Just the Way You Are

Beverly Barton

Chapters (24)

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

All Parr could think of was how irresistible Mary Beth was. She smelled of some lush, feminine perfume, a scent so enticing that he longed to see if she tasted as sweetly sensual. He had no right to touch her. She was his brother’s woman.

So why the hell wasn’t Bobby Joe here protecting what was his? Male instinct should have kicked in. It was for Parr.

“I want to taste you, Strawberry. I want to put my mouth on yours.”

“Parr . . . I . . . Look, just don’t. Please. This is hard.”

“Yeah. For me too.”

“Yes,” she sighed. She wasn’t agreeing to anything. But that softly breathed yes was a million miles away from no.

“I may be too rough,” he warned. “I’m not used to good girls like you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she pleaded.

One big, dark finger touched her lower lip, running tenderly from corner to corner, pausing as her mouth gradually opened. “Your lips look so sweet,” he murmured. “So inviting.”

“Oh, Parr.”

“Do you want my mouth on yours, Strawberry?”

“Yes,” she begged, her body leaning into his....

Books by Beverly Barton

AFTER DARK
EVERY MOVE SHE MAKES
WHAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW
THE FIFTH VICTIM
THE LAST TO DIE
AS GOOD AS DEAD
KILLING HER SOFTLY
CLOSE ENOUGH TO KILL
MOST LIKELY TO DIE
THE DYING GAME
THE MURDER GAME
COLD HEARTED
SILENT KILLER
DEAD BY MIDNIGHT
DON’T CRY
DEAD BY MORNING
DEAD BY NIGHTFALL
DON’T SAY A WORD
JUST THE WAY YOU ARE
THE RIGHT WIFE (available as an eBook)

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

Title Page

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

BEVERLY BARTON

ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Chapter One

Parr Weston stood just inside the wide double doors that had been left ajar, his broad shoulders practically filling the opening. He hated social gatherings, especially if the invitation specified black tie, but this was one he’d been unable to refuse. The engagement party for his younger brother, Bobby Joe, seemed to be in full swing. The enormous hotel ballroom was jammed with formally attired guests, dancing, drinking, and celebrating up a storm.

But Bobby Joe was nowhere to be seen, which was odd. Maybe he had stepped out for a smoke, something he’d sworn he’d given up long ago. Parr wouldn’t put it past him.

He looked back into the crowded ballroom and shook his head, then went outside. The dimly lit patio beyond the doors was edged with benches set between manicured shrubs, but Parr didn’t want to sit. The night air was warm and balmy, surprisingly pleasant for late April in Iminga, Mississippi. He leaned back against a smooth wrought-iron pillar, relaxing his tall, rugged frame for a few moments in the embrace of the soft night.