Полная версия
Simply Sinful
Rave reviews for the novels of
Carly Phillips
CROSS MY HEART
“Who doesn’t love a reunion of long-lost loves? Add a diabolical villain, as Carly Phillips does, and you have everything you need for a beach read.”
—Columbus Dispatch
“Smart, engrossing and totally addictive! Cross My Heart is a definite must-have in this season’s beach bag.”
—www.FreshFiction.com
SUMMER LOVIN’
“Phillips’s light touch assures a happy ending to this diverting beach read.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A funny and touching family drama.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“A fun, yet emotional story. A story that will keep you hooked with its kooky, yet charming characters.”
—Romance Reviews Today
What’s steamier than a New York City summer? Carly Phillips’s Hot series!
HOT ITEM
“Saving her best for last, Phillips wraps up her jocular Hot Zone trilogy….”
—Publishers Weekly
“Phillips has penned a charming, fast-paced contemporary romp-through-the-sheets.”
—Booklist
“Hot Item is a winner.”
—Romance Reviews Today
HOT NUMBER
“A veteran romance author who climbed to star status in Harlequin’s Temptation line, Phillips is certain to capture a new bank of fans with the fresh venue and stylish dialogue featured in this perky series.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Hot Number is a fun, sexy read. For everyone who has ever wished to turn the head of a guy, this book definitely allows you that fantasy while giving you a satisfying love story. Ms. Phillips has proven herself more than capable of delivering stories that touch your heart and your funnybone.”
—In the Library Reviews
“In the follow-up to last year’s Hot Stuff, Phillips once again dives into the high pressure world of sports. Micki and Damian each have quite a few issues to resolve, which adds spice to an already volatile mixture.”
—Jill M. Smith, Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)
“Carly Phillips hits a home run with the fun, yet touching Hot Number.”
—Jennifer Bishop, Romance Reviews Today
HOT STUFF
“This breezy book will likely score a touchdown with readers looking for sexy thrills and instant gratification.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This first book in The Hot Zone trilogy shines with Phillips’ trademark sizzle and sensuality. She delivers strong, appealing characters while exploring the dynamics of families—what brings them together and what draws them apart. The ending emotionally satisfies and gives readers a tantalizing peek at the romantic quandaries awaiting the rest of the family.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)
“Hot Stuff is a surefire hit.”
—Jennifer Bishop, Romance Reviews Today
Carly Phillips
Simply Sinful
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
LET HER BE CHARMED! Step inside and be transformed.
Kane McDermott peered through the space between the closed curtains in the brownstone’s window. He got a brief glimpse of chin-length blond hair and a body with enough curves to make a centerfold jealous. It was a cold autumn day but the unexpected jolt of desire kicked in fast, warming him from within.
If he had to wine, dine and proposition her at least he wouldn’t be bored. But he still resented the hell out of this assignment. Coming off a tough case, his superior thought he needed a rest. Captain Reid hadn’t used the words burned out, but Kane heard them in the lectures anyway. He disagreed. Just because a drug bust had gone down wrong didn’t mean he needed R&R. Having grown up on the Boston streets, he knew better than anyone when he was in danger of losing his edge. Now wasn’t it.
He could wish to hell and back the wrong kid hadn’t gotten hit in the crossfire but it wouldn’t change the fact that he had. It wasn’t Kane’s bullet. The kid got taken down by his own brother. Logically, Kane knew it wasn’t his fault, but that didn’t lessen Kane’s sense of guilt. Nor his remorse. Though no one could have anticipated the arrival of the dealer’s little brother, Kane would live with the mother’s screams for the rest of his life. He’d refused time off—he knew it wouldn’t help him forget—so the captain figured Kane might as well pretend he’d taken leave.
Any rookie could verify whether Charmed! was a legitimate etiquette school for men or a front for a prostitution ring. Kane groaned aloud. As far as he was concerned, any guy who needed lessons in dating etiquette was as pathetic as this fluff assignment. What the hell kind of dork needed charm school to make headway with a woman? Especially one that looked like her.
