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  SEDUCING HIS HEART

  Manhattan Dinner Club, 2

  Jean C. Joachim

  Contemporary Romance

  Moonlight Books

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  A Moonlight Books Novel

  Sensual Romance

  Seducing His Heart

  Copyright © 2014 Jean C. Joachim

  Print book ISBN: 9781517

  First E-book Publication: February 2014

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by Tabitha Bower

  Proofread by Renee Waring

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Moonlight Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Moonlight Books

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Homer, my rescue pug. He is my muse, my constant companion and my friend. He has listened to the stories of every book I’ve written and finally made it into this one. Thank you, Homer for your patience and loyalty.

  Acknowledgment

  Many thanks for your help and support in the creation of this book: Larry Joachim, Marilyn Lee, Kathleen Ball, Sandy Sullivan, my Tuesday Tales friends, JJ’s Book Buddies, my editor, Tabitha Bower, my proofreader, Renee Waring, Sandy Sullivan, and to my readers.

  Other books by Jean C. Joachim

  FIRST & TEN SERIES

  GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK

  BUDDY CARRUTHERS, WIDE RECEIVER

  PETE SEBASTIAN, COACH

  DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK

  THE MANHATTAN DINNER CLUB

  RESCUE MY HEART

  SEDUCING HIS HEART

  SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME

  TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE

  HOLLYWOOD HEARTS SERIES

  IF I LOVED YOU

  RED CARPET ROMANCE

  MEMORIES OF LOVE

  MOVIE LOVERS

  LOVE’S LAST CHANCE

  LOVERS & LIARS

  His Leading Lady (Series Starter)

  NOW AND FOREVER SERIES

  NOW AND FOREVER 1, A LOVE STORY

  NOW AND FOREVER 2, THE BOOK OF DANNY

  NOW AND FOREVER 3, BLIND LOVE

  NOW AND FOREVER 4, THE RENOVATED HEART

  NOW AND FOREVER 5, LOVE’S JOURNEY

  NOW AND FOREVER, CALLIE’S STORY(series starter)

  MOONLIGHT SERIES

  SUNNY DAYS, MOONLIT NIGHTS

  APRIL’S KISS IN THE MOONLIGHT

  UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON

  LOST & FOUND DUET (with BEN TANNER)

  LOVE LOST & FOUND

  DANGEROUS LOVE, LOST & FOUND

  NEW YORK NIGHTS NOVELS

  THE MARRIAGE LIST

  THE LOVE LIST

  THE DATING LIST

  SHORT STORY

  SWEET LOVE REMEMBERED

  SEDUCING HIS HEART

  Jean C. Joachim

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  The ding of the elevator startled Bess Cooper. The doors opened, revealing a man and woman in a heated clinch, kissing as if the end of the world was imminent. Bess cleared her throat. The handsome man cracked an eyelid open and turned his head slightly. He eased the woman he was smooching away and cast a sardonic look at the Bess.

  “Who the hell are you? If you’ve come to see the apartment, it’s been sold,” he said, straightening up.

  “I live here. Who the hell are you?” Bess rested her fists on her hips.

  “I live here, too.” The man pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

  “So, you’re the new owner of fifteen B?” Tall, lean, gorgeous black hair. And those eyes. Wow. Familiar face.

  “They told me a little, old lady lived in fifteen A.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth.

  “‘They’ is a real estate agent?”

  He nodded.

  “Big surprise. An agent who lies,” she sniffed, shifting her weight. “You’re my new neighbor?”

  “Guilty. And you’re the little, old lady?” His cool gaze traveled her length and back in a heartbeat. A slow grin curled his perfect lips. “Remarkably well-preserved.”

  Bess chuckled in spite of herself, covering her mouth.

  “Hey, Whit…” The brunette in the elevator tugged on his lapel.

  “Whit? Now I remember where I’ve seen you. Whitfield Bass. You do the news, right?”

  He smiled and executed a half bow. “Again, guilty as charged.” He placed his palm on the lower back of the woman with him, and they stepped out. “This is Candy Wayne. And you are?” At the mention of her name, the rail-thin woman with short, dark hair snaked her arm around Whit’s waist, moving up against him.

  “Bess Cooper.” She extended her hand.

  Whit shook it, but Candy remained glued to his side, treating Bess to a frosty stare.

  “Nice to meet you both,” Bess said.

  “I’ve seen you before.” Whit stroked his stubbly chin.

  “I model. What do you do?” Candy asked.

  “I cook,” Bess replied.

  “Oh, you’re a housekeeper.” The brunette looked down her nose at Bess.

  “Got it!” Whit snapped his fingers. “Not a housekeeper, a baker. On TV. Baking with Bess, right?” His face lit up.

  Bess blushed. “Guilty.”

