The Scientist and the Supermodel
Geneticist Jake Martin has brilliant scientific vision, but he’s blind to his own nature. Despite his flagging interest in women and his past experience with a man, he’s convinced himself he’d be happy if he could just have his older boss, Emmaline Silvay, as his lover. Living in his closeted dream world, he’s unprepared for the powerful attraction he experiences to supermodel Roan Black, “the most beautiful man in the world.”
Jake can’t resist the gorgeous, androgynous creature. Who could? he thinks. But Roan refuses to accept him until Jake admits that it’s a man he wants and this man in particular. Jake tells himself it’s just sex, but his refusal to understand what he really needs threatens the best chance at happiness he’s ever had. Is there a future for a PhD scientist who refuses to see and a high school dropout supermodel who understands all too clearly?
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Though currently out-of-print, Tara hopes to return this bestselling erotic and romantic four-book series of passionate ménages to retailers soon.
What People Are Saying
One of the things I love about reading books by Tara Lain is the way her imagination comes out in the written word. It’s all the cute lines and the vivid details that leave you smiling and going back to re-read them again. I fell in love with both of the heroes in the first book, Genetic Attraction, so I was eager to get my hands on this one…. It’s funny how, when you read a book that is so good, the characters not only hold your attention but your heart as well. … Not only does the book have an in-depth plot that broke my heart, it also had a beautiful air of tenderness that left me breathless.
I loved this story. The realistic responses from each of the characters pulled me in. Ms. Lain has a way with showing the flaws of her characters and then flip them upside down. Her male on male sex is hot and not what I expected. The surprise threesome was pivotal in the story and necessary, despite the grief it caused. I recommend this book to people who like a happily for now story with a guaranteed happily ever after in the book detailing Jake, Roan and Emmaline’s story.
I absolutely loved this book. I loved meeting Jake’s family. I loved seeing Jake grow into himself. I loved seeing Roan as a multidimensional character. I didn’t want to put it down and I sure didn’t want to be bothered while reading it.
I have to highly recommend this book to anyone who loves a good romantic story.
The bar suited his mood. Dark, a little musty, it looked like the renovations throughout the old Los Angeles hotel hadn’t made it this far yet. Candles glowed on the few tables at the back and on the massive horseshoe-shaped bar that dominated the room. He climbed onto a barstool away from the door. From their badges, it looked like a few conference attendees had found the place, but he didn’t recognize anyone. Perfect.
“What can I get you?”
The buxom, California-blonde bartender smiled and looked like she might be offering more than a drink. No fucking thank you.
“A dirty martini, two olives.” He barely knew what that was, but he’d heard a friend order one and liked the sound of it. Just the way he felt.
Lack of performance. At twenty-five. Not exactly every young man’s complaint. In college, he’d been a serious cocksman, banging half the girls he met. He wasn’t exactly proud of that, but it was the truth. The last couple years, though, except for his dreams of Em, he just didn’t have the enthusiasm. Since his PhD. Since Tom.
The bartender placed the drink carefully in front of him, displaying a rack to make a centerfold weep. He grabbed the martini and took a swallow —
The bartender grinned as his eyes teared. She inconspicuously placed a glass of water in front of him and walked away. He’d definitely failed the finals in macho tonight. Another mouthful, and he let it slip down his throat this time. Was this supposed to be good? Bitter, burning. He’d think of it as penance.
Thinking. There was the rub. Tonight wasn’t the first — or even fifth — time he’d been half-cocked with a girl. Maybe it was the studying, writing his dissertation. He knew doctors said that stress could affect a guy’s…ability, interest. He’d gone for months without a girl while finishing the doctorate. No problem. But, of course, there’d been Tom. Tom had cared for him. He could admit it now, even though he’d tried to ignore it then. And Jake — shit. He’d been a shit.
The next big swallow of the martini went down real smooth.
“Want another one?”
He startled at her voice. “Sure.” ‘Cause he felt very, very dirty.
A nice buzz set in. Not much of a drinker. He adjusted his wire rims. Man, he’d never feel the same way about them after tonight. Clark Kent, huh? He liked that.
He looked across the bar through a comfortable little haze. There were a couple of conference nerds, possibly an LA hooker trying to persuade them to view her etchings, some other random business types, and —
Who did that guy think he was, Brad Pitt? A baseball cap and sunglasses in this black hole. How could he see his drink? Jesus, was he drinking champagne? Alone?
The bartender was Johnny-on-the-spot with the next martini, and Jake took another mouthful. Oh yeah, just like silk. He hoped there was a lot of nutrition in an olive, because this sure as fuck was dinner.
He looked up again at the guy across the bar. At least he thought it was a guy. He could see longish hair sticking out from under the cap. And the mouth… From what he could see, those lips would make Angelina Jolie jealous. Maybe a girl?
As he took another swallow, he saw the guy/girl’s hand reach out for its flute of bubbly and miss. Only a quick grab saved the glass from tumbling over. Jake could almost feel how pissed the person was. The cap was ripped off by an impatient hand, letting a mane of shining, black, chin-length hair fall free. The creature looked around like it was searching for predators, then pulled off the huge black sunglasses.
Holy fucking Christ.
Gorgeous. He knew this was LA, the land of the genetic celebrities, but this was ridiculous.
Okay, Jake, you’re staring. He looked down into his martini and took another slug. But he had to look again.
Peeking up over the edge of his glasses, he watched the guy — it was a guy, he was pretty sure now — take a deep breath, like he was really relieved not to be flailing around in the dark. Cheekbones. That was what you saw first on that face. Architectural masterpieces with perfect hollows beneath. Shit, the guy was looking! Jake looked away fast but was pretty sure the guy had seen him staring. Now that was embarrassing, but he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just seen.
He took off his glasses, wiped them on a napkin to kill time, and then put them back on. He sneaked a peek back to find the guy looking down at his champagne, so Jake just stared. The guy was the most beautiful man — person…creature — he could ever remember seeing. Yeah, it was definitely a guy, even though the face was like some kind of idealized being, half female, half male. Large eyes rimmed with heavy lashes and the Angelina lips were offset by a clean, very male jaw and strong, arched brows. His hair looked black, although the candles on the bar picked up a little touch of red, and it was cut in a lazy European style that swept hair onto his forehead and shagged it around his face. As Jake watched, the man pushed his fingers into that hair, pulling it back off his luminous face for a moment, and then released it to fall again in idle perfection. The guy was young, probably younger than Jake.
There was just one problem. If this was a guy, why did Jake suddenly have less room in his suit pants?
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