Product Description

Investigative reporter Viveca Jackson vowed she'd destroy the wealthy Warner family. After all, the powerful clan was responsible for her father's unfortunate accident and her family's ruin. But when the feisty journalist embarked on her quest for payback, she didn't count on arrogant Andrew Warner's devastating charm, or the passion that flared between them.

Andrew was determined to make her go away. He was also determined to get her into his bed. And after the would-be enemies share a night of fiery passion, each is left wanting more. Although in the light of day, Viveca and Andrew are both left wondering if her undercover deception and his dark family secret will make a not-so-happy ending to their love story.…

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #378811 in Books
• Published on: 2008-10-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 256 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780373860876
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Viveca Jackson had never been a voyeur, reluctant or otherwise.

Until now.

She'd been having a lot of firsts lately.

Like being offered a book deal. She'd gotten the thrill of her life a month ago when she'd picked up the phone in her microscopic East Village apartment and her agent told her that an editor wanted to buy her book. Viveca was writing a family history about the Warners, who were Columbus, Ohio, royalty.

Even more exciting, Arnetta Warner, the family matriarch, wanted to participate in the writing of the book.

It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

Viveca had never dared hope that in one fell swoop she'd get the chance to build her career and ruin the reputation of the Warners, the family that had destroyed her family, but there it was, falling neatly into her lap.

Nor had she ever before taken a leave of absence from her job as a reporter for the New York Times, but she'd arranged the time off, sublet her apartment and flown to Columbus for a six-month stay at Heather Hill, the Warner estate.

Who'd ever have thought the Warners would open the doors of their palace to Viveca while she engineered their long-overdue comeuppance?

Was this divine justice? It sure felt like it.

She'd certainly never seen such a staggering display of wealth. In the Warners' world, uniformed butlers answered front doors, and houses weren't houses. They were estates with pretentious names like Heather Hill and with soaring, domed ceilings, curving staircases, silk wallpaper, damask drapes, crystal chandeliers and priceless antiques.

Unbelievable, really. Sickening.

The butler—Franklin Bishop, he'd said his name was— led Viveca down a long, windowed hallway and into a library to wait for Mrs. Warner. She studied him, liking his quiet dignity. He wore a crisp white dress shirt, starchy enough to stand by itself on the floor, dark trousers and black shoes polished to a mirrored brilliance that almost hurt her eyes.

"If you give me your car keys," he said in an accent that had originated somewhere in the Deep South, his lightly lined brown face crinkling into a welcoming smile, "I can get your luggage and put it in the cottage."

"Oh, no," she began automatically. She hated to think of the old gent lifting those heavy bags, but then she gave herself a swift mental kick in the butt. Why not enjoy the trappings of living with the filthy rich? The Warners owed her that much and more.

But… she still couldn't inconvenience this nice man.

"I can bring them in later," she told him. "Really."

He held out one weathered palm. "Give me those keys right now."

Not wanting to injure his pride, she handed them over and tried to be gracious about it. "Thank you."

"Tea or coffee?" he asked. "You must be thirsty."

"Oh, no," she began again.

He raised a salt-and-pepper eyebrow, and his lips twitched around a repressed smile. "You trying to put me out of my job?"

"Ah, no," she said. Now she felt sheepish.

"Good." He nodded with satisfaction. "I'll bring you some Darjeeling. You'll like that."

"Thanks. Have you been with the family long?"

"Oh… about a thousand years. They couldn't get along without me."

Viveca was still laughing when he winked and left. She reminded herself that in six months, when she finished the research, she'd have to return to the real world, where people handled their own luggage and got their own tea.

Yeah. That'd be an easy transition. Not.

Turning in a loose circle, she gawked openly, something she'd tried not to do in front of Mr. Bishop. She'd thought libraries like this existed only in movies, but she'd been wrong. Thousands of colorful leather-bound books lined thirty-foot-high bookshelves on opposite walls. A staircase on one side of the room led up to a second level, which had a narrow, railed walkway.