  “Aren’t you a little chubby for TV?” Candy raised thick, fake, black lashes to shoot a disapproving glance at Bess’s hips.

  “Not according to my producer.” Bess entered the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby.

  “You don’t look chubby to me,” Whit commented, resting his gaze on her chest. “Just right,” he said, as the doors closed.

  Bess chuckled as the car descended. When she reached the first floor, her favorite doorman, Crash, was manning the desk.

  “’Morning, miss.” He tipped his hat.

  “Got a new neighbor. What’s your opinion, Crash?” She sidled up to the man in uniform.

  "Not too friendly. Dates those fashion models. Just another celebrity to me, miss.”

  “Is he a serial dater?”

  “Yeah. This guy gets around.” Crash blushed at his own words.

  Bess cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t surprise me. Famous newscaster. Handsome guy.”

  “Now, don’t you go falling for him, Miss Bess. He’s a player. You’re a nice gal. Hate to see you get hurt by his type.”

  She patted his arm. “Thanks, Crash, that means a
lot. I’m immune. Besides, I’ve got Terry, and I’m not a serial dater.”

  He chuckled. “No, ma’am. You stick to one guy. At least one guy at a time.”

  Now, it was Bess’s turn to flush. “I try, Crash.”

  “This guy. The cop. He’s okay. I like him.”

  “Glad you approve. I’m off to buy groceries. See you later.” Crash smiled and tipped his hat again. Bess stepped out into the pleasant, mid-September, morning air.

  Her brow furrowed as she wondered what it would be like sharing the hallway with a man who had hot and cold running women. Probably at all hours, too. While the image of his straight jaw, clear eyes that seemed to strip her naked, and great body swam through her brain, an alarm sounded. He’s a womanizer. Stay away.

  She straightened her shoulders as she proceeded up Central Park West to 81st Street then West to Zabar’s. I have Terry. I don’t need him. Whitfield Bass, you can keep your womanizing ways. Don’t darken my doorstep.

  Entering the gourmet food store, she headed for the coffee section. After buying small quantities of several brands, she picked up an assortment of teas. She had filled two grocery bags by the time she was finished.

  Bess picked them up, surprised at how light they were. Tea weighs nothing. She marched down the street, lost in thought about what to make with each beverage.

  Crash opened the door to The Wellington, and Bess nodded to him as she continued on her way upstairs. Her mind on her baking, she didn’t see Candy Wayne barreling toward her until the model had landed. The skinny young woman plowed into Bess, knocking her bags to the ground, the contents scattering.

  “Broken heel,” Candy said, holding up half of a four-inch spiked pump before she teetered onto the elevator. When Bess swore under her breath, her pug, Dumpling, began to bark.

  She looked disheveled, top half-tucked in, skirt askew. “Sorry. Sorry,” the model mumbled as the doors shut. The elevator went on its way. Bess heard scratching at her door as the one down the hall opened. Whit, wearing nothing but a fluffy white terry robe, stuck his head out.

  “What the hell is that racket?”

  “My dog. When she hears me, she barks.” Bess was on her knees, sweeping boxes of tea and bags of coffee together.

  “What have you got in there? A Rottweiler? A shepherd?”

  Bess laughed. “A pug. She thinks she’s a Rottweiler.”

  “A pug?” He chuckled. “Do you need a hand?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Did Candy do that?”

  Bess clamped her lips together into a fine line and continued to scoop her purchases up. Dumpling kept barking.

  Whit padded barefoot out of his apartment and knelt down next to Bess. He picked up several items and read the labels. “Chai tea, Kona coffee, Loganberry jam…”

  Bess plucked each container out of his hand one-by-one and whisked it into the bag. “I’m doing some research on coffee and tea.”

  “How interesting. My research involves sifting through dry, boring article after dry, boring article on the Internet.”

  “That’s why you do what you do, and I do what I do.”

  As she stood up, he handed her a package of black licorice. “Bet we’re the last two people in the city who like this stuff,” he said.

  “I doubt that.” If he thinks he’s gonna sweet talk me into bed. Forget it. But as he leaned over, his robe parted, and she got a good view of his chest. It looked totally touchable, firm, but not bodybuilder hard. Black chest hair in moderation made her fingertips tingle at the thought of running them up his pecs. With a huge effort, she ripped her gaze from his body and directed it to the cartons of food still on the floor.

  “Thanks,” she said, reluctant to be beholden to him, even for the retrieval of one item.

  “It’s the least I can do after Candy barged into you.”

  Bess nodded curtly and headed for her door. The minute it opened, the small pug came racing out. She headed straight for Whit, barking her head off. He laughed, but backed up. She’s a ferocious little beast.

  “I hate clichés, but aren’t you going to call off your dog?” he asked, his back to the wall.

