Luxury Model Wife by Adele Downs Page B

to release her. But the handsome face hovering over hers drew her in, and if she was honest with herself, she’d admit that Steve had magnetism. He was a successful businessman, a distinguished veteran, and she’d been attracted to him since their first meeting.
    Since her panties had dampened with his cock pressed against her sex, she might as well stop kidding herself. Though she’d tried to ignore their chemistry, she…liked him. Wanted him.
    Steve lowered one hand to her waist and slid his palm over the swell of her hip. His fingers moved across the back of her skirt to free the delicate weave. She felt his pulse quicken and heard his intake of breath as his hand cupped her bottom. He looked down at her when she looked up and their eyes met and held. His pupils dilated and the blue of his irises grew bright as he stared down at her with undisguised lust.
    She honestly didn’t mean to, but she touched her tongue to her bottom lip.
    Steve moaned low in his throat. “We need to talk,” he growled before lowering his mouth to hers.
    Their lips touched for a moment before he eased in for more, his tongue rimming her lips, asking for entrance. She answered with a sigh, all the opening he needed as he deepened their connection. His mouth felt warm and full and offered the promise of endless sensuous nights. Yearning zinged through her with a physical ache like nothing she’d ever experienced. Heat rolled like fire through her until the sensations made her dizzy, as if the floor had fallen from beneath her feet. Her senses were filled with only him and she wanted more. She barely resisted clinging to his neck as he pulled back.
    How did one describe this reckless, crazy, weak-in-the-knees feeling?
    The bell on the front door jangled, and they looked up and flinched in unison. An older woman dressed in a pale blue pantsuit and white sneakers entered the store. Her gray hair seemed lacquered into place and she wore brightly colored makeup. An oversized duck-yellow handbag hung from her arm.
    “Hello,” Steve said, sheepish. He finished untangling Victoria’s skirt and they took sidesteps apart. She ran her hands over her hair and smoothed the front of her mussed blouse.
    The customer frowned and shook her head in disapproval. “I’m here about the Lydia Van Orr collection of rare dolls listed on your website. I expected to find a spectacular display of historical relevance when I walked through your door—not people fornicating on the premises.”
    Victoria opened her mouth to protest, the heat in her body evaporating under the woman’s scrutiny, but the customer lifted her hand like a traffic cop.
    “Don’t bother,” she said with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Just point me in the direction of the dolls.”

Chapter Five
    Victoria introduced herself by her first name only and offered her assistance to the eccentric older woman.
    “I’m Edwina March.” She walked to the enormous glass curio housing much of Lydia’s famed doll collection, and gazed inside. “May I take a look?”
    Victoria recognized the woman’s name. Edwina March was well known in the community for her extravagant tastes and charitable contributions. She and Victoria had never met, thank goodness, or word about the Van Orr widow kissing Steve Carlson might have already made the midday news.
    “Dolls are my personal guilty pleasure,” Edwina said. “I have quite a collection, but nothing compared to Lydia Van Orr’s spectacular array, rest her soul. I’ve only seen her dolls in magazines.”
    “They are impressive,” Victoria agreed, though she knew little about their history. She retrieved the keys for the showcase and unlocked the doors. Though she was curious about the woman’s hobby, she held her tongue. The collecting habits of others were none of her business.
    As if sensing her curiosity, the hint of a smile curved Edwina’s lips. “I don’t ‘play’ with the dolls I collect, dear. I’m not demented. For the serious