Perfect Chemistry (12 page)
Authors: Jodi Redford
Copyright © 2014
Jodi Redford
Lexie Winters is on a mission—to lose her good girl image and tempt resident bad boy, Ash Bodry, into her bed. Tired of being treated like his kid sister, it’s past time for her to play dirty. She has her work cut out for her though when it comes to the sinfully sexy yet incredibly frustrating man.
As far as Ash is concerned, Lexie is strictly off limits. Not only are they friends, her dad just happens to be the sheriff, and years ago the man steered Ash away from a life of crime. No way is he repaying that favor by giving into his wicked fantasies of Lexie. But when the little vixen strolls into his tattoo parlor and requests a very naughty piercing, Ash’s honorable intentions are tested to their limits.
Now that Lexie’s hammered the first chink in Ash’s defenses, and he’s sweating bullets, there’s no chance in hell she’s settling for his hands off policy. Even if it means some flirty strip tease action and late night skinny dipping to convince him that this newfound naughty girl will do whatever it takes to get her man.
http://www.amazon.com/Naughty-Girls-Do-BOOM-Story-ebook/dp/B00KOFZG1E
Please enjoy the following excerpt:
A massive case of jittery nerves twisting her stomach into a knot, Lexie Winters hesitated outside the entrance to Shores Ink. Tearing her focus from the intricate black and white tribal graphic stenciled on the door, she gave her best friend and co-conspirator, Grace Jennings, a panicked look. “Why can’t I just get a tattoo?” Granted, she’d have to get it somewhere discreet. She didn’t want to completely scandalize her coworkers at the library. Of course, not much chance of that not happening if it ever leaked out what she was intending to get done at Ash Bodry’s tattoo parlor.
Grace indulged in a long-suffering sigh. “We’ve already discussed this. A tattoo won’t get Ash’s attention.”
“What if I get it on my butt? Or boob?”
“
Puh-lease
.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine the amount of asses and boobs Ash likely sees on a daily basis? Not gonna impress him.”
Grimacing, Lexie readjusted her tortoise frame lenses before inspecting her cleavage. “I’ve never gotten any complaints about the girls before.”
“Of course you haven’t. They’re the freaking Eighth Wonder of the World.” Grace gestured to the front of Lexie’s pink halter-top. “I wasn’t referring so much to your attributes as the tattoo in general. If you’re going to prove to Ash that you’re not a goody two shoes, you’re going to have to pull out all the stops. No relying on the miracle twins there to get the job done, Toots.”
Lexie swallowed hard. “I don’t know—”
“Yes, you do. Now pull up your big girl panties and get your ass in there, Wussarella.”
With that encouraging endearment ringing in her ears, Lexie sucked in a deep breath and ducked through the doorway. Heavy metal music drifted from the central sound system, its bass-loaded beat vibrating the floor and amping the nervous tension prickling beneath her skin. It wasn’t the first time she’d stepped inside Ash’s shop. God knows she’d invented plenty of excuses for dropping by over the years. Still, the pretense of bringing him lunch was far less stress inducing than her present plan.
Stalling, she deliberately dragged her feet, feigning a renewed interest in the photos grouped on the nearest wall. The images depicted various shots of Ash’s one of a kind custom ink designs. She leaned in for a closer scrutiny of her favorite out of the bunch—a gorgeously detailed mermaid. Each scale appeared so vividly real, she swore the mythical creature would leap to life with the tiniest flick of its jewel-toned tail. Lexie chewed her bottom lip.
Maybe...
A loud rap rattled the front door, and Lexie instinctively jumped. Heart knocking in triple time, she tossed a guilty look toward the entrance. Sure enough, Grace was giving her the stink eye. Gusting a resigned exhalation, Lexie abandoned her post in front of the tattoo gallery and approached the unmanned appointment desk. Dalton—Ash’s assistant—was nowhere to be seen. Thank God for small favors. Because the less witnesses she had for this, the better.
She rounded the corner of the studio, and struggled to kill her lusty sigh as she took in her first Ash sighting of the day. A bounty of muscles flexing in his colorfully inked shoulders and upper arms, he hefted from his seat and leaned over the sketch pad propped open on his work station, his strong, masculine features set in fierce concentration. Dark eyebrows slashing low toward the bridge of his nose, he switched out his blue pen for a red one and continued free handing his creation on the paper. Taking advantage of his complete absorption with his task, Lexie drank up every ounce of his gorgeous perfection.