He shook his head. What a waste. Then again, giving lessons to geeks was preferable to any other kind of service she might be performing for her paying customers. Considering she’d worked for her late aunt and uncle when they’d held the reins, she definitely knew the score. Whatever that was.
He might not know her agenda, but he knew his own—and this ridiculous case wasn’t it. He’d pulled serious undercover work with drug dealers and pimps, yet here he was gearing up to make his awkward pitch to Charmed!’s sexy owner. He still had his doubts he could pull off the geek act and had a contingency plan in case he blundered. He wouldn’t know until he got inside.
He placed his hand on the doorknob. The metal was ice-cold from the cool spring air. Was she or wasn’t she? It was time to find out.
KAYLA LUCK threw a disgusted glance at the old heater, which refused to cooperate with reasoning or common sense. Heat was unnecessary in the spring but the cleaning crew seemed to have forgotten. They’d turned the heater up last night and turned the brownstone into a sauna. Kayla had finally gotten the dial to move, but the darn thing continued to pump heat. Between the rising temperature and the effort she’d exerted trying to fix it, she was hot and uncomfortable. Definitely not the way to begin a new class, so she hoped all the men received the cancellation message.
Unable to take the layers sticking to her skin, she peeled off her jacket, leaving herself dressed in a silk shell and trousers. When that didn’t help, she pulled at the light camisole that stuck to her skin. With a frustrated sigh, she glanced upward, at the bi-level unit she’d inherited along with the business.
While her sister Catherine’s share of the inheritance had enabled her to fulfill her dream of going to culinary school, Kayla had put off her own dreams in favor of running the business and bringing in income. The old brownstone was quaint, offering two levels and too many rooms. For years, her aunt had run an old-fashioned service offering ballroom dancing and dating etiquette. There was a time when those kinds of services had been in demand, but the last decade had seen a steady decline in business. Kayla had hoped to guide her aunt and help bring things out of the stone age. Her aunt had remarried last year and brought her new husband into the business. Kayla hadn’t had a chance to broach the newlyweds about business changes. Her aunt and new uncle had died too soon.
Kayla intended to carry on anyway. Men today didn’t need dating lessons but many executives required instruction on how to conduct themselves in social settings and learning foreign customs when entertaining international guests. With her language skills, she could add a modern dimension to an old-fashioned business. Ordering off foreign menus would no longer be a challenge for the American executive or traveler. And thanks to her well-targeted advertising, she’d just begun getting calls from the larger downtown corporations with offices overseas.
A far cry from the old-world charm school Charmed! had once been. Instead of giving class to the heathens as her aunt had been fond of saying, Charmed! would offer a broader, more modern range of services. When she’d inherited the school, the irony wasn’t lost on Kayla. The class bimbo with the classless mother, giving charm lessons. The memories still hurt and gave her an even stronger incentive to upgrade and modernize Charmed! until it no longer resembled its roots.
Much as Kayla had done for herself. She’d grown up on the poor side of town in an otherwise well-to-do area outside of Boston. While the other kids always seemed to sport designer labels and the latest fashions, she and her sister had worn their clothes until they were threadbare. Problem was, Kayla’s figure had developed early and her clothes never fit properly. The girls thought her a joke and the boys figured if she dressed in tight clothes, she wanted to be noticed. By the time she hit high school, there wasn’t a guy who didn’t claim he’d gotten lucky. She’d buried herself in her books and told no one except her sister the truth. No one else would have believed her if she had.
Despite the heat, she shivered at the painful memories, then forced them aside. Those days were behind her and Charmed! wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a dating school for the awkward man. Not anymore. It was a legitimate business meeting legitimate needs. She wasn’t thrilled with delaying her life, or putting off going back to school to obtain her language degrees. She’d even toyed with the idea of becoming an interpreter, but not at the expense of family. Charmed! was a family business and family was one of the few things Kayla and Catherine held sacred. Antiquated or not, neither she nor her sister had been ready to part with the school. Her aunt’s sudden death two months earlier was too fresh and raw.
