Sultry Nights

Love can be risky business…

*Her Rules

Dominique Lawson lives life on her terms, making up the rules along the way. This beautiful Lawson twin and heiress to a glittering Louisiana dynasty goes after what she wants—and usually gets it. But Trevor Jackson seems immune to her charms. That’s until Dominique plots her all-out sensual assault on the blatantly sexy contractor, who’s as cool as they come. Now passion is heating up the Southern sky....

*His Passion

Dominique may be his boss, but Trevor plans to show the pampered princess what desire is really about. Never mind that they clash on just about everything—it’s only a matter of time before the blue-blooded beauty is his. Can he convince Dominique that they belong together, now and for all the sensual nights to come?

Dominique swerved her chair from in front of her computer screen and slammed her knee into the desk when she caught her first glimpse of Trevor’s broad back, lean waist and tight behind.

White-hot pain shot up from her knee and exploded into tiny stars in her head. She gripped the edge of the desk and bit down on her lip to keep from screaming.

But the real cause of the heat that flooded her cheeks and set her heart racing was when Trevor looked over his shoulder at the sound of the collision.

For a moment, she couldn’t think beyond the pain in her knee and the vision before her. Trevor Jackson was not the stumpy, balding, cigar-chewing, dirty-under-the-fingernails contractor that she’d expected. He was an Idris Elba look-alike, with the build and piercing dark eyes to cinch the deal. If he opened his mouth and spouted the King’s English, she was done. His right eyebrow lifted and she only wished her lashes were as naturally thick as his.

Concentrating on standing up without wobbling on her aching knee, she made it to her feet as he turned fully around. Her stomach fluttered.

“Mr.…” Her mind went blank.

“Jackson.”

Sultry Nights

Donna Hill

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

I hope you are all excited to finally get your hands on the third book in my Lawsons of Louisiana series. You’ve already met the family, and each of them has a story to tell. This time, feisty Dominique takes center stage when she comes head-to-head with Trevor Jackson. Dominique is spoiled, rich and used to getting what she wants. Trevor couldn’t care less, and that really ticks Dominique off. But things aren’t what they seem at all.

When I originally started thinking about my next Lawson book, it was titled Risky Business because, as we all know, mixing business with pleasure is nothing but trouble. And Dominique and Trevor have more trouble than either of them bargain for. Fortunately Trevor has a good friend in Max Hunt (Ladies, he is fine! with a capital F), and he can offer sound advice. (I know readers are going to want a story about Max!) And thankfully Dominique has her sisters and her good girlfriend Zoe (from Legacy of Love) to share her angst.

Of course the rest of the Lawson clan, as well as their significant others, will be making an appearance. So you will have a chance to catch up on everyone. I know readers have been asking for Rafe’s story. I’m saving him for me… I mean for later. So savor him while you can, because it’s going to take a special woman to tie him down.

In the meantime, put your feet up, grab something cold and welcome to the steamy, sultry world of Dominique Lawson and Trevor Jackson.

Until next time,

Donna

This book is lovingly dedicated to all of my readers who have continued to support my work for twenty-one years! I could not have done it without you.

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

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Spend My Life With You (Preview)

Chapter 1

Dominique Lawson frowned as she fussed with her father, Branford’s, bow tie. “Daddy, if you would stand still I can get it straight. What are all those guests going to say when they see the great Senior Senator Branford Lawson walking his daughter down the aisle with a crooked bow tie?” She adjusted the edges and smoothed the starched white collar of his tuxedo shirt.

“They’re gonna say those Lawson girls must be costing ole Branford a fortune with all these weddings.” He huffed in feigned annoyance and tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “First Lee Ann and now Desi.”

“Well, Daddy, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be getting married anytime soon—if ever.” She patted his broad chest with a delicate hand. Her Vera Wang bridesmaid gown in a shimmering honey-tone rustled ever so softly when she moved away.

“You say that now. But when the right man comes along, you’ll be singing a different tune.”

“Don’t count on it. I love my freedom to come and go as I please. I love my independence as a business woman and I’m not ready to give that all up to kowtow to the whims of a man—especially on a regular basis.” She pursed coral-tinted lips.

Branford tucked in his smile. It was true, of his three daughters Dominique was in a class all by herself. She and her twin sister, Desiree, couldn’t be more different. Dominique was defiant against authority from the time she was in the crib. She was free-spirited and had more men sniffing at her heels than he would like. She enjoyed variety and her relationship attention span was like that of a five-year-old. He’d long ago lost count of whom she was seeing. And she spent money as if it grew on trees in the yard. It was a miracle that the non-profit organization she’d started hadn’t gone under. He was sure it was his eldest daughter, Lee Ann’s, wise but firm counsel that was the salvation for the business. Dominique was the female version of her older brother, Rafe, whom he’d all but given up on ever settling down.