Books, books, books.

There was nothing she loved more. If only there had been a plate of brownies with thick, gooey icing on the coffee table, she would have thought she'd stumbled onto heaven on earth. What she wouldn't give to have the run of a library like—

Laughing voices and the splash of water outside broke her train of thought.

One of the French doors, she noticed for the first time, was ajar and let in the sweet, heavy fragrance of roses from some unseen garden and the smell of chlorine. Viveca crept to the doors and peeked out.

Blinding June sunlight scorched her eyes for a second or two, but then an amazing scene came into focus. She saw an enormous, glittering sapphire pool surrounded by columns and statues of various Greek gods, lush potted trees and flowers, and them.

No, him.

She gasped because there was no way to hold in her stunned appreciation of such a man. Or was he a god? She wasn't sure, having never seen anything like him before.

She'd researched him, of course. Andrew Warner, the thirty-five-year-old CEO of WarnerBrands International and heir to the Warner family fortune. He was one of Queen City magazine's most eligible bachelors, Yale graduate, blah, blah, blah.

Meaningless words that couldn't possibly prepare her for this.

Rising out of the pool just twenty feet away, Andrew Warner was glorious. There was no other word for him. That first glimpse of him froze Viveca into place, and she could no more look away than she could resurrect the dead.

She had a dazed initial impression of a flashing white smile, startling against the healthy honey-with-cream color of his skin, and curly, dark hair flattened against his head.

But then she noticed his body and her gaping mouth went dry.

Water streamed down his long limbs as he sauntered over to an occupied lounge chair and sat beside his female companion's legs. Tall, Viveca thought. He was very tall. Muscular, too, with wide, sculpted swimmer's shoulders, a round butt, powerful thighs and shapely calves. A soccer player's calves. Dark hair dusted across his chiseled chest, tapered through the ladder rungs of his abdomen and disappeared into his blue board shorts.

Watching him grab a towel and run it over his head, Viveca felt a strange, tight knot form low in her belly.

The woman laughed, and Viveca's gaze slid unwillingly to her. Viveca refused to acknowledge her negative response to the woman, who was a shade or two darker than Andrew and had a sleek, precision-cut bob.

She'd been lying on her stomach, wearing only the bottoms of a skimpy red bikini, but now she flipped over and sat up. Viveca was treated to a startling glimpse of large, jiggling, walnut-tipped breasts that stuck straight out like twin Hindenbergs, impervious to the effects of gravity.

Don't watch this, Viveca told herself sternly. You're spying on people in a private moment… you don't want to see this…you don't—

She did.

Dismayed and fascinated, Viveca stared as the woman scooted down to the end of the lounge chair, wrapped her arms and legs around Andrew Warner, and pressed—undulated—against his back.

Viveca whimpered involuntarily. Unwelcome images and questions burned through her mind, demanding answers…

What did it feel like to touch that man? To press against that hard, perfect body? To make love with him?

In answer, Viveca's breasts peaked.

Even without touching her, Andrew Warner aroused her more than her few and infrequent boyfriends ever had. This was not good.

Viveca watched as Andrew frowned and pulled away from his companion. The woman laughed, tossed that gleaming hair and, whispering in his ear, snaked her hands down his chest, kneading and caressing.

Viveca couldn't breathe, knowing she should look away and knowing she wouldn't. Slowly…slowly…the woman's hand slid lower until finally it stroked his crotch.

The woman cooed with obvious appreciation.

Viveca gasped again, loudly, and this time there was no splashing water to drown out the sound.

Andrew's head whipped around—naturally he had the perfect hearing of a bat—and Viveca's reflexes failed. The panicked voice in her head screamed directions at her to hide, but her uncomprehending feet and legs did nothing.

Andrew Warner, her enemy and the sexiest man she'd ever seen, looked directly at the French doors and saw her. And Viveca couldn't do anything other than gape.

For one endless, agonizing, pulsing moment, they stared at each other, connected by a force as powerful as it was invisible. Looking into his bright eyes, Viveca felt a succession of his emotions—surprise, curiosity and something darker.