She grabbed for her pad and pen. The repairman still hadn’t returned her call and she made a note to nudge him every half hour. She had a head for numbers, and the ability to memorize whole passages of books at a glance, but if she didn’t record the little details in life, nothing got done.
Her projections indicated Charmed! would see a large profit next year and she’d be able to stop renting the mirrored dance room out to exercise classes. She walked back to the storage room. With classes canceled, she could use the free time to begin going through her late aunt and uncle’s books. But first she needed fresh air. She walked into the outer room, intending to open the doors and windows. Without warning, the chimes signaled that an unexpected visitor had entered. She glanced up and nearly tripped midstride.
She’d heard the expression sucker-punched before, but Kayla thought she and her wary heart were immune. Her visitor made her rethink that notion.
From his wing-tip shoes to his tawny and immaculately groomed hair, the man emanated strength and power cloaked in a double-breasted suit. Her breath caught in her chest. She was grateful she had been too hot and uncomfortable to eat because her stomach lurched in an unfamiliar combination of excitement, trepidation and awe. Heat settled over her in a huge wave that had nothing to do with the broken unit in the back.
She’d wanted to cool off? Not even the spring breeze blowing in behind him would cause her blood to chill now. At a professional glance he looked every inch the executive she wanted to target with her new business angle. From a personal standpoint, he set her body tingling with one long glance. “Can I help you?” she asked.
He nodded and offered an awkward smile. “Charmed?” He held out his hand, then seemed to reconsider, then changed his mind again and shoved his hand forward, nearly hitting her in the chest.
She tipped her head to the side, stunned by his awkward manner. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
He laughed aloud, a sexy rumbling sound that vibrated inside her. A confident sound at odds with the inept handshake he’d offered. “No, I meant the sign outside said Charmed! so I assume I have the right place.” The voice was every bit as sexy as the man.
A renewed surge of warmth trickled through her veins, slow and easy, like warm molasses. She liked the feeling. “That you do. I’m Kayla Luck, the owner.” She shook his outstretched hand.
His touch was strong and self-assured, so unlike the weak handshake of the men she’d met at the accounting firm where she used to work.
“Glad to meet you, Ms. Luck.” Without warning, he began pumping her hand too eagerly. “Or is it Mrs.?” He paused a beat. “I really should have asked, I mean I have no right to jump to conclusions and insult a lady…”
Unable to comprehend his sudden rambling, she interrupted him. “It’s Ms. or Miss. Your choice. Personally I was never into feminist lingo.” She eased her hand out of his grip before he yanked her arm out of its socket. The rough edges of his skin brushed against hers. Despite all logic, she enjoyed the lingering caress.
“No Mrs.,” he mused. “Must be my ‘lucky’ day.” He shook his head and laughed. “That was pathetic. You must hear jokes like that all the time.”
“Too often. What can I…” Kayla caught her slip. “I mean what can Charmed! do for you, Mr….?”
“McDermott. Kane McDermott.”
“Are you here for the wine-tasting class, Mr. McDermott? Because it’s been canceled.”
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “I can see why. It’s a damn furnace in here.”
“Actually it is the furnace.”
“Which explains why you’ve stripped for summer before the start of the season.” All traces of awkwardness gone, his smoky gaze fell on the silk shell that clung to her skin.
Embarrassment nearly suffocated her. She started to cross her arms and stopped, realizing she’d made a bad situation worse. She recognized the bold admiration in his chiseled features, the frank appraisal common to most men she’d come in contact with. Throughout her twenty-five years, she’d grown to both know and hate that stark, assessing look. Yet somehow, with his velvet stare boring into hers, she couldn’t take offense.
Even so she couldn’t possibly be interested in a stranger with too many inconsistencies in his character. Awkward one minute, self-assured the next, Kayla couldn’t help but wonder who he was.
And what he wanted.