“You two almost ready?” Lee Ann called out, poking her head in the bedroom door.

Whenever Branford looked at his daughter Lee Ann he saw the younger version of his beloved wife, Louisa, and his heart ached a bit at the memory. Lee Ann was delicate in a way that Louisa was not, but she had Louisa’s facial structure and the very same light in her eyes. She also had the uncanny ability to manage her life and the Lawson clan without missing a beat.

“Well, don’t you look ‘matron of honorish,’” Dominique said with a grin. “Love the new hairdo,” she added, acknowledging Lee Ann’s short, tapered hairstyle.

“Not looking too bad yourself, little sis.” Lee Ann came fully into the room and stood at the foot of the bed.

“Where’s that husband of yours?” Branford asked, checking his diamond cuff links.

Lee Ann’s face lit up from the inside at the mention of her husband, Preston. They’d been married less than a year and even with the hectic life of being a senator’s wife and all that entailed, the glow of being newlyweds had yet to wear off.

“He’s in the den talking music and football with Rafe and Justin and trying to stay out of everyone’s way,” she said laughing. “The decorators are finished. Downstairs looks like a wonderland. Oh, my goodness. And the yard is truly heaven. The caterers are setting up and the band should be here in about an hour. The guests are going to be blown away. Oh, the photographer is here, Dom. He wants to start getting some photos with us and Desi before we head over to the church.”

Dominique patted her hair. “Always ready for my close-up.” She hooked her arm through Lee Ann’s.

“You okay, Daddy?” Lee Ann asked as the sisters started for the door.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

Lee Ann eased away from Dominique and walked back to her father. “I know you’re wishing Mama was here,” she said softly. She tenderly touched his strong jaw. “But she is.” She smiled, kissed his cheek then wiped the lipstick smudge with the pad of her thumb. “She would be very happy.”

Branford swallowed over the sudden knot in his throat, then cleared it roughly. “You all better go on and see about your sister.”

Lee Ann’s eyes lovingly flickered over her father’s face for a moment before she turned and joined Dominique.

* * *

Dominique tapped lightly on Desiree’s bedroom door. “It’s us,” she called out and opened the door.

Desiree was seated at her dressing table and spun slowly around on the stool when her sisters entered. Joy radiated from her like the morning sun blooming across the horizon.

Dominique’s hands went to her mouth, gasping in awe as she was struck by the vision that was her sister. She looked like a descended angel in the strapless ivory gown with its stitched bustier and tumbled layers of lace and organza that floated away from her small waist in a burst of diaphanous perfection. Her hair that she generally wore wild and free was pulled away from her face into a sleek bun that accentuated her sharp cheeks and wide eyes. A single white lily, reminiscent of Billie Holiday was tucked in her hair. Diamond studs that her mother, Louisa, and her sister Lee Ann had worn on their wedding days sparkled in her lobes.

“Oh, Desi,” Dominique whispered, quickening her step into the room. She reached for her sister’s hand. “You look…incredible.” She could feel her eyes begin to tear up and she sniffed hard. She was not going to ruin her makeup. “Girl, you are absolutely beautiful,” she said in an awed whisper. This was the woman who shared her same face but was as different from her as apples to oranges. Desiree’s idea of being fashionable was a business suit, and when she wasn’t in corporate mode she was behind the wheel of some race car in a grimy jumpsuit and a helmet. Dominique slowly shook her head. “Wait til Spence sees you. He’s gonna run up the aisle to meet you!”

The sisters burst into laughter.

Lee Ann stepped up to her younger sister and tenderly braced her shoulders. “You are going to make a beautiful bride, an amazing wife and awesome mom…when the time comes,” she added. “I’m so happy for you, sis.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting married,” Desi said a bit breathlessly.

Their brother Justin knocked on the door and stuck his head in. “The photographer is getting anxious, ladies.”

“Send him up, J,” Lee Ann said.

“Looking good, baby bro,” Desiree called out.

Justin, the youngest of the Lawson brood, had truly grown into his looks, bypassing his older brother, Rafe, by an inch in height with a body that had filled out and become defined and sculpted from his weekly workout. Justin’s smooth mint-chocolate complexion made women want to run their hands across his face and check if those deep dimples were real. As much as he could have been a serious Louisiana playboy, Justin was totally focused on his education and following in the footsteps of his father.

Justin winked at his sister in response to her compliment. “I’ll send him up,” he said before shutting the door.

The sister’s did last-minute makeup and hair checks before the photographer arrived.

