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Surrender To Me
Donna Hill
No woman has ever caught him. . . until nowRafe Lawson is driven by two things: His music and living a life away from the influence of his powerful senator father. The woman he meets at a high-profile family celebration won’t change his playboy ways. Still, Rafe is intrigued with the stunning Secret Service agent who never mixes business and pleasure. He has no choice but to jet to DC and use his legendary Lawson power of seduction to win over Avery Richards.The first female in her family to rise up the ranks of high-level government security, Avery is comfortable flying halfway across the world at a moment’s notice. But her desire for the sax-playing heir to a political dynasty creates more tension than being on presidential detail. Their fathers are enemies who share a long, bitter history, but when Avery falls for Rafe her loyalty to her family is tested and Rafe's contentious feud with his father could cost them everything. They must now decide what's most important–the life they've always lived or the one they can possibly make together.
No woman has ever caught him...until now
Rafe Lawson is driven by two things: his music and living a life away from the influence of his powerful senator father. The woman he meets at a high-profile family celebration won’t change his playboy ways. Still, Rafe is intrigued by the stunning Secret Service agent who never mixes business and pleasure. He has no choice but to jet to DC and use his legendary Lawson power of seduction to win over Avery Richards.
The first female in her family to rise up the ranks of high-level government security, Avery is comfortable flying halfway across the world at a moment’s notice. But her desire for the sax-playing heir to a political dynasty creates more tension than being on presidential detail. Their fathers are enemies who share a long, bitter history. When Avery falls for Rafe, her loyalty to her family is tested and Rafe’s contentious feud with his father could cost them everything. They must now decide what’s most important—the life they’ve always lived or the one they can possibly make together.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Fine.” She smiled.
“Going in?” he asked with what sounded like amusement in his voice.
“Of course.” She took her purse from the passenger seat, extracted the key from the ignition and accepted his hand.
When she was drawn to her feet, mere inches separated them. Her gaze landed on his collarbone and she realized how tall he actually was and how his lean frame belied the power beneath.
Avery swallowed and stepped around him. Her heart banged mercilessly as she walked to her front door with Rafe a half step behind.
She turned. “Thanks so much for inviting me tonight. I had a great time.”
His eyes picked up the light from the moon and seemed to sparkle. He grinned, leaned down and placed a featherlight kiss on her forehead. “Good night. Rest well. I hope you don’t mind if I call on you again.”
“You’re going to fly all the way from Louisiana to DC just to see me?”
“My family has a place in Arlington, Virginia. When I have good reason, I stay there.” He leveled his gaze on her. “Do I have good reason?”
“You might,” she managed to say.
Dear Reader,
Throughout the Lawson-family series, Rafe Lawson has been that elusive, dangerous, sexy shadow that readers were dying to discover more about. Surrender to Me is his story.
To be honest, I was terrified to finally write about Rafe. The stakes seemed so high. But I put on my big-girl pants and dug in. The shroud of mystery around the man was slowly pulled back, and I know that the revelations will surprise as well as endear him even further in your hearts.
Rafe is complicated, a confirmed bachelor with looks, money and charisma sprinkled with a heavy dose of Southern gentleman, and it takes an extraordinary woman like Avery Richards to make him realize that surrendering is not a weakness. Creating Avery, I knew that she needed to be really different. So she is a Secret Service agent skilled at looking for anything out of place. Avery is fearless and focused even as she has her own internal enemies to deal with. I hope that you will laugh, cry, scream and root for Rafe and Avery. I know that I did!
I love to hear from readers. You can always find me on Facebook; please join my fan club at Facebook.com/donnahillfans (https://www.facebook.com/donnahillfans) for updates on new projects and sneak peeks at upcoming works. Also, follow me on Twitter, @donnahill (https://twitter.com/donnahill).
As always, thank you all for twenty-five years of support!
Until next time,
Donna
Surrender to Me
Donna Hill
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
DONNA HILL published her first novel in 1990. She now has more than eighty titles in print. Three of her novels have been adapted for television. She has received numerous awards and recognition for her wide body of work. In her other life, Donna is an assistant professor of English at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn, New York, and an adjunct professor at Baruch College and Essex County College. She has an MFA in creative writing from Goddard College. Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her website at www.donnahill.com (http://www.donnahill.com/).
This novel is lovingly dedicated to my tireless editor,
Glenda Howard, who continues to champion my work.
Contents
Cover (#u52510503-dc8e-58a2-b781-cfe0f4031234)
Back Cover Text (#u19c1feb9-979b-55ba-ae8a-de8d3bfb3d06)
Introduction (#uc77b2da3-9ce7-5114-b05a-cac91adb1995)
Dear Reader (#uda0e5a06-1f29-509f-a205-c8491fc07df3)
Title Page (#u1b19dec5-9acb-5c05-baa7-9d9592db15f4)
About the Author (#u27e205f4-25b9-5ffb-b2c7-3ba83812429f)
Dedication (#ubf254836-a8fd-5ae1-b39b-78d5c45440d8)
Chapter 1 (#u8c3e82cc-7030-5e65-95b1-ebacad4f893d)
Chapter 2 (#uaf7f1f3f-f7d1-5b42-a2bf-7c15669882f3)
Chapter 3 (#u5ed3f556-8677-5437-9ceb-9ec0a98ac52c)
Chapter 4 (#u44087e1a-e3f8-5248-8edd-140a541e7374)
Chapter 5 (#ub117ae1d-bb87-5237-a8bd-c8424403a97b)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1
A warm leg brushed against his. Rafe Lawson glanced over his shoulder through dark eyes still lazy with sleep. He blinked slowly in the dim light of early morning, bringing the body next to him into focus. The night before began to come back to him in brief snapshots. His grandfather Clive’s birthday party. Bourbon. Music. Beautiful women.
