One Night Mistress, Book #5

• Workplace Romance
• Tough Alpha Male
• Secret Identity
• Billionaire Romance

She seduced the wrong man … or was he the right man?

Plain Jayne Myleston decides to seduce her office crush at a masked ball, only to discover she’s tumbled into bed with the wrong man. Even after the ball, she can't say no to her Mystery Lover or their ongoing masked love affair.

Nick Fontana wants Jayne more than any other woman he’s known. But he’s her boss and having her isn’t possible … until they come together at a masked ball. But as the weeks pass, he realizes it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out and when it does all hell will break loose.

What happens when the masks come off? Read One Night Mistress to find out!

One Night Mistress is a passionate, tender contemporary romance, guaranteed to make you a believer in happily-ever-after.

Note to Readers: One Night Mistress is Book #5 in The Sinful Secrets Series, a contemporary romance series by USA Today bestselling author and eleven-time RITA© (Romance Writers of America) finalist, Day Leclaire. This story features a hot, take-charge alpha hero and the perfect woman for him, and a sizzling romance between soul mates.

“I know it is cold,” he told her. “So I promise not to keep you for long. But I think… Yes, I was right.”

She leaned back against him and watched the harbor rotate into view as the platform slowly spun. “About what?”

“Wait for it.”

As though he’d given the heavens a signal, fat, fluffy snowflakes drifted from the sky, swirling downward in a merry dance. Jayne inhaled sharply, utterly captivated. “How beautiful,” she murmured.

“Ah, but that is not the most beautiful part.”

In the next instant the Statue of Liberty swung into view, majestic and brilliantly lit. For a brief moment Jayne couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. She simply leaned into Jonathan and absorbed his warmth as she allowed herself to thrill at the sight.

From somewhere in the distance she heard people shouting.

Ten. Jonathan’s arms tightened around her, pulling her closer still.

Nine. His hands shifted from her waist up beneath the cape she wore and along her arms.

Eight. At some point he’d removed his gloves and his fingers feathered across the curve of her shoulders to the sensitive hollow at the joining of her neck.

Seven. He turned her, ever so gently, until she faced him, his hands never leaving her shoulders.

Six. He cupped her face and tilted it upward.

Five. His fingertips painted the parts of her face bared by her mask, as though to brand each curve and angle into his memory.

Four. “Jayne,” he whispered. Not Cleopatra. But plain, simple Jayne. The word came out in a soft accent, but not a Spanish one. This time his accent was one of longing.

Three. For an endless moment, he stared down at her, his eyes dark and more serious than she could ever recall seeing them before.

Two. He leaned down, the slightest of smiles tugging his mouth to one side, a mouth more tempting than any she’d ever seen.

On the count of one, he kissed her, melding fantasy with reality.

She stood on a frigid balcony, surrounded by delicious male warmth while snowflakes wept from above, glistening like diamonds against the darkness of his costume and the cape he’d draped her in. Deep thunderous booms echoed all around them signaling the start of the New Year. Her eyes fluttered closed but she could still see the flashes from the fireworks even with her lids squeezed shut.

The spectacle going on around her retreated. Nothing mattered other than that kiss and those marvelous lips working on hers. And heaven help her, could he kiss. There was a power in the taking, a sureness in the way his mouth moved on hers. A tenderness when he probed inward. The most delicious flavor when their tongues touched and mated.

She could have stood there for hours, and suspected he could have, too, if the door behind them hadn’t swept open. The drunken Don Juan spilled through with his milkmaid.

Jonathan whirled her in a swift, sweeping circle that had them back inside without the interlopers even noticing them. To Jayne’s astonishment the overhead balls of roses were popping open, one after the other. Red and white petals filled the air, raining down on the celebrants, along with gold and silver confetti stars. The combination caught in her hair and her mask and on the lower half of her face. Jonathan was more fortunate than she. His hat kept most of the flowers and confetti out of his face.

He laughed when he caught sight of her and pulled her into his arms once again. He brushed a rose petal from her cheek. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look?”

“What can I say? Roses and confetti must agree with me.” This time she felt perfectly comfortable twining her arms around his neck. “Or maybe it’s your kisses.”

His laughter faded, replaced with something hard and determined. A hungry tension that caused the muscles of his face to tauten. “Spend the night with me.”

“Is that a question or a demand?”

He gave it to her straight. “A demand.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I will carry you off and have my wicked way with you.”

She stretched upward and snatched a swift kiss. “You don’t leave me any other choice, except…”

“Except?”

She offered him a smile filled with mystery and seduction. “Why, surrender, of course.”