Tempting the CEO

By Angela Claire

If lawyer Angie O'Hare needed another reason to hate New York City, this would be it. Locked out of her room and stranded in the hallway. Wearing only a towel. Lovely. But then, rescue arrives—in the form of the wickedly hot, funny guy in the penthouse next door. Angie is so relieved that she ignores her usual buzz-kill tendencies, and agrees to have a drink with Mr. Sexy Salvation...

But things don't stop at just a drink. Or even a hot make-out session.

Cue one night of hot, ultra-x-rated sexy time. No names. No personal information. And the next morning, Angie sneaks out, returning to her prim-and-proper life, every hair in place. But New York City isn't done with Angie yet. Because her meeting that morning is with CEO Jed Worth... whose bed she did everything but sleep in last night! And Jed isn't the sort of man to take "conflict of interest" as an answer...

Each book in the Sleeping with the Enemy series is a standalone, full-length story that can be enjoyed out of order.
Series Order:
Book #1 Tempting the CEO
Book #2 Tempting the Corporate Spy
Book #3 Tempting the New Boss

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Sep 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781633750852

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

If you love sexy romance, one-click these steamy Brazen releases…

Owned by Fate

Making Over the Billionaire

No More Mr. Nice Guy

One Night of Scandal

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Angela Claire. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit www.brazenbooks.com.

Edited by Marie Loggia-Kee

Cover design by Heather Howland

Cover art from Shutterstock

ISBN 978-1-63375-085-2

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition October 2014

To my wonderful sisters Colleen and Arlene, for helping me stay positive, and as always to Bernie, Alex and Ben, who I could go on about but won’t!

Chapter One

I was pretty sure the guy in the hotel suite next to mine hadn’t been upgraded. He belonged on this penthouse floor. The dark blue suit he wore was tailored, fitting his broad shoulders and long legs precisely, not a seam or pleat out of place. As for me, I’d checked in after an endless drafting session and benefited from a midnight-shift clerk who was eager to please me. Although I’m sure I looked like a wreck—my blonde hair was like straw after a day of pulling it out to stem my frustration at the arrogance of New York lawyers—the clerk was very friendly, and before I knew it I’d scored a lavish penthouse suite when my Midwestern law firm would only foot the bill for an economy double.

But the guy in the suite next to mine had to be paying for it with a suit like that. He turned in my direction, pulling his door shut, and I saw that money wasn’t the only thing he had going for him. The guy was gorgeous. Six feet three at least, with black hair. The only indication of the lateness of the hour was the slight shadow on his steely jaw. Otherwise, he looked as fresh as if he were stepping into a morning meeting.

Since I didn’t—naked and wrapped in a towel as I was—I ducked quickly back into the alcove with the ice machine. In my defense, I didn’t expect anybody to be around at this time of night in the two minutes it took to shoot down the hall for ice. I hoped he hadn’t seen me.

No such luck, though. I’d barely put the bucket under the chute when I looked up and found Gorgeous Guy standing right in front of me.

He smiled and my heart beat a little faster.

Whoa. He was even better looking when he smiled.

Sorry. I couldn’t see a girl in a towel dart out of the way as soon as I spotted her and not come to investigate.

Oh. Yeah, well, I took a chance nobody would be around. I guess I lost.

And I won. But I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’ve got to ask, though. Why the towel? Why didn’t you put on one of the robes in the closet?

My suite didn’t have one.

I’ll have to leave Housekeeping a nice tip to thank them for that.

I was getting some ice, I said stupidly, nodding my head toward the bucket I was filling up without looking away from the eye candy.

I think you’ve got enough.

My ice bucket floweth over. I yanked it away from the stream of cubes, losing a few on the carpet and kicking them under the machine.

They can bring you ice, you know, he pointed out.

I was so truly not supposed to be on this floor.

I didn’t want to wake anybody.

Again with the smile. I think you’ll find room service is twenty-four hours in this hotel, especially for this floor.

Of course. Yep.

Despite having a mother who could flirt as effortlessly as she could breathe, I had not inherited her knack for it. Consequently, nervous as I was, I didn’t try to crack a joke or make conversation. I just stood there staring at this hottie. Which was okay, I guess, since he was staring at me, the smile a little dimmed as his eyes dipped down to check me out.

I hadn’t gotten my figure from my rail-thin mother, either. She was a former model, and when I filled out in my teens, I couldn’t have been more relieved. Among other things, it saved me from having dear old Mom shove me out onto the runway, breasts not being conducive to Paris fashions. But these days, my curves were a little more trouble than they were worth, and usually I wore a suit jacket and sturdy bra to disguise them.

A towel wasn’t much of a disguise, and they strained against the white cotton in all their glory.

It was still kind of rude of him to look so blatantly. Sexy as hell, but rude.

The feminist in me wanted to tell him, Eyes up here, but I was in a towel and he was, well, human…and a guy. I guess I couldn’t exactly be surprised. Although what was it with guys and breasts anyway? They were like true north to a compass. Would I check out a guy’s package like that? I took a quick glance down.

Well, maybe, but that was beside the point. And his pants weren’t that tailored.

In any case, the feminist in me had been pounded down by hours of concentrating on merger