She darted a glance across the room. He might have been prepared to walk into a photo shoot instead of her place of business. His blond-streaked hair had been slicked back, the bottom curling around his collar as if fighting the stiff hold he’d tried to maintain. The cut was longer than most nine-to-fivers preferred and added a dangerous edge to his appearance. The hard look in his eyes seemed to verify that impression. The perfectly sculpted features were at odds with the man inside. Mr. Kane McDermott had been around life’s many corners more than a few times.
He wasn’t the ordinary man who frequented her aunt and uncle’s establishment. Her establishment, she reminded herself. The man was a paying customer, and that meant she had to quit dissecting him and get down to business.
“Can I get you a cold drink?” she asked.
He leaned against the wall, one shoulder propped against the scarred wooden paneling. His potent gaze never strayed from hers. “How about I buy you a drink?” he asked in that seductive voice. “I mean…oh, hell. I can’t pull this off.”
“Pull what off? What’s going on?”
“I can’t pretend I’m a geek in need of training.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You think that’s the services we offer?”
“Let her be Charmed!?” he asked, repeating her aunt’s company slogan. “It was on the pamphlet my friend gave me.”
“I see. Well, we’ve advanced beyond those days. Not that we can’t offer basic etiquette lessons if you need them, but…What do you mean you can’t pull this off? That you can’t pretend you’re a geek in need of training?” she asked warily, steering the conversation back to her main concern. It wasn’t like her to be sidetracked by a good-looking man—which made this one all the more dangerous.
“A friend of mine sent me here. He attended one of your dance classes last year. Your name is too unique for me to be mistaken.”
She narrowed her gaze. “What’s your friend’s name?” Kayla asked.
“John Fredericks. Says he nearly flunked out of Ballroom Dancing.”
She rolled her eyes, remembering the lessons her aunt had insisted Charmed! offer. Kayla never did understand how they filled a class. “That’s because he had two left feet and was preoccupied with landing a date for New Year’s Eve.” She couldn’t see the good-natured but shy man as a friend of Kane McDermott’s, but apparently appearances were deceiving. If John and Kane were friends, Kane had just handed her a reference she could trust. “How is he?” she asked.
“His company sent him overseas. He said to ask your aunt for tips on dating French women,” Kane said with a grin. “For the next time he calls.”
Kayla felt a pang of regret. “She’d have been glad to give him advice. She liked John, too.”
“What happened?” Kane asked.
“She and my uncle were killed a few months ago.”
“Together?”
“Yes.” Tears stung behind her eyes, as they did each time she thought of the accident and the aunt with whom she’d had so much in common. They shared an above-average IQ as well as a special relationship, due in large part to the fact that her aunt understood the oddity of being too smart.
She shook off the memories and focused on her visitor. “The police said they skidded in the rain and hit a tree.”
“I’m sorry, that must have been rough…losing both of them at once.”
“I didn’t know my uncle well. They’d only been married a little over a year, but at least he made her happy before she—” Kayla stopped, realizing she was confiding in a total stranger.
“I’m sorry.” He paused. “John will be sorry, too.”
“Thank you.” She lowered her gaze before meeting his stare once more. “But my aunt being gone doesn’t change the facts.”
“Which are?”
“You came in here pretending to be something you’re not.”
He flinched. “And that was wrong. But John…he thought we’d hit it off.” He glanced down at his hands.
“Why didn’t you just say that when you came in?”
“Because you can’t trust someone else’s opinion. Hell, that’s like accepting a blind date. So I…came in here to check you out,” he admitted sheepishly.
“John must have told you about me a long time ago,” she said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because Charmed! rarely offers classes for the dating impaired anymore and neither does our brochure. We concentrate more on the international business arena now.”
He had the grace and manners to look embarrassed. “I knew the minute I walked in here I couldn’t pull it off,” he muttered.
“So you said.” Kayla narrowed her gaze. “Why is that?” she asked, hoping that her cup size had less to do with his answer than the chemistry. She was attracted to his looks, but a lot of good-looking men existed in the world. This one affected her on a deeper level.
“You’re even more beautiful than I’d hoped.”
