Read Return of the Bad Girl Online
Authors: Codi Gary
Return of the Bad Girl (35 page)
He’s just a caller. Stop being a freak about it.
Besides, if he’d had romantic notions about her, he would probably have dropped a hint or two about meeting in person, especially after she started taking their calls off air when their conversations went on too long. But no, he’d never asked, and when she started getting angry waves from her producer and she’d have to go, he’d always just say,
“Have a nice day, Callie Jay.”
Unlike some of the other citizens of Rock Canyon, Idaho, he didn’t call up to bitch and moan about politics or what was wrong with modern country music. In fact, just yesterday, he’d called and brought up the fact that he loved October because it was when all the fall drinks and colors started showing up. She was more of a spring person, but when Dalton had made a coffee run this morning, the pumpkin-spiced latte she’d ordered had been in Rhett’s honor.
Suddenly, her cell started blaring “Wildflower” by the JaneDear Girls, and she silenced it quickly, picking it up with a hiss.
“I am not going, so stop calling.”
“Oh, come on, it will be fine!” Caroline Willis said. “You go to Buck’s and Hank’s, so what’s wrong with this?”
Callie shook her head. When Callie had met Caroline back in April, she had been drawn to the other woman because—for lack of a less “romantic” explanation—she’d sensed someone she could relate to. Someone who had her own demons and was fighting her own past, and she’d been right. Yet in all the time since and as the two of them grew closer, Caroline had never questioned Callie or asked about her past. She’d just taken her for who she was now.
Even though Callie loved her for trying to bring her “out of the army tank you’ve climbed into”—Caroline’s words, not hers—Callie had no desire to go to Caroline’s sister’s bachelorette party.
“I already agreed I would DJ the damn wedding, but I have no desire to go out with a group of obnoxious women and watch some greasy dudes gyrate to ‘It’s Raining Men,’ ” Callie said, catching Dave’s frown as he waved the phone at her, letting her know she had more requests waiting. “This whole thing can wait until I see you this afternoon, right?”
“Fine, but I’m not through with you! If you think I’m going to this thing with just my sisters and their crazy friends, you are dreaming!”
“Good-bye, Caroline.”
Dave held up his finger, and Callie picked up line one. “You’re on the Kat. What can I play for ya?”
“I was thinking a little Blake Shelton, actually,” a deep voice said. The caller’s smile was evident, even over the phone.
Rhett.
Turning off the “record” button, Callie tried to ignore the giddy butterflies fluttering through her stomach. “You’re late.”
“You noticed.”
“Well, you’ve been almost OCD about the time you call for seven months, so it’s a little hard not to.” Callie bit her lip to keep from smiling.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I overslept this morning. Can I just say I’m actually flattered? Were you counting down the minutes?”
Callie’s face burned, and even though he couldn’t see her, she rubbed her cheeks with one hand. “Actually, it’s just because you’re the only person who calls in with any taste.”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” she said, turning around in her chair so she couldn’t see Dave and her tech, Sam, making kissy faces at her. “Now, what Blake song do you want to hear?”
“Uh-oh, did I get you in trouble with the boss?”
“No, I just . . . There are just a lot of calls coming in, so I can’t talk as long.”
“I understand,” he said, and there was a pause on the line before he cleared his throat. “Maybe we could talk more later? Off air?”
Callie’s heart pounded. Was he asking for her number?
Real names and numbers made it real. What if he was dangerous? What if she gave him her number and he tracked her down—
“I’m going to take it from your silence that I freaked you out,” he said, breaking into her panicked thoughts. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
He hung up before she could say anything. Without his trademark farewell.
Way to go, you paranoid freak.
Callie didn’t think she was paranoid; she was cautious. Having your fiancé turn into a complete stranger—a violent stranger—six months before your wedding could do that to a person. Thinking of Tristan was painful, and she tried to push him from her mind. Tried to forget their past together. If she didn’t, the nightmares might start up again—and the urge to drink herself into a stupor along with it.
Just then, Dalton came walking in with Ratchet. The minute he let him off leash, the large dog lumbered over and lay his head in Callie’s lap, as if sensing her dark thoughts. Stroking his soft fur, she murmured softly to him until he sat down and eventually flopped to the floor.
“Callie, you’ve got callers holding,” Dave said over the intercom.
Pressing the button, she took the next call, but her thoughts were still on Rhett. Was she ready to let someone in and trust again?
She really wasn’t sure.
An obsessive bookworm,
CODI GARY
likes to write sexy small-town contemporary romances with humor, grand gestures, and blush-worthy moments. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading her favorite authors, squealing over her must-watch shows, and playing with her children. She lives in Idaho with her family.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
hc.com
.
Good Girls Don’t Date Rock Stars
“The Trouble with Sexy” in
Kiss Me: An Avon Books Valentine’s Day Anthology
Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at six brand-new
e-book original tales of romance from Avon Impulse.
