BVC Announces About Last Night by Michele Dunaway
About Last Night
by Michele Dunaway
Pregnant by her billionaire boss—can a near-death accident reveal true love
Billionaire playboy Shane Jacobsen can’t remember the night he spent with his personal assistant, but Lindy can, especially since it’s left her pregnant. Once he figures out what happened, they’re married for convenience. Only trouble? Shane’s closed his heart. But when a devastating accident threatens to tear them apart, Shane must confront his fear of love before he loses Lindy forever.
The Jacobsens, Book 4
REVIEW
Author Michele Dunaway deftly captures the challenges of transformation and love in ABOUT LAST NIGHT… Lindy’s determination to leave her job and create a life apart from Shane demonstrates the tenacity and independence that make Dunaway’s heroines such a delight. However, her hero departs radically from the norm. Rather than a mature, wise man with his life together, Shane is a spoiled, flightily man who must set priorities and radically change his ways if he wants to win Lindy and their child. Although Shane has a lot of growing up to do, however, he has a heart of gold that will see him through the greatest challenges of his life. A delightfully fresh tale with unexpected twists, ABOUT LAST NIGHT comes very highly recommended.
– Amazon
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Michele Dunaway is a best selling author of contemporary romance that’s hometown sweet with a hint of spice.
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Prologue
Jacobsen Enterprises External E-mail
From: Joe Jacobsen, CEO, jjacobsen@ jacobsen.com
To: Shane Jacobsen, sjacobsen@hmail.com
CC: Blake Jacobsen, bjacobsen@jacobsenministries.com
Date: Friday, April 13
Subject: Job
Shane,
Happy birthday, Grandson!
Now that you are twenty-five, I’m going to ask you once again to join the family company. I’ve attached a job description that I hope will finally tempt you. I’ll stop by your place Saturday to discuss it with you.
P.S. Your grandmother and I expect to see you at the estate this Sunday for Easter dinner. Be there at five and feel free to bring that lovely assistant of yours, Lindy. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to contact me.
J.J.
Chapter One
It had been the best, and worst, sex of her life. As Lindy Brinks sat up in bed, she wondered how she could have done it.
Wait.
She knew how. If she hadn’t learned that poignant lesson the first time, the man still sleeping beside her had made the second and third lovemaking experiences even more satisfying and more invigorating. His chiseled body had been hard and muscular under her fingers, smooth to her touch, and damn if she hadn’t been swept away all night long.
No, the real question wasn’t what she’d done or how she’d done it, but rather why. For in making love with Shane Jacobsen, Lindy had just made the worst mistake of her twenty-eight-year-old life.
Shane Jacobsen was infuriating. Mind-blowing. Condescending. Phenomenal. A womanizer.
Her boss.
And she’d made love to him with her brown eyes wide open, her five-foot-seven body more than willing. Oh yes, definitely more than willing.
As Lindy looked around Shane’s bedroom, she knew she had no one to blame but herself. No one had forced down her throat the strawberry daiquiris she’d drunk last night during Shane’s twenty-fifth birthday celebration-slash-pool party. After Shane handed her the first red slushy concoction, Lindy had made the subsequent trips to the bar all by herself. She really had no excuse for her wanton behavior.
Grimacing, Lindy climbed out of bed, careful not to wake him. She tripped over something soft, and as she caught herself against the bed, she saw Shane’s comforter beneath her feet That had been tossed aside early in the evening. Lindy cringed as she stepped over it. Shane Jacobsen was a playboy to the nth degree, so why had she let herself join his long line of female conquests? Being Shane’s personal assistant, she knew every single detail of what he was all about.
Fool! Fool! Fool!
Mentally cursing herself, Lindy slipped into her undergarments and touched her hair. The back of her head felt like a rat’s nest, and she tugged, desperately trying to use her fingers to straighten the blond strands snarled by the pleasures of the night before. The morning-after movement sent a sharp, searing pain between her eyes, reminding Lindy again exactly how much alcohol and how little sleep she’d had. Fixing her hair without a brush was hopeless.
