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Nothing In Common

by Megan Hart

Amber Quill Press, LLC

www.amberquill.com

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the

purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized

person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer,

paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International

NOTHING IN COMMON

MEGAN HART

* * * *

ISBN 1-59279-346-0

Amber Quill Press, LLC

www.amberquill.com

Also By Megan Hart

After Class

Convicted

Dream Upon Waking

A Siege Of Herons

White Wedding

Driven

Friendly Fire

Lonesome Bride

Love Match

Opening The Door

Passion Model

Playing The Game

Pot Of Gold

Riverboat Bride

Sand Castle

Trial By Fire

With Steps Like Knives

All You Can Eat

The Clear Cold Light Of Morning

Emerald Isle

An Exaltation Of Larks

DEDICATION

To Billy Zane for being just too darned pretty

To my kids for all the love and pride

To my family for their support

And to DPF, the true survivor of the shark cage ... I'm the one who got lucky

CHAPTER 1

Men like that should be illegal.

The man standing across the room from Sarah Lazin was utterly,

unquestionably perfect. Broad, strong shoulders, flat stomach, narrow hips,

long, lean legs. His midnight-colored hair was cropped short around his

smooth neck and perfectly shaped ears, but left longer on top so the errant

pieces fell across his forehead to brush eyes a pure light hazel, like amber

touched with green, contrasting sharply with the brows the same inky shade as

his hair. His strong, firm jaw and sensuous lips looked as though they could

bring a woman to her knees with one kiss.

Some other woman, maybe. Handsome men were like bargain basement grab

bags. They came in attractive packages that promised an exciting surprise

inside, but once you got them home, all you ended up with was a bunch of

junk. He'd spout words as pretty as his face until a better prospect came

along, just like her last boyfriend had done. Though it had been over for two

years, the memory still stung enough to make her rattle the ice cubes in her

glass. William Darcy had told her he'd only dated her to do her a favor. He'd

left her for a woman who looked like she'd been built from the Everyman's

Dream catalog.

No, Sarah had been there, done that, didn't need to do it again. Men who

looked like that were great as eye-candy, but anything beyond that, she could

do without. Unfortunately, he'd caught her staring. With a slight smile playing

about his incredible mouth, he headed toward her. Now she'd done it.

It's all fun and games until someone catches your eye.

“Excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing you from across the room,” the

object of her attention said.

His voice, low but not rumbling, smooth like silk, went straight to the pit of

her stomach, where it took a sharp turn south. Satin sheets and candlelight,

she had time to think before he spoke again and saved her from her own

long-ignored and petulant libido.

“Have we met before?"

That mouth and those eyes might be thigh-opening, but his opening line left

her flatter than day-old beer. In a way, it was a relief. A convenient buffer

against his unbelievable face and perfect body.

“I don't think so."

“I'm sure I've seen you before. I'm pretty good with faces,” he insisted.

“Me, too, and I'm sure I would have remembered yours.” Distracted by the

sight of his mouth moving, she spoke before she knew it. Her cheeks heated

as she realized what she'd said. Of all the idiotic replies! Not that he seemed to

mind or even notice. Then again, a man who looked like he did must surely be

used to women drooling and fawning all over him.

He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Alex Caine."

“Sarah Lazin.” She allowed him to capture her hand with his for a moment.

His fingers were warm.

The silk of her dress began to rub her in all the right places. Sarah shifted, and

the cloth whispered first on her stocking-clad legs, then higher up, against the

bare skin of her thighs. Damn her laziness for not buying more pantyhose. The

garter belt and stockings she'd thrown on earlier because she had no

pantyhose without runs had suddenly started to seduce her. She forced herself

to stand still, even though the pressure of his fingers on hers still made her

want to squirm.

“Sarah.” Alex mouthed her name as though tasting it. “I had a goldfish named

Sarah once."

He'd managed to tease a smile from her. “I was named after my

great-grandmother. I don't believe she ever had a goldfish."

They stared in silence for a few minutes, until Alex gestured at the crowded

room. “Quite the party."

Sarah nodded. “It certainly is."

Her sister's paintings always drew large crowds. Rivka Delaney had won Best

Local Artist in the Capital Magazine Best Of Central PA Contest over other,

more prominent Pennsylvania artists for two years in a row. Tonight's theme

centered around Rivka's latest project. Teasingly called “The X-Men,” after a

popular comic book series her husband adored, Rivka had done twenty

portraits of local men: businessmen, doctors, accountants, cashiers at the

local grocery store, the janitor from her building. Though they came from

many different backgrounds, Rivka had somehow looked at each of them and

found something--an expression, a way of standing--that made even the ones

who were not “classically” handsome look like models. It was Rivka's gift.

She had a way of finding whatever beauty the subject had inside and bringing

it to the canvas.

“I love Rivka Delaney's work.” Alex pointed at the piece directly behind them

and sipped from his drink. “I have some of her prints at my house. I'd love to

have an original, but they're hard to come by."

Sarah watched the way his smooth throat worked with every swallow, and her

own mouth went a little dry. Pretty face, she reminded herself sternly. Bargain

basement junk.

“Rivka doesn't like letting go of her paintings."

“You know her?"

Sarah glanced over her shoulder toward the knot of people surrounding her

flamboyant sister. “I guess you could say I've followed her career since she

started."

He gave her that stunning grin again. “Lots of people here tonight."

“Yes."

“You're a woman of few words, aren't you?"

It's because I want to use my mouth for other things than talking, Sarah

thought and gave herself a mental shake. This was dangerous ground. It had

been a long time since a man had affected her this way, but she knew all too

well the end results. She didn't answer, just gave him a raised eyebrow that

made him laugh. He tipped his head back so she could see the smooth motion

of his Adam's apple as it bobbed in his throat.

Oh, he's perfection. Absolute, sheer, unadulterated perfection.

“Listen.” Alex leaned in closer to her. “Crowds drive me bonkers. How about

we go someplace quiet and have a cup of coffee? We can talk about Rivka's

work."

He'd done it again. The cheesy pick-up line, meant to melt her like butter.

Sarah supposed it worked on most women, him being the beautiful specimen

of manhood that he was and all, but she wasn't most women. She breathed

deep, grateful to have resisted his siren song.

“I don't drink coffee."

“Brrrr.” The curve of his smile didn't affect her so much this time. “Did it just

get colder in here or is it me?"

“Look.” Sarah attempted to soften her comment. “I'm sure you're not used to

being turned down. It's just that--"

“What's that supposed to mean?” His full lips thinned as his smile vanished

completely. “I'm not used to being turned down?"

Sarah tilted her chin, knowing she'd put her foot in something, but not willing

to admit what. “Men like you aren't used to having women tell them no."

“Men like me?"

Heat flared higher in her cheeks.

“I meant men who look like you.” She paused and gestured toward the

painting on the wall behind them. “X Men."

Megan Hart - Nothing In Common.pdf

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