Nixie Rowland is having a bad day. Rushing home to drown her sorrows in ice cream and reality television, she decides to take a shortcut to the subway where things take a turn for the worst. But Nixie’s bad luck doesn’t end there—the white knight who comes to her rescue is none other than the Dark Knight of Wall Street, a cocky Manhattan mogul whose ego barely fits inside his penthouse. To her horror, Nixie discovers the sizzling attraction between them is off the charts, and rising fast. Spending the night in his bed does nothing to lower the heat… And everything to set her heart on fire.
Nash Knight doesn’t have room in his life, or his heart, for anything beyond one-night stands or casual flings. And he certainly doesn’t make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress. Except that this particular damsel slips beneath his armor, the vulnerability she covers with a false show of bravado hitting him somewhere deep. Nixie is everything he never wanted… And exactly what he needs.
With Nixie on the run from a controlling ex, and Nash trying to salvage a business deal at risk because his conquests in the bedroom are overshadowing his wins in the boardroom, there’s one simple solution for them both: a marriage in name only. But when lust becomes love, will their untamed emotions be a deal breaker?
To say my evening wasn’t going as planned would be an understatement.
Nash Knight didn’t rescue damsels in distress, and he sure as hell didn’t play nursemaid.
In business I was ruthless. The Black Knight of Wall Street, or so I’d been called. And in the ring I was downright vicious.
But this particular damsel had somehow gotten beneath my armor, under my skin. Was it because Nixie’s skin was so damn perfect, that dusting of freckles across her pert nose so enticing? Or the suspicion radiating from her like a magnetic force field, pressing against my lungs?
But if I had to guess, it was the fear that flashed in her eyes for the briefest of moments, a display of vulnerability so quick I almost missed it, before she put on a false show of bravado.
Nixie wasn’t scared of me, not physically anyway. She was hiding something. Something she didn’t want anyone to know. Even the stranger that had saved her life. Or at least, her wallet.
What was it?
The reason I was so good at what I did—the best, actually—was my innate ability to spot weaknesses and exploit them for my own benefit. Staring at the now closed door of the bathroom, I wondered something else. Why the fuck did I care? Nixie was a woman, not a company. There was no potential for profit here.
What was it about this girl that had kept me up half the night, my ears on alert for the slightest change in her breathing? Needing to know that she was okay. Safe.
A minute ago I’d been close enough to smell the citrus notes of Nixie’s shampoo wafting up from her sleep-mussed mane. My arm had been wrapped around her tiny waist, my palm pressed to her ribs, registering every breath, every tremble. And all I’d wanted was to bring my lips down to hers and find out if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
I didn’t, and not just because she was obviously in pain and off-kilter from pills.
I’d been honest when I said my Google search pulled up nothing. Until a year ago, Nixie Rowland hadn’t existed. Prior to that, I couldn’t find a single link to anything that Nixie Rowland had ever said or done. “You didn’t fall from the damned sky,” I’d grumbled, clicking through site after site.
In this day and age, such invisibility was impossible. Local papers published the names of athletes, high school graduates, and the winners of contests and awards from spelling bee champions to prize-winning animals. And, of course, there was always the police blotter.
There was no record of Nixie Rowland scoring a soccer goal, graduating high school, or enrolling in college. She hadn’t won a spelling bee or raised a prize hog. And she wasn’t a criminal. Online, Nixie Rowland didn’t exist.
About the Author
Tara Leigh attended Washington University in St. Louis and Columbia Business School in New York, and worked on Wall Street and Main Street before “retiring” to become a wife and mother. When the people in her head became just as real as the people in her life, she decided to put their stories on paper. Tara currently lives in Fairfield County, Connecticut with her husband, children and fur-baby, Pixie.