“Dom, have you settled on a contractor yet for the expansion of First Impressions?” Lee Ann asked as she added a hint more lipstick and straightened the diamond necklace that Preston had given her on their wedding day.

“The cutoff for bidding was last week Monday. I have to review all the submissions to see where I’ll get the best deal.”

“Don’t wait too long. With the new tax incentive initiatives for small businesses to hire and the infrastructure push across the country, good contractors will be getting scarce.”

Dominique adjusted the top of her dress. “Can you imagine that there might be a shortage of workers when for the past couple of years they had no jobs at all? The tides have finally started to change.”

“And not a minute too soon,” Lee Ann added.

“Okay, enough talk about business. Today is my wedding day. The only conversations should be what I’m going to wear—or not wear—on my honeymoon!”

They all laughed and slapped palms just as the photographer knocked on the door and the most important day in Desiree Lawson’s life was in full swing.

The realization that she was going to lose another sister was not lost on Dominique, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.

* * *

Every photographer in the state of Louisiana must have been camped out on the steps and the streets bordering Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church, hoping to get that money shot of the bride and groom and, of course, the political and entertainment figures that made up the Who’s Who guest list.

The forty-five minute service brought tears to the eyes of the most cynical of hearts when Desiree and Spence shared their personally written vows and professed their love for each other with God and four-hundred-plus guests as witnesses.

Yet, even with that many people on the guest list, the wedding planner and her team were miraculously able to make the reception feel intimate and personal from the seating arrangements to the decor.

The band played everything from zydeco to slow jams, R&B classics, to blues and jazz. Rafe joined the band and did a solo performance on his sax playing his rendition of “Just the Two of Us,” by Grover Washington, Jr. in tribute to his sister and new brother-in-law.

Dominique did what she did best, flit like a bee from one flower to the next, teasing, cajoling and mesmerizing. But even as she remained one of the bright lights of the lavish affair she couldn’t shake off a feeling of disconnect.

Everywhere that she looked, couples were laughing, hugging, kissing or looking for a corner to sneak away to. They all seemed to have someone to go home with, spend tomorrow and the day after with.

She reached for a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and took a short sip as her toffee-colored eyes moved around the room. Paul LeMont, her date for the evening, came up alongside her and placed a light kiss on her exposed neck. She didn’t feel a thing, not a tingle, not a spark, even as the warmth of his lush mouth played against the fine veins of her throat and his whispered words hinted at what he had in store for her later. She would let him take her to his home tonight. Tonight of all nights she didn’t want to sleep alone. And sleep is all they would do.

Dominique turned into his embrace and looked up at his cover model face. “Let’s dance.”

Chapter 2

Dominique navigated her Mercedes coupe in the direction of her office, turning onto Magnolia Court North before making the left onto Main Street into the heart of downtown Baton Rouge.

“It was so good seeing you and Jackson and the kids at the wedding,” Dominique said, speaking into her headset to her best girlfriend, Zoe Beaumont-Treme. “I wish Cynthia could have made it.”

“Me, too, but she was with us in spirit from Paris. Your aunt Jacqueline looked incredible. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“I know. Neither have we. She writes to Rafe every now and then from wherever she may be with her job. But her and dad haven’t spoken since…Uncle David.”

“That’s really such a shame. When all else fails what you have left is family.”

“She said she may stay in Louisiana for a little while before she picks up her next assignment. Who knows maybe she and dad will find a way to work through things.”

“I hope so. Not to change the subject but I’m still wowing over your sister’s dress. Is she back from her honeymoon yet?”

“They came home last week. She looks fantastic. I still can’t believe Desi is married. She’s now Desiree Hampton.”

“Is Desi going to hyphenate her name?” Zoe asked.

“I don’t know. Why is it that women have to take the man’s name, anyway? It is so yesterday. Things are changing but not fast enough and until they do, I intend to hold on to my own.” Not that she had any immediate prospects in that regard, but that was beside the point. It was the principle.

“Girl, when the right man comes along I want to be a fly on the wall to hear what you have to say then.”

Dominique heard one of Zoe’s twins crying in the background. “I hear duty calling.”

Zoe laughed lightly. “Those are ‘we’re hungry cries.’ I’d better go. I’ll call you over the weekend. Maybe we can meet up for lunch.”

“Sure. Take care. Kiss the kids…and Jackson.”

“Will do. Bye, sweetie.”

Dominique heard the call disconnect in her ear. An odd feeling of sadness swept through her. She and Zoe and Cynthia had been friends since they were little girls. When Zoe moved to Atlanta a few years earlier to pursue her career as a curator at the High Museum, and Cynthia a year later to open her business, it was difficult but they still managed to get together. They took vacations, shared secrets and shoes, and then Jackson Treme stepped into Zoe’s life and everything changed for good. Now she was a married woman with two-year-old twins. But at least she and Jackson had moved back to Louisiana, so they did get to see each other more often, and Cynthia had been thinking of expanding her business and opening a secondary location back in her hometown of Louisiana. It would be great to have her girls back again.