A small groan escaped Shane, and distracted by the sound, Lindy took a moment to study the man sleeping on the rumpled sheets. For three years she’d worked for him, watching women practically throw themselves at him, including the buxom redhead who had been nibbling on his ear when Lindy had arrived at last night’s party. And despite herself and her desire to do otherwise, she couldn’t blame those women for falling for Shane. There was no denying that he was beautiful.
His straight, naturally surfer-blond hair fell forward into his face, and Lindy resisted the urge to sweep it back from his high cheekbones and chiseled nose. No, last night she’d already had her hands in those strands way too much. She’d committed enough mistakes for one evening, and she certainly didn’t need to start over now that the sun was up.
But wasn’t that one of life’s little ironies? She hadn’t planned on staying at his party, especially after she’d realized that Shane, who never drank, had had several of the daiquiris himself.
Lindy remembered cringing, knowing that Shane had been on some pretty impressive painkillers after wrenching his knee during a basketball game the Wednesday night before. No wonder he’d been having such a good time. The label, the one he’d obviously ignored, had said not to mix the medicine with alcohol.
But that was typical Shane. He thought he was invincible. And being his personal assistant, aka keeper, she’d stayed, especially after he’d detached himself from the redhead, come over to her side and shouted, “Everyone, this is Lindy, the love of my life. Lindy, everyone.”
It had been like something from a classic teenage-angst movie. “Hey, Lindy,” various faceless people had shouted, and then Shane had pressed a frozen strawberry daiquiri into her hand.
“Come on, Lindy. Let’s have fun,” he’d said, and then he’d swept her along, never quite allowing her to leave his side. So when he’d turned to her later that night, telling her that he needed a birthday kiss, she’d given him just one.
But then his seeking lips had demanded another, and then another.
And Lindy, freed by the alcohol she usually avoided like the plague, had let him lead her right down the path of temptation and eternal destruction. And kissing him—no, she didn’t need to think about how wonderful that had been or how good his lips had felt.
She watched Shane nestle deeper into the fluffy down pillow. Thankfully his eyes were closed. Like all his siblings and cousins, Shane had inherited the Jacobsen blue eyes—light blue with an outer darker rim. The promise of wickedness and pleasures evident in his gorgeous eyes had been her absolute undoing last night.
Lindy turned away and started searching for the rest of her clothes. Embarrassment stole over her as she discovered various pieces, including her jeans, in the living room.
Finally dressed, she stood in the doorway to Shane’s bedroom and allowed herself one last look. The white sheet had slipped to his waist, revealing the well-muscled chest she had palmed with wild abandon. Lindy resisted the urge to cover his nakedness with the sheet. Best she never get that close to him again.
She slipped on her flats and walked stealthily to the pool-house door. Moving out was something his grandfather had been hounding him about of late. But why should Shane move when he commandeered, rent-free, the entire two-thousand-square-foot pool house that sat on his father’s estate?
Besides, it wasn’t as if Shane ever saw his world-famous parents. This month they were somewhere in Australia doing charity work and evangelical revivals. With a global ministry that filled stadiums, Blake and Sara Jacobsen were usually quite embarrassed about their wayward, playboy son.
That was when they remembered him at all, which was why their son had thrown the impromptu party. Lindy sighed as she reached for the door handle. She couldn’t blame her mistake on Blake and Sara’s forgetfulness. Even if Shane had been raised mainly by nannies, and even if he stayed close to home just to be a thorn in his parents’ sides, sleeping with him was no one’s fault but her own.
As Lindy turned the doorknob, she took one last look at the living area. Shane’s shorts lay near the coffee table and empty beer bottles were everywhere. Had Shane had beer, too? Even though he had the reputation of a playboy, in her three years of working for him, Lindy had never seen him liquored up like he’d been last night. She shook her head to clear it, wincing as the pain hit her forehead again.
The writing was on the wall. Fool, she cursed again as she pulled the door shut behind her. Time to find another job.