No, perfection wasn’t the right word when describing Ash Bodry. He was no pretty boy, by any means. His nose bore a slightly off kilter slant thanks to participating in one too many brawls back in the day, and the faint remnant of a scar still christened the spot above his biceps where he’d been stabbed in a knife fight. For some women, those lingering battle wounds of his past might have been a turn off. Then of course there were the braver, wilder girls who were drawn to Ash’s not-entirely-redeemed bad boy side. In Lexie’s case, her feelings for him ran more than skin deep.
She was one hundred percent hopelessly in love with Ash. Had been for nearly twelve years, ever since the fateful day her dad busted Ash in the act of hotwiring the mayor’s pristine ’68 Corvette Stingray. Rather than pushing to have Ash thrown in juvie, her dad had volunteered to personally oversee Ash’s probation. As the sheriff of a small lakeside community that quadrupled in residency
and
potential crime rate during peak summer season, taking on the role of Ash’s sponsor had been no small commitment on her dad’s part. But he’d set Ash on the—mostly—straight and narrow, and in the process inadvertently sealed Lexie’s lovelorn plight by arranging for Ash to help her that entire summer at her grandpa’s campground. Despite Ash having two years on her in age—and an infinitely higher amount of years on her when it came to street smarts—they’d formed a close bond that’d remained unshakable throughout the years.
Sending up a silent prayer that she wasn’t about to destroy that record, she steeled her spine and took a tentative step forward.
Copyright © 2014
Jodi Redford
Valentine’s Day—the bane of Rory Sinclair’s existence. Hard to forgive the one holiday responsible for the single most moronic decision of her life. If it was up to her, she’d skip anything to do with cupid, but with her business partner home sick with the flu, she’s stuck delivering a bunch of cookie bouquets to a local firehouse. Who knows, maybe she’ll cure her Valentine’s Day neurosis and heat up the mattress with a hunky firefighter. Her plan of donning some edible undies and getting her freak on goes up in flames though the instant she steps through the doors of Station 5 and spots Bennet Jackson—the man responsible for her decade long Valentine’s Day boycott.
No matter how hard he’s tried, Ben has never gotten over the innocent girl he foolishly let slip between his fingers. When Rory unexpectedly crashes back into his world, he figures it’s his only shot at righting the wrongs of his past and getting her back in his bed and his life. For good. Unfortunately, she has other plans. Ones that don’t include him. He’s well aware that she has every reason to despise him, but if there’s one thing he’s up for, it’s a challenge. Because there’s no way in hell he’s losing the woman of his dreams again. And this time he’s prepared to pull out every dirty, sexy, and hotter-than-sin trick to convince her to stay.
http://www.amazon.com/Sweet-Sizzle-Red-Valentine-Story-ebook/dp/B00HVJN8PM
Please enjoy the following excerpt:
She yanked on her favorite apron and grabbed the large canister of flour. Her only hope of burning off this excess energy was by losing herself in some serious baking. Lord knows she wasn’t a culinary genius like Hailey, but butterscotch scones were more than doable and their clients adored them. She fetched the remaining ingredients and lined them up on the prep station. Flour got tossed into the mixing bowl, along with baking powder and salt. Next came butter, properly chilled to provide that perfect golden flakiness. Milk, egg, and last but not least, those delicious butterscotch chips. Combine everything, scoop onto cookie sheet, and boom! —Ready for the oven.
She set the timer and tidied her work station. Still restless after that task was done, she pulled out the giant file folder of dessert recipes and aimlessly rifled through the glossy pages, trying to decide which of the delicacies she stood less chance of screwing up. She settled on a tropical fruit tart just as the entrance bell chimed. Blowing a loose strand of hair away from her eye, she glanced toward the clock again. Two minutes until closing. Always the way. Oh well, not like she had a hot date to rush off to or anything.
And therein lies your problem, you nincompoop. What happened to your bold pronouncement of rewriting Valentine’s Day with some headboard shaking smexin’ action?
Instead, here she was, taking out her frustration with baked goods. Snuffing a sigh, she brushed her hands on the skirt of her apron, doing her best to banish the remaining traces of flour dusting her skin. She stepped through the doorway, and resisted the urge to do an about-face when she spotted Bennet standing in the middle of the room, looking devastatingly gorgeous in a navy sport coat and khakis. Pulse thumping in double time, she took in the bouquet of roses and the suspicious heart-shaped box he held. “What do you think you’re doing?” She wasn’t entirely surprised at him showing up. She knew damn well how persistent Ben could be when he wanted something badly enough.
Too bad he hadn’t wanted her that much ten years ago. He wouldn’t have to resort to overpriced flowers and chocolate.
“I couldn’t let it end like that between us, Ro. I’m not giving up on you so easily.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“Wrong. When it comes to you, there’s no such thing. I’ll wait forever for you if that’s what it takes.”
