The tension within the master suite of the newly acquired Duplex had reached a fever pitch, the air heavy with a fragrance that was a heady mix of Lora’s jasmine perfume and the crisp, masculine scent of Ace Kane. Lora Hale felt as though she were suspended in a state of sensory overload, her pulse thundering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Every point of contact with Ace felt like an electric discharge, a searing heat that bypassed her logic and spoke directly to her nerve endings. Her body was experiencing a civil war; while her mind attempted to uphold the borders of her traditional values, her biological instincts were staging a coup. Those long, shapely legs—elegant, smooth as polished ivory and encased in the softest silk—seemed to have surrendered their autonomy, tangling with