Viveca was mortified and felt her cheeks flame with enough wattage to light the Vegas strip for a year. In the lamest move of her life, she leapt behind the curtains until she was out of his line of sight, a tactic only marginally more effective than rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

Safely hidden, she slapped a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could block out what she'd just seen, or her reaction.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

What had gotten into her?

Outside, Andrew spoke, his voice deep and commanding. "Stop it. Get dressed."

The woman said something whiny, and then was silent.

Breathe, Viveca told herself. After a few seconds her galloping heart rate returned to something approaching normal.

Rattled, she slumped back against a bookshelf, rubbed a hand over her churning belly, pushed Andrew out of her mind and focused on the reason she'd come here, to the heart of the enemy.

Justice for her family.

The Warner family had untold millions, private jets, lavish estates and spoiled playboys, and they deserved none of it. For this simple injustice, she'd hated them for half of her thirty years. Hated their glorious living and, most of all, their overwhelming sense of entitlement, as though they thought God had smiled on them, would smile on them forever and to hell with the rest of the world.

Viveca looked to the portrait above the enormous marble fireplace: Reynolds Warner, the late patriarch of this godforsaken family and as imperious as Henry VIII, stared out at her with a fie...

Customer Reviews

Explosive Secrets and Love

Ann Christopher introduces readers to Viveca Jackson, a reporter for the New York Times. Viveca has decided to take a six-month sabbatical to write the story of the century. She has been commissioned to write the biography of one of the country's most successful families - The Warners. Reynolds Warners built his company from very humble beginnings to a million dollar business. It has been twenty years since his death and Viveca is on a mission to reveal all of their darkest secrets - until she meets Andrew Warner.

Andrew is the current CEO and heir of the Warner Dynasty. He is upset that his mother, Arnetta, has agreed to this tell-all novel. When he meets Viveca he figures he can woo her with his good looks and charm. Viveca proves that she is not one of his regular air-headed models that he is used to dating. Viveca is sexy, smart and she refuses to allow anyone to take advantage of her. Viveca has other reasons for wanting to write the book and she is determined to get it done. Andrew has his own reasons for not wanting the story told. After sharing a night of passion, they realize they shared the same desires and the same sexual appetite. It was their attraction that ultimately prevents them from getting what they want.

Tender Secrets is part romance and mystery. The reader is instantly captured in the secret lives of the Warner family as everyone tried to hide a secret that could destroy everything. Uncovering family secrets would also ease the heartache that Viveca has carried around with her for years. As the reader, I was easily captured in this story and eagerly turned each page as I tried to put the puzzle together. I recommend this book to anyone who loves a little mystery along with their romance.

Reviewed by: Priscilla C. Johnson
APOOO BookClub

This book is a must read!!!
OMG!!! I sent in a promo card to receive some free books within the Kimani Romance selections and this is one of the books that I received. I had no expectations about how good the book would be and this is my first read written by Ann Christopher. Hands down this was the best book I have ever read. I read it twice and this is the first time I've ever commented on book. Viveca & Andrew's relationship was presented the best I've ever seen.

Andrew Warner a smart, spoiled, arrogant, sexy, adventurous, & wounded man is just the perfect match for Viveca Jackson a strong, vivacious, smart, determined, & wounded woman. The fact that Andrew was more than persistent with Viveca and she needed so many confirmations from her lover the relationship was the most explosive I have ever experienced in all my reading. I found myself getting so involved in all the hidden skeletons and feeling all the emotions when the secrets were revealed. Mystery plus Romance is an awesome combination. This book is a definite winner in my opinion. If this type of writing is what I have to look forward to from Ann Christopher I will be an avid follower.

Pleasantly Surprised
When I read this book I wasn't expecting much. I had read Road to Seduction and it was ok. But I must say that this one was worth the money. It was cute, intense and sexy all rolled into one. But the best part was that it held my interest. Job well done.