A little too smooth, she thought with chagrin. So much for her futile hope he’d be special.
“But beyond that if you actually teach all these classes, there’s a wealth of knowledge in there and, I’m not ashamed to admit, smart women turn me on,” he said with a boyish grin.
Despite herself, she laughed at his obvious attempt at humor.
“Does this mean you’ll go out with me?” he asked.
Oh, how she wanted to, but dating a stranger wasn’t a smart move. She glanced at his determined gaze and doubted he’d take a straight no for an answer. “I wish I could, but I have to be here for the repairman.” She forced a regretful smile and squelched the female buried inside her who wanted to accept his invitation.
He unbuttoned his suit and slipped the jacket off his broad shoulders before flinging it onto the nearest chair. “It was that or be roasted alive.” He turned back to her. “Now where were we? Oh, yes…you going out with me.”
She opened her mouth to insist she’d made her final decision when the phone rang. She picked it up, grateful to discover on the other end the plumber returning her call. Gratitude quickly turned to dismay. She placed the receiver back on the cradle.
Kane raised his dark eyebrows. “Problem?”
She nodded. “The repairman. He’ll be here. Tomorrow. He hopes.” She plucked at her damp shirt.
“Well then.” He started to unbutton the cuff on his shirt. “We’d better get to work.”
“We?” she asked.
“You and me. I don’t see anyone else volunteering.” His gaze darted around the room. “Do you?”
“No, but…are you a plumber?”
“No, ma’am. But living in an old apartment, I’ve seen my share of broken heaters. So let’s get going.” With a flip of his wrist, he began rolling up his sleeve. When the first one was finished, he began on the second, revealing muscular forearms and bronze skin. With her fair complexion, she always admired deep-olive skin, but his coloring had little to do with the pulse-pounding adrenaline flowing through her system.
It was one thing to sense this man’s strength, another to witness the physical evidence of it firsthand. Kayla’s mouth grew dry and she grabbed for the bottled water sitting on her desk. She wet her parched lips before attempting to speak. “Wrench?”
“What?”
She plucked up the tool she’d deposited on her desk earlier. “I asked if you needed a wrench. To shut off the heat.”
“Take it along and we’ll see.”
She followed him into the back room. He knelt down to examine what she considered a foreign piece of equipment.
“The temperature’s already turned down,” he said.
“The cleaning crew must have turned it on by mistake. It was near ninety when I got here. I got the dial turned down but the heat didn’t follow.”
“It probably needs to hit its peak before it’ll start coming down.”
“You mean it’s going to get hotter?” she asked, fingering the damp bangs that stuck to her forehead.
“Count on it.” His searing gaze zeroed in on hers and the heat in the room seemed to soar. No man had ever had such a heart-stopping effect on her before. Drawing a deep breath, she wondered how to handle such raw masculinity. She’d made too many mistakes to mess up again.
He cleared his throat. “There’s another choice. We can hit the emergency switch and hope we don’t blow the unit in the process.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. Can’t afford that kind of repair.”
“Then you have no choice but to let it run its course. In the meantime, do you have a bucket?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact…” She retrieved the pail her aunt had used to store cleaning supplies. “Here.” She offered it and he grabbed the handle.
“What about a skate key?” he asked.
She blinked at the strange question. “A what?”
He chuckled. “Never mind.” He reached around and patted the floor surrounding the heater. “Aha.” He held a small rounded key aloft. Triumph lit eyes that she now realized were stunning—an aqua mix that emphasized more blue than green and turned her already mixed up insides to pure mush.
She glanced at his find. “Let me guess. A skate key?”
“Sort of. Most of these old units need to be bled at the start of every season, sometimes more often. People familiar with them leave the key in a place they won’t forget. Otherwise you have to go running and hope you can find…”
“The nearest skater?” she asked wryly.
“She’d do in a pinch…if she looked like you.”
A burning flush heated her cheeks. Thanks to her fair skin she probably resembled a tomato by now. “Look, Mr. McDermott, I appreciate your help, but you don’t have to flatter me.”
