Under the Covers by Rita Herron

if that obnoxious Hunter Stone lurked in the group.
    Keep calm. Don't act suspicious. And for God's sake, don't hyperventilate again.
    She braced herself for the onslaught of questions. In a few minutes she'd be home, away from the hoopla, and in a few weeks the publicity would die down and her life would return to normal. A sexy man would never get the best of her again. Of course, first she had to fend off the reporters.
    And keep her failed marriage a secret.
    * * *
    Hunter's investigative instincts roared to life. Abby clutched the table as if she might jump up and flee the scene any second.
    Why would she panic? She was an instant success, her book the talk of the town, her career on a roll. Why wouldn't she welcome publicity?
    "Just sign it generically," he told her when she winked at him again.
    Her fingers trembled as she scribbled her name; the smile she aimed at the camera looked forced.
    He grabbed his book, moved into the thick of the group, and watched her sweat.
    Suddenly all half dozen or so of the reporters fired questions at her at once. Abby's breath seemed to hitch in her throat as she quickly signed the last of the customers' books.
    Avoiding the camera, Hunter ducked into a nearby aisle, grabbed a book off the shelf, and stuck his face in it. He had to devise a plan to get her alone and get an exclusive.
    A lanky man in a suit flashed his press badge, indicating he worked for one of Atlanta's local magazines. "Where did you come up with the idea for your book?"
    "How do you research all your chapters?" another reporter asked.
    "You're a newlywed yourself, aren't you?"
    "Does your husband get involved in your research?"
    "What is your secret fantasy, Dr. Jensen?"
    "I..." She squirmed in her seat, dark eyes flitting toward the nearest exit. "I'm not here to discuss my personal life."
    A short, dark-haired woman jammed a microphone toward her. "But you have to give us something."
    "We're just doing our jobs," another whined.
    "And you are the news, Dr. Jensen."
    "All right, let me make a few comments." Composing herself, she folded her hands on the empty table. Hunter leaned against one of the displays and studied her in detail for the first time, deciding to hold off on his own questions until he observed her actions. She wasn't the self-assured, in-control woman who'd refused him so baldly when he'd phoned for an interview.
    This woman seemed vulnerable. Nervous.
    Almost like the little girl in the photo he'd found in her file.
    And despite the fact that he usually preferred blondes and redheads, he had to admit she was attractive. Definitely not the bitter, wrinkly, middle-aged woman he'd hoped she'd be.
    Wavy hair so dark it looked like midnight framed her heart-shaped face. She'd swept it off her shoulders into some fancy twist, but ringlets escaped and spiraled around her high cheekbones. He'd expected her pale skin to look sickly, but the porcelain white gave her an exotic look. Her lips were full and pouty, painted a delicious dark red that matched her suit. Long, slender hands curled around her book cover, reminding him of the chapters he'd read last night. And her voice rippled out, so deep and husky it made his body thrum with desire... the seductive whisper of a vamp. She'd probably perfected it.
    He shifted, irritated with himself again for succumbing to her female charm.
    "I wrote Under the Covers because I wanted to help relationships in distress. I've been counseling numerous couples for the past few years and have noticed similar patterns, which are common problem areas, lack of communication being one of the prime ones."
    "So you're teaching couples how to communicate?" the magazine reporter asked.
    Someone else snickered. "Yeah, between the sheets."
    Abby's full lips pursed slightly, but she seemed to realize her reaction and tried to temper it, dazzling the group with a radiant smile—the kind of sincere smile that probably hypnotized her patients into trusting her with their darkest,