An undesired sting pricked at her eyelids. Damn it, she wouldn’t cry. It didn’t matter if the tears were ones of anger and frustration. She’d shed every kind imaginable over Ben. No more.
He closed the distance between them. A familiar sweet essence drifted to her nose, and she dropped her focus to the cellophane-wrapped flowers. Tucked amongst the red roses were dainty cotton candy pink freesia. She blinked, her vision blurring. The lump in her throat was almost worse than the threat of tears. Crying was a form of release, at least. This heaviness paralyzing her vocal chords was a mute bully gleefully suffocating her with her own emotions.
So he’d remembered about the freesia. It meant nothing. And it sure as hell didn’t make up for the endless hurt he’d put her through. She jerked her gaze back to his. “I want you to leave, Ben. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”
He shook his head. “You’re here.”
“I was speaking metaphorically. And besides, technically I’m not going to be around much longer anyway. I was about to close up shop before you came in.”
“It doesn’t smell like it to me.”
Damn those butterscotch scones for ratting her out. “This is a bakery. It always smells like that.”
“Nope. There’s something in the oven. I’d stake twenty bucks on it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “Don’t suppose you’d mind me going and checking it out first hand then, would ya?” Before she could respond, he sidled past her and strode into the kitchen.
Closing her eyes, she sucked in a steadying breath and counted to ten. By eight it was pretty freakin’ clear her patience had decided to skip out for the night. Grinding her molars, she followed after Bennet. She found him hunched in front of the oven, door wide open while he appreciatively whiffed at the scones inside.
“Damn it, shut that door.”
He did as directed, his teeth a bright flash of white highlighting his obnoxious grin. “Looks like someone owes me twenty bucks.”
“I never said I’d take your bet, smart ass.”
He rose to his feet and settled the flowers and chocolate on the prep station. “Admit it, Ro. You had no intention of seeing someone else tonight.”
“No, I did. I mean I
do
. Once those scones are finished, I’m going to meet my date for dinner.” Praying Ben would buy that load of bull, she crossed her fingers behind her back.
“Uh huh.” He took a step closer; forcing her to angle her head back enough to meet his gaze full on. “I guaran-damn-tee ya
he’d
be a waste of your time. Because no way in hell he feels a fraction of what I do for you.”
The persuasion in his whiskey baritone combined with the softness in his eyes provided a double whammy in the battle against her defenses. He was giving her no choice but to play dirty. Gripping the edge of the worktable behind her, she steeled herself and blurted out the biggest lie she’d ever uttered. “I feel nothing for you, Ben. Now please leave.”
Rather than slink out of the kitchen like she’d vainly hoped he would, Ben leaned closer, boxing her against the table. “You were never good at lying, Ro. Even if I didn’t have proof from your response to me earlier when I kissed the daylights out of you at the station, there’s still the small fact that your pretty nipples are waving a salute at me right now.”
She didn’t need to look down to verify he was telling the truth. The traitorous offenders had pebbled into hard peaks the moment he’d invaded her personal space. Every breath she dragged in came with the excruciating side effect of rubbing the lace of her bra against her sensitized flesh. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“No?” He slid his hands around her waist and coasted them upward until he came to her breasts. Stalling there, he lazily grazed his knuckles back and forth, following the underside of her bra. “I’ll make you a deal. Allow me one kiss. If you still think it means nothing, I’ll leave. For good.”
Oh God. What hope did she have of pretending he left her unaffected if she went along with this? She probably had better odds of hitting the lottery and getting struck by lightning. Simultaneously. But what choice did she have? It was either agree to his insane proposal or spend the rest of the night arguing with him.
Just one kiss. Surely she had enough willpower not to get carried away. The butterflies in her stomach laughing uproariously at that delusional statement, she acquiesced with a resigned nod. “I have your word you’ll leave when I win this bet?”
The confident set of his jaw spoke volumes regarding his faith in being the victor in this round. “Absolutely.”
“Fine. Then give it your best shot, Casanova.” Oh Lord. Why did she tack on that provocation? She might as well wave a red flag at a bull and charge the beast head on. Ben’s nostrils flared, adding to the overall impression. Half certain he was about to paw the floor with his wingtips, she waited for the inevitable pounce. He surprised her by moving in slowly, his hands roving outward along the swells of her breasts. He inched infinitesimally closer, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from hers. She stared into his eyes, her heart drumming. Time stretched into an eternity. The intimacy of their almost kiss straddled the line of unbearable. He was teasing her. Making her long for that first taste. She licked her lips and watched the responding flare of heat in his irises.
But still the tormenting son of a bitch refused to make the next move. Growling under her breath, she gripped the lapels of his jacket. “Kiss me, damn it.”
His mouth crooked into a half smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”