Dominic sighed and let his head drop against the pillow.
He was desperate to stop Caroline from moving away. A quick jerk of her wrist and she’d be stretched out flat against his chest. Another twist and he’d have her on her back. A button undone and a lowered zipper and he’d be pushing inside her warmth.
With everything he’d learned about her in the last month he could woo her. Seduce her. Prove to her that their connection was special and could survive anything.
He could win back her love.
If not her trust.
Dear Reader,
This book was inspired by an advertisement I read in one of those fancy magazines you find on an airplane. You know the kind—they sell foot massagers and battery-operated wine openers. This particular ad was for an exclusive matchmaking service that I seriously considered using. When I called the number listed I was told that the initial fee was $10,000. I figured I would try to find Mr. Right for free first.
Well, my search is still on, but this story is for everyone who has had success on the Internet or through dating services. If you believe the commercials on television, it really can work. Just as it did for my hero and heroine, Dominic and Caroline…after a few bumps in the road, that is.
I love to hear from readers. Come visit me at my Web site, www.stephaniedoyle.net.
Happy reading!
Stephanie Doyle
Suspect Lover
Stephanie Doyle
STEPHANIE DOYLE
a dedicated romance reader, began writing her own romantic stories, some funny, some adventurous, but all delivering the quintessential happy ending, at age fifteen. At eighteen she submitted her first story to Harlequin Books and by twenty-six she was published. Now in her thirties, she struggles between the demands of her “day” job, her writing and trying to find a little romance of her own. She lives in South Jersey with her two cats, Alexandria Hamilton and Theodora Roosevelt. She wants to get a dog, but the cats have outvoted her.
To Eric and Brian.
Here’s another book for you. Love, the Book Lady
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Chapter 1
“We’re here, ma’am.”
Caroline tore her gaze away from the structure on the hill. Realizing that the limo had stopped, she smiled politely at the driver in the rearview mirror.
“Different, isn’t it?” he said pointing with his chin in the direction of the architectural nightmare that was her destination. The stone slab building jutted out from the cliff like a bad sandcastle that had been pounded by too many waves.
It could be her next home. Possibly. Maybe. Wow. It was ugly.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admitted.
The driver chuckled and shifted his weight to exit the car. A second later, her door was opened and a helpful hand waited for her.
“Can’t say it’s the boss’s style, either,” he noted. “He’s more the downtown condo type if you know what I mean. But he likes his privacy.”
Caroline imagined he must. She looked around and saw only the ocean to her right and to the left the stone structure precariously perched on the cliff.
“What am I doing here?” she mumbled to herself as she struggled against the very logical urge to get back in the car, return to the airport and fly home.
Dear Ms. Somerville,
I received your profile from the service we’ve both chosen to utilize. I believe we might be compatible.
I understand you are a writer. That sounds like a very interesting profession. What would you like to know about me?
Sincerely,
Dominic Santos
“Excuse me, ma’am did you say something?”
Caroline snapped back to attention to find the driver dripping in luggage. She offered to take one of the bags but he smiled and headed for the house. She followed him to what she supposed was the front door. Only it didn’t look like any door she’d ever seen as the stone slab portal was skewed to the right. The driver rang the doorbell.
She wasn’t ready to do this. She wasn’t ready to meet this man right here, right now. Everything she’d hoped for, dreamed of and wanted was potentially beyond that door. Her breath caught in her chest. She might faint.
At his feet.
That would make a heck of a first impression.
The door opened and a young woman with short spiky hair wearing a top that didn’t quite cover her stomach and a skirt that didn’t quite cover her thighs greeted them both. “Hi! You must be Caroline. Mr. S. told me to let you in.”
A large black dog muscled past the girl to greet the new guests. Caroline instantly offered her hand for the dog to sniff, which it did before licking it affectionately.
“Oh, sorry,” the girl apologized. “Don’t mind her. She doesn’t bite or anything. Her name is…”
“Munch,” Caroline finished. “Her name is Munch.”
Dear Mr. Santos,
I received your profile. It was quite detailed. But I imagine that’s part of the sizeable fee we’re paying. This isn’t like any other matchmaking service, is it? Annual gross income, detailed personality profiles, education history. One might think we were applying for a job with the CIA rather than just looking for someone. You asked what I wanted to know about you. So many things, I suppose. What you like. What you don’t like. Your hobbies, your passions. Why you chose to go this route to find a wife.
As for me, you were right in saying I’m a writer, but I have to confess it’s not as exciting as most people believe. I spend a lot of time on my own. I had a cat, but he recently passed away. I’m thinking of getting a kitten. They are great company.
Regards,
Caroline
“Come on in. Mr. S. said to show you around the place.”
“He’s not here?” Caroline tried