.
The man was also handsome as sin.
Drawing in a deep breath, she pulled herself together before looking up from the document she was reading to acknowledge Terrence’s entry into her office. Her answer today would be the same one she’d given him yesterday, the day before and for the past few weeks. Little did he know, it would take more than a gorgeous face, broad shoulders and tight buns to make her change her mind. She had to admit, though, there was definitely something about muscle shirts and jeans that clearly defined a well-built male body.
“Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll be busy,” she responded.
He simply smiled, and that softening around his lips actually sharpened her senses … as if they weren’t keen enough already where he was concerned. “One of these days I’m going to follow you home to find out just how you’re spending your evenings,” he said in a deep and throaty voice.
Definitely without you in them, she thought, wondering if perhaps she was making a mistake by avoiding him, as her best friend, Kimani Cannon, claimed. According to Kim, whenever the Holy Terror made a pass, any normal woman would run with it and rush for the goal line, not turn away like she constantly did. Kim thought the man was as gorgeous as any man had a right to be, and wildly sexy. Grudgingly, Sherri could only admit Kim was right.
But Terrence also had a reputation a mile long, one she would never be able to tolerate. She hadn’t been at the station a week when his breakup with some wealthy socialite had been plastered all over the front page of the Key West Citizen.
“Sherri?”
She returned her attention to him, wishing he wouldn’t say her name like that. Doing so always caused her to remember him in her dreams. And yes, she would admit she’d dreamed about the infuriating man a few times, but as far as she was concerned that meant nothing … other than the fact that she was a woman who could appreciate a stunning male with definite sex appeal.
She placed the documents in her