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Her arms curled around his neck as his mouth moved over hers.
“We have to talk,” he said hoarsely. He was no longer able to pretend he could resist her. It was painfully apparent that he would succumb to Ariel’s sexual invitation … and soon.
But first there were things she needed to know.
She reached beneath his shirt and ran her palm over his chest. Ariel touching him made a mockery of all his resolutions and high ideals. He wanted her. He needed her. Whether he called it gratification or disaster, the result would be the same. Ariel … beneath him, calling his name as he made love to her.
When her fingernail scraped lightly over his nipple, he jerked.
Ariel laughed, the sexy, knowing laugh of a woman who acknowledged her power. “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.” She kissed him again, and her tongue mated with his. “But then again, sometimes actions speak louder than words.”
Dear Reader,
One of the great things about being an author is getting to make up stories in your head. If I hadn’t turned out to be a writer, I think I would have loved working in the movie industry. Like books, the cinema screen invites us to stop, put aside our busy lives and immerse ourselves in other times and places.
My actress heroine, Ariel, is privileged in many ways. But she is facing great trials ahead. Though she is plucky and independent, even a capable woman can use the support and comfort of a man who is strong, honorable and protective.
Jacob deals in reality. And falling in love with Ariel comes under the category of fantasy. But beneath a tropical moon, this intense, compassionate Wolff discovers that sometimes a man loses all control when the woman he wants is Impossible to Resist.
Don’t forget to visit www.WolffMountain.com for bonus content about all things Wolff.
See you on the mountain!
Janice Maynard
About the Author
JANICE MAYNARD came to writing early in life. When her short story The Princess and the Robbers won a red ribbon in her third-grade school arts fair, Janice was hooked. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary teacher to pursue writing full-time. Her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance. She has written for Kensington and NAL, and now is so very happy to also be part of the Mills & Boon family—a lifelong dream, by the way!
Janice and her husband live in beautiful east Tennessee in the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. She loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books.
Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website at www.janicemaynard.com or e-mail her at [email protected]. And of course, don’t forget Facebook (www.facebook.com/JaniceMaynardReaderPage). Find her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/JaniceMaynard and visit all the men of Wolff Mountain at www.wolffmountain.com.
Impossible
to Resist
Janice Maynard
To Judy Flohr—
Thanks for all you do to support authors, books and
your wide circle of friends! You are a special woman!
One
Jacob Wolff had seen more than his share of naked women. He knew the female body inside and out. After all, he was a doctor.
But when Ariel Dane set foot in his office, fully clothed, he reacted like a man, not a physician.
Jacob retreated behind his pewter-colored metal desk and motioned for her to sit. “Make yourself comfortable, Ms. Dane.”
She might as well have been deaf for all the notice she afforded his pleasantries. With quick, nervous steps, she approached the broad picture window and stared out at the forest, her hands clasped behind her back.
Jacob took the opportunity to study her. She was thin, too thin. But that was no doubt the influence of Hollywood. Ariel Dane was a star. And seeing her in the flesh for the first time, he understood why. She was exquisite. Ethereal.
Her pale blond hair often flowed across the pillow of a leading man. Today it was confined in a simple ponytail. The severe style lent emphasis to her finely-drawn features, and drew attention to the delicate curve of the nape of her neck.
Jacob shifted restlessly, leaning back in his chair. The silence didn’t bother him. She would speak when she was ready. What disturbed him was the way his sex stirred and his breathing quickened. He had not been with a woman in years. But that meant nothing. He’d learned to subdue his sexuality at will. Rarely did he allow his body to best him. Now, in the presence of a woman whose image had no doubt fueled a million male fantasies, he found that he was human after all.
Her silence outlasted his curiosity. “How did you know to contact me, Ms. Dane?”
She half turned, finally deigning to answer, her expression pensive. “You know Jeremy Vargas, don’t you? The actor?”
“Slightly. My new sister-in-law, Olivia, is a close friend of his.”
She nodded, returning her gaze to the lush jungle of hardwood trees, rhododendron and laurel. “He saw me at a party recently and told me I looked like sh—”
She stopped short. He saw her shoulders tense.
Turning to face him, she winced. “Sorry. Let’s just say that Jeremy was not particularly flattering in his assessment of my current attractiveness. He told me I should come to see you. Insisted on giving me your contact information.”
“There are doctors in Hollywood.”
She lifted her chin, her expression hunted. “Jeremy says that because of what your family has endured from the press over the years, you’re unfailingly discreet. Was he wrong? I’m well aware that a copy of my medical records would fetch a handy sum from the paparazzi. I have nowhere else to turn. No one else I can trust completely.”
“I don’t need your money, Ms. Dane. And my family and I have no great fondness for the gutter press. So yes, your secrets are safe with me.”
“Thank you.” A tiny, hiccupped sob escaped her throat. “You don’t know what that means to me.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. The pale-pink silk shirtdress she wore halted just above her knees and displayed a pair of slim, spectacular legs. The thin fabric outlined pert, though small, breasts. If she wore a bra, it was flimsy, because he could see the outline of her nipples.
His throat dried, and he cursed inwardly. Get a grip, Jacob.
“I have to tell you, Ms. Dane, that I don’t have much experience with eating disorders. But I could refer you to a private facility.”
Shock flashed across her face. “I must look worse than I thought.”
Her voice didn’t match her fragile appearance. It was low and husky and made a man think about sex. Which was, perhaps, part of the reason her career had skyrocketed. After a string of well-paid childhood gigs, she’d landed her first “adult”