df756f-85e4-539c-be67-86f8c6ef56b8">
New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods sweeps readers away with a reader-favorite tale of finding strength—and love—in unexpected places.
Audrey Nelson had heard the words “We knew we could count on you” too many times. She was known as a good sport, but to her that meant she was just a wimp! Canceling her vacation to cover a hot-air balloon festival was the absolute last time she would give in.
But Blake Marshall’s high-handed manner didn’t give her a chance to say no. He literally swept her off her feet before she could protest, and his charm made dangerous inroads into her outrage. Audrey knew Blake understood her need for control and self-respect. Could he get her to say yes to the most important question of all?
“Everything working okay now?”
Everything was tingling, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “I’m not sure.”
“Come here and let me check.”
Audrey groaned at the seductive gleam in his eyes. “Don’t you ever think about anything else?”
Blake considered the question carefully. “Nope. Not since you turned up. Before that, my mind was entirely on this balloon race.”
“You have a fascinating array of seduction techniques, Mr. Marshall. Perhaps we should try marketing them to one of the men’s magazines. 101 Ways to Get a Woman into Your Arms.”
“I’d rather think of some way to keep her there. My technique must need work. You keep running away.”
“It should give you no end of satisfaction to know that as long as we’re up here, I won’t get far.”
“Eventually, though, we’ll have to land,” he said, his expression suddenly sobering. “What happens then, Audrey?”
SHERRYL WOODS has written more than seventy-five romances and mysteries in the past twenty years. She also operates her own bookstore, Potomac Sunrise, in Colonial Beach, Virginia, where readers from around the country stop by to discuss her favorite topic—books. If you can’t visit Sherryl at her store, then be sure to drop her a note at P.O. Box 490326, Key Biscayne, FL 33149 or check out her Web site at www.sherrylwoods.com.
Can’t Say No
Sherryl Woods
Contents
“No.”
There was a disgusting catch in Audrey’s voice. She scowled at herself in the mirror. One simple, common, everyday word and she couldn’t get it out with any authority. Ridiculous. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin defiantly and tried again.
“No!”
This time the word rang out in the tiny motel room. It was firm, emphatic, convincing. Obviously it was not the tone she had used with her boss yesterday, or she wouldn’t have been spending the start of her vacation on an assignment that held all the appeal of mud wrestling.
“Audrey, I’ve got a little problem,” Harvey had said on Thursday morning. He’d said it early, before her first cup of coffee, when he knew her resistance was at its lowest.
She had promptly clamped her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear it. When you have a little problem, it means I have an even bigger one. I’m leaving on vacation in precisely thirty-two hours—” she’d glanced at her watch “—and seventeen minutes. Whatever problems you’re having will have to wait until I get back.”
“But this won’t wait and besides, you’re going to love it,” Harvey insisted, waving his unlit pipe in her direction and beaming at her. He wore a deceptively jovial look that usually spelled doom. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Harvey Fielding wasn’t known as one of the best public relations men in the country for nothing. He’d joined the Blake Marshall Vineyards when they’d been little more than a field of grapes in the Napa Valley. Now it was one of the fastest-growing California wine companies, thanks to Blake Marshall’s genius for business and Harvey’s ingenious instincts for promoting it. He was a master at what Newsweek had described as “The Hyping of Napa Valley.” He’d been one of the first to offer tours of the winery, then gone on to add other enticements for visitors, including a moonlit champagne-and-classical-music concert series that had drawn thousands during the summer months.
Audrey had worked for the company for more than two years. She knew all about Harvey’s “once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.” The last one had plunked her in a rowboat in the middle of a freezing stream for eight solid hours with a clipboard in her shaking hands and water splashing all over her new sneakers, while a camera crew tried to shoot a thirty-second commercial that Harvey had assured her would be a snap. Not even the presence of one of television’s steamiest, most sensual actors had warmed her blood. At least they’d given him hip boots, a sexy brunette actress and a magnum of the finest champagne to hold on to. They hadn’t even offered her a sweater. She still couldn’t view the ad on television without getting goose bumps.
Harvey was not the steamroller sort of boss. He never made demands. Quite the contrary, he was subtle and persuasive. He knew exactly the right buttons to push—at least with her.
Yesterday