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
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By Sophie Jordan
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By Charlotte Stein
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By Jennifer Ryan
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By Gwen Jones
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By Cynthia Sax
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By Candis Terry
An Excerpt from
A Debutante Files Christmas Novella
by Sophie Jordan
Feisty American heiress Violet Howard swears she’ll never wed a crusty British aristocrat. Will, the Earl of Moreton, is determined to salvage his family’s fortune without succumbing to a marriage of convenience. But when a snowstorm strands Violet and Will together, their sudden chemistry will challenge good intentions. They’re seized by a desire that burns through the night, but will their passion survive the storm? Will they realize they’ve found a love to last them through all seasons?
H
is eyes flashed, appearing darker in that moment, the blue as deep and stormy as the waters she had crossed to arrive in this country. “Who are you?”
“I’m a guest here.” She motioned in the direction of the house. “My name is V—”
“Are you indeed?” His expression altered then, sliding over her with something bordering belligerence. “No one mentioned that you were an American.”
Before she could process that statement—or why he should be told of anything—she felt a hot puff of breath on her neck.
The insolent man released a shout and lunged. Hard hands grabbed her shoulders. She resisted, struggling and twisting until they both lost their balance.
Then they were falling. She registered this with a sick sense of dread. He grunted, turning slightly so that he took the brunt of the fall. They landed with her body sprawled over his.
Her nose was practically buried in his chest.
A pleasant smelling chest
. She inhaled leather and horseflesh and the warm saltiness of male skin.
He released a small moan of pain. She lifted her face to observe his grimace and felt a stab of worry. Absolutely misplaced considering this situation was his fault, but there it was nonetheless. “Are you hurt?”
“Crippled. But alive.”
Scowling, she tried to clamber off him, but his hands shot up and seized her arms, holding fast.
“Unhand me! Serves you right if you are hurt. Why did you accost me?”
“Devil was about to take a chunk from that lovely neck of yours.”
Lovely?
He thinks she is lovely? Or rather her neck is lovely? This bold specimen of a man in front of her, who looks as though he has stepped from the pages of a Radcliffe novel, thinks that plain, in-between Violet is lovely.
She shook off the distracting thought. Virile stable hands like him did not look twice at females like her. No. Scholarly bookish types with kind eyes and soft smiles looked at her. Men such as Mr. Weston who saw beyond a woman’s face and other physical attributes.
“I am certain you overreacted.”
He snorted.
She arched, jerking away from him, but still he did not budge. His hands tightened around her. She glared down at him, feeling utterly discombobulated. There was so
much
of him—all hard male and it was pressed against her in a way that was entirely inappropriate and did strange, fluttery things to her stomach. “Are you planning to let me up any time soon?”
His gaze crawled over her face. “Perhaps I’ll stay like this forever. I rather like the feel of you on top of me.”
She gasped.
He grinned then and that smile stole her breath and made all her intimate parts heat and loosen to the consistency of pudding. His teeth were blinding white and straight set against features that were young and strong and much too handsome. And there were his eyes. So bright a blue their brilliance was no less powerful in the dimness of the stables.
Was this how girls lost their virtue? She’d heard the stories and always thought them weak and addle-headed creatures. How did a sensible female of good family cast aside all sense and thought to propriety?
His voice rumbled out from his chest, vibrating against her own body, shooting sensation along every nerve, driving home the realization that she wore nothing beyond her cloak and night rail. No corset. No chemise. Her breasts rose on a deep inhale. They felt tight and aching. Her skin felt like it was suddenly stretched too thin over her bones. “You are not precisely what I expected.”
His words sank in, penetrating through the fog swirling around her mind. Why would he expect anything from her? He did not know her.
His gaze traveled her face and she felt it like a touch—a caress. “I shall have to pay closer attention to my mother when she says she’s found someone for me to wed.”
Violet’s gaze shot up from the mesmerizing movement of his lips to his eyes. “Your
mother?
”
He nodded. “Indeed. Lady Merlton.”
“Are you . . .” she choked on halting words.
He couldn’t be
. “You’re the—”
“The Earl of Merlton,” he finished, that smile back again, wrapping around the words as though he was supremely amused. As though she were the butt of some grand jest. He was the Earl of Merlton, and she was the heiress brought here to tempt him.
A jest indeed. It was laughable. Especially considering the way he looked. Temptation incarnate. She was not the sort of female to tempt a man like him. At least not without a dowry, and that’s what her mother was relying upon.
“And you’re the heiress I’ve been avoiding,” he finished.
If the earth opened up to swallow her in that moment, she would have gladly surrendered to its depths.
An Excerpt from
An Under the Skin Novel
by Charlotte Stein
I believed I would never be able to trust any man again. I thought so with every fiber of my being—and then I met Noah Gideon Grant. Everyone says he’s dangerous. But the thing is . . . I think something happened to him too. I know the chemistry between us isn’t just in my head. I know he feels it, but he’s holding back. He’s made a labyrinth of himself. Now all I need to do is dare to find my way through.