  “Dumpling! Dumpling, come, baby girl.” Bess called. The pug closed her mouth and turned to look at her mistress. After casting a suspicious eye at Whit, the dog retreated, panting, and obeyed orders. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Really? Are you sure she knows that?” The crease in his forehead eased. He tucked his robe together and tightened the sash.

  “Your girlfriend needs a lesson in manners,” Bess said, picking up a bag in each hand. Dumpling watched Whit, but stayed beside Bess.

  “Oh, she’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Oh?” Bess raised her brow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “In fact, that was only our second date. A long one, perhaps, but only the second. I play the field.” Again, he shot her a look that made her feel bare. Instinctively, her arm covered her chest.

  “Good for you. Watch those STD’s, they can be nasty,” she said.

  “Speaking from experience?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  Heat rose through her cheeks as her temper flared. She dropped both bags, causing Dumpling to start barking again. “You’ve got a lotta nerve.”

  “You’re the one who brought it up. Not me. I’m a great believer in safe sex. Are you?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Bess gathered her belongings and whistled for Dumpling, who quieted down immediately and followed along.

  “Will I need to use hand sanitizer every time I pass your door?” He smirked.

  “Hilarious! Can’t understand why you didn’t go into stand-up comedy instead of the news. Let’s see…maybe because you’re not funny?” She stepped back into her apartment and slammed the door. His chuckle was loud enough for her to hear.

  How obnoxious. He can sleep with every woman in New York, but he’ll never get me. I hate womanizing men. She lugged the food into the kitchen with Dumpling trotting behind her. The dog curled up on her small, fluffy bed and was snoring before Bess got everything unpacked. She brewed a pot of coffee and sat down with a pad and pen.

  The buzzer broke into her thoughts. She picked up the intercom and okayed the visitor with Crash. Her assistant, Ned Lester, walked right in. She never kept the door locked, figuring, with such vigilant doormen, she’d never need to.

  “Where have you been? I’ve left ten messages. Did you need me to pick up anything on my way over?”

  “Got everything myself. I was in the hall. Damn new neighbor. His snotty girlfriend plowed right into me. Then, he came out to help pick things up.”

  Ned’s eyes lit up. “Was he cute?”

  “Aren’t you taken?”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Not for me. For you.”

  “I guess you could say he’s good looking enough. If you like that sort of thing.”

  “What sort of thing?” Ned perched on a bar stool at the counter, his pad ready, pen in hand, and his blue eyes directed at Bess.

  “I mean, black hair, gray eyes, good bod.”

  “Wow. Better than Serge?”

  “He was annoying.” Bess returned to the coffeemaker and poured a cup for Ned.

  “Now, you’re lying. I can always tell. You get a little twitch under your left eye. Only for a second. But it’s there.”

  “Okay. He’s gorgeous. But he’s a womanizer. Besides, I have Terry.”

  “Do you? Isn’t that still once a week and no overnights?”

  “So?” Bess sipped her brew.

  “Seems you two are kinda stuck.”

  “I like him. He’s a cop. Makes me feel safe. I’m happy with it the way it is.”

  “Are you?” Ned stared, but Bess avoided his eyes.

  “Let’s get to work. How to frame this? Best desserts for coffee and best for tea?”

  “That way, maybe we can get two shows out of this idea instead of only one,” he said, scribbling away.

  “Good
thinking. Hmm, what does go best with coffee? Anything chocolate.”

  “Oh, God. Chocolate. Here I go. And, by the way, you’re not fooling me. I’m letting you change the subject…for now.” Ned grinned.

  Short with brown hair and blue eyes, Ned was attractive, but out of Bess’s reach, as he was gay. He kept himself in top physical condition, dressed beautifully, and took good care of her. If I had a little brother, I’d want him to be exactly like Ned. Well, maybe not quite so nosy. He kept her secrets and shared her love of food. Ned was more family than her real family.

  Bucking to become her sous chef, Ned would have been the perfect choice, but then Bess hated the idea of breaking in a new assistant. While she was dying for him to be promoted, she dreaded it at the same time. She relied on his support, and he never questioned her judgment. They were the perfect team.

  Ned perused the one hundred cookbooks on her shelves, seeking the ones that specialized in desserts. Within half an hour, she was immersed in discussing and selecting recipes with him. The episode was taking shape, and she had forgotten about the devastatingly attractive Whit Bass and his parade of willing women.

  They made a shopping list. Ned went out to the store while Bess took a break. She strolled to the window with her mug. Dumpling stretched then padded over to join her. Her choices of possible desserts were numerous enough that she was certain there would be a few outstanding ones to suit the show.

  Her mind turned back to her new neighbor. Why am I thinking about him? He’s trouble for any single woman. I want to have kids someday. Can’t do that with a guy like Whitfield Bass. What about Terry? I don’t even have him twice a week. She chewed a nail then stopped, horrified.