The Gift

By Eva Cassel

Even the most torrid couples have to keep the passion burning – so Mia is determined to give her husband, Evan, a birthday present that will blow his mind. And she's found just the thing: an erotic massage...for both of them.

But while a touch of jealousy has always been a great aphrodisiac for Mia and Evan, will this gift go too far?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460827154

Eva Cassel

Eva Cassel discovered romance novels on her thirteenth birthday, when a friend cluelessly grabbed and gifted a particularly torrid example off her mother's bookshelf. When she encountered the first love scene Eva's eyes bugged out and an addiction was born. Her favourites were always the novels thick with psychological tension, smouldering eye contact and page-turning power dynamics. Hundreds of pirates (and years of therapy) later, she just couldn't contain herself any longer and began feverishly writing her own. Otherwise, she's a graduate student in English, living on the lush west coast of Canada, designing clothing for fun, and trying to get Zen any way she can.

Book preview

Chapter One

From a safe distance I watch him wind his way through the party guests, assembled in cliques throughout the room. It’s crowded. His maneuvering his way to the opposite end of the spacious room begins to resemble a subtle tango, as bodies wordlessly negotiate space.

He looks amazing in his jet-black suit, the expert tailoring highlighting his tall, fit body. I notice he’s taken off the tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his white shirt. His short, light brown hair is starting to misbehave, strands coming out of their gelled confinement. I can tell he’s just splashed some water on his face in the bathroom to revive himself, as he tends to do halfway into a formal party like this. I know he hates every second of this, even as he greets his subordinates with an easy, wide grin.

I’ve found the most tucked-away spot in the room, propped against the fireplace mantel, and set up camp so that I can just watch him all night long. I can’t hear a word of what he’s just said, but his companions burst out laughing, so I know he just cracked a joke that went over well. Evan fakes this whole schmoozing thing like a pro. I can’t help smiling as I watch his new secretary cock her head to the side and strike a flirtatious pose, trying to engage him in conversation. I watch them exchange a sentence or two. She’s working really hard to keep his attention, giggling, bobbing up and down, her hand periodically fluttering to her cleavage as she talks. I can see him starting to make his retreat. She clearly wants him to stay, even daring to put her hand on his forearm, the look in her eyes desperate. The little tramp, I think, then forgive her—I’d be hitting on him, too, if it wasn’t forbidden.

His eyes dart in my direction. I take a sip of my champagne, arching one eyebrow provocatively. His smile widens. He heads toward me. I never take my eyes off his. Put into slow motion, he’d look like a beautiful, sleek, black jungle cat. He has this knack for owning a room like no man I’ve met; everyone wants to be next to him, basking in his aura. He was destined to be the CEO of the company from the moment he strode through their doors and sold himself into a job he had no business even thinking about. Over the past ten years I’ve watched him conduct all aspects of his life with the same charming, at times arrogant, unshakable confidence…and the man oozes so much sexuality I’m going cross-eyed watching him stride toward me. Why had I agreed to stay away from him again?!

His sultry half smile spreads into a huge grin by the time he reaches me.

Mrs. Landcaster. He holds out his hand. I slide my hand delicately, formally, into his. He squeezes it, staring into my eyes. Only Evan can make a handshake seem like a dangerous transgression.

Mr. Landcaster, I smile, looking up at my husband of ten years flirtatiously.

You look lovely this evening.

Why, thank you.

What are the chances you’d be willing to join me in the, uh, powder room for a tryst?

I feign shock at this impertinence. Why, Mr. Landcaster! You know that would be against the rules!

Evan clears his throat, trying to look sheepish. I apologize. It won’t happen again. He kisses my hand stiffly and walks away, the sensual twinkle in his eyes the only thing