He gently lifted the pale blue sheet that covered her body and peeked beneath. Hmm. Very nice. But for the life of him he couldn’t remember her name. And she definitely was not the woman he’d dreamed about all night—the woman he’d met at the party.
They’d only had a few moments to talk. She was part of the Secret Service detail that was assigned to the vice president, who’d made a surprise visit for his old friend’s birthday. Avery! That was her name. The woman from last night.
The unnamed woman in his bed moaned softly and he felt her lush body stretch against him. He eased out of bed and strode to the adjoining bathroom.
Rafe leaned on the sink and assessed his reflection in the mirror. The residue from his night of partying was barely evident beyond the five-o’clock shadow that outlined his jaw.
At thirty-six, his body still bounced back from the wear and tear he subjected it to; whether tearing up the highways on his motorcycle, hours in the gym or nights of indulgence in alcohol and women. He knew, however, that his often wild lifestyle couldn’t be maintained forever. He lived for the adrenaline rush of living on the edge, on his own terms, even to the dismay of family and friends. He did it as much to amuse himself as to piss off his powerful father.
He backed away from the all-knowing mirror and turned on the shower full-blast in the hope that his head would clear about the events that led to the woman in his bed.
By the time he turned off the taps he remembered—and it wasn’t good. The lovely lady was Shante Thornton, who worked for his sister Dominique. He muttered a curse while he knotted a towel around his waist. Back in front of the mirror he wiped the fogged glass with a cloth. His face appeared haloed by the mist. “You’re an idiot,” he grumbled.
When Rafe returned, Shante was sitting on the side of the bed with the sheet pulled up around her. She glanced quickly at him, turned away and clutched the sheet in her fist, but not before he registered the look of uncertainty and maybe embarrassment in her eyes. Without makeup and the fancy gown that was now tossed on an armchair, he could see how young she was. Not underage jail potential, but younger than the women he was accustomed to dealing with. There was a vulnerability that engulfed her like the scent of great sex that still lingered in the room.
He may be a womanizer in the eyes of some, but the truth was he loved women, adored them. He cherished the bodies of women, the soft curves of their shoulders and hips, the sexy spot behind the ear right down to the lobe, and the allure of the collarbone and the lovely space where he could dip his tongue and feel the pulse, and the sensual pull of a woman’s breasts when he held them in his palms was always exciting. Women’s bodies fascinated him and he made it his duty to explore, awaken and satisfy. He treasured their minds equally, and there was nothing more singularly sexy than an intelligent woman. But in every instance he treated them all with equal doses of charm and respect—a mantra that he lived by. Unfortunately, it had gotten him into more trouble than he needed on occasion.
“Mornin’, sugah,” he said while he crossed the room. He sat beside her and felt her tense. “Sleep okay?”
She barely nodded her head. Rafe smiled and that seemed to break the ice.
“I haven’t slept that good in ages.”
“It’s the sheets,” he teased.
Shante laughed softly.
“There’re fresh towels in the bathroom.” He stood. “I’ll fix us some breakfast. Bacon and eggs cool?”
“Sounds great.”
“Coffee? Tea? Juice?”
“Coffee,” she asked more than stated.
“Got it.” He left and as he reached the door he heard her get up from the bed and scurry into the bathroom. Modesty was actually an admirable trait.
* * *
He deftly threw together his morning-after omelet special of cheddar and sharp cheeses, green and red peppers and diced bits of ham mixed with a dash of milk to keep the eggs light and fluffy; a trick he’d learned from his mom. He hummed while he worked and in between every other note he thought about or saw an image of Avery. Rarely did one woman leave that kind of impression on him. He was used to easily seducing the woman that he wanted; a full-on Lawson press. Not this time. He frowned as he replayed their brief encounter.
He’d noticed her the moment she walked in and it was clear, even in an eye-popping black gown, that her presence was more than an invited guest. He could tell by the way her gaze covertly scanned the room, noted the exits and followed at a discreet distance from the vice president that she was part of his security detail—Secret Service. He had an image of a .22 strapped to her inner thigh.
Unlike many highbrow gatherings of politicos and the like that were too reserved for his tastes, a Lawson party was the real deal full of loud laughter, louder conversations and the music to go with it. So of course he had to get particularly close to talk to her.
He gave her time to assess the layout before he approached. He came alongside her. “Can I get you anything?”
She turned cinnamon-brown eyes on him, fanned by long curved lashes. Her smile was practiced, distant, but Rafe didn’t miss the rapid beat of her pulse in the dip of her throat that belied her cool exterior. Her sleek right brow rose in question as she took him in with one long glance.
“Clearly you’re not one of the waitstaff,” she said with a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Rafe Lawson.”
Her eyes widened for a split second. “Oh, the scandalous one.”
He dramatically pressed his hand to his chest. “Guilty as charged, cher, but I have perfectly reasonable explanations for everything.”
Her eyes sparkled when the light hit them. “I’m sure you do, Mr. Lawson.”
“So what can I get for you that won’t interfere with you being on duty?”
She tensed ever so slightly.
“Trust me. I’ve grown up in this life. I can spot Secret Service a mile away. Although I must admit that you bring class to the dark suits and Ray-Bans.”