Dominique pulled onto her street and drove around the corner to the small lot behind her building and parked her car, cut the engine, dropped her cell phone into her purse and got out. The alarm chirped as she pushed through the doors of the back entrance.

Getting First Impressions off the ground was Dominique’s pride and joy. Everyone in her very ambitious family—save for her older brother, Rafe—was involved in something important. Sure, she could have spent her days shopping and lunching and traveling, but with her best friends married or moved away she found her days becoming empty and meaningless. She wanted her father to be proud of her, too, and that would have never happen if she’d continued living her life the way she’d been living it. He’d threatened on more than one occasion to cut off her endless funds if she didn’t get her life together.

It was her older sister, Lee Ann, who had helped her to explore some of the ideas that had been running around in her head. If there was anything that Dominique was good at it was shopping and clothes. Her first thought was to open an exclusive boutique and use her many contacts to supply one-of-a-kind items.

“That’s wonderful,” Lee Ann had said, “but who needs another exclusive boutique? Who is that helping? What about supplying quality clothing for women who can’t afford them?”

That was the seed of the idea that materialized into First Impressions. It was a top-of-the-line clothing establishment that provided clothing to low-income women that were returning to the workplace or needed that special one-of-a-kind outfit for an event. It started off small, but after less than six months in business she could barely keep up. She had a full staff that screened all of the applicants, stocked the racks and kept up with inventory.

Dominique’s sense of style and understanding of what each woman needed to make them feel special was an integral part of the company’s success. Now, with a bit more than two years in business, she was ready to expand and include a training program for women as part of her services. To do that she needed more space.

For the past month she’d been reviewing applications from contractors and had finally narrowed down her search to one: T. Jackson Contracting. She’d heard great things about the company, and was impressed with their proposal. She had a meeting scheduled with the owner in less than an hour.

* * *

Trevor Jackson maneuvered his Range Rover down the narrow street, slowing periodically to search for the address. He stopped in front of the building with the teal-blue awning and plate-glass window. “First Impressions” was emblazoned in bright white letters. He turned the corner and found a parking space. He draped the strap of his camera around his neck, took his iPad to take notes and walked back to the entrance.

He opened the glass-and-wood front door and a bell chimed. From the outside the size was deceiving. It was much larger than he expected and everywhere that he looked there were racks and shelves of women’s clothing, shoes, purses and accessories in glass cases.

“May I help you?”

He turned toward the sound of the voice. A good-looking middle-aged woman in a crisp navy-blue suit and pale pink blouse approached him.

“Hi, I’m looking for Ms. Lawson. We have an appointment.”

“You must be Mr. Jackson.”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “I’m Phyllis. Dominique is expecting you. Let me show you to her office.”

They walked around the racks of clothing to the back of the showroom and then down a narrow hallway. The walls were lined with framed photographs of women in a variety of settings and outfits.

“Those are pictures of our ladies,” Phyllis said by way of explanation. “Most of them are single mothers getting back to work, or women who had been incarcerated and are starting life over again. Some are high school seniors that needed a prom dress. I was one of them,” she added.

Trevor didn’t try to guess which category she fell into.

Phyllis stopped and knocked on a closed door.

He faintly heard a voice from the other side say to come in.

Phyllis turned the knob and opened the door. “Mr. Jackson is here.”

“Thanks, Phyllis,” Dominique said from behind the frame of her computer screen. “Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Jackson,” she said and continued typing. “I’ll be right with you.”

Phyllis eased out and Trevor stepped inside. He took a quick survey of the small, totally feminine office and crossed the room to view the framed photographs on a chrome wall unit.

He’d seen pictures of the Lawson family in the newspapers and on television for years that spotlighted the high-class parties, the politics, the weddings and even the scandals that swirled around the oldest son. He’d had some doubts about bidding on the job. He’d had his share of rich folk and their “issues,” their demands and fickleness. It was his business partner, Max Hunt, who finally convinced him that it was worth doing. The work that the organization did—according to its brochure—fit into Trevor and Max’s sense of service to the community. Although he preferred to work in low-income neighborhoods and help the families in the 9th Ward rebuild, this would be his one corporate project for the year.

Dominique swerved her chair from in front of her computer screen and slammed her knee into the desk when she caught her first glimpse of Trevor’s broad back, lean waist and tight behind. White-hot pain shot up from her knee and exploded into tiny stars in her head. She gripped the edge of the desk and bit down on her lip to keep from screaming.