Sweet as Sin
Sweet As Sin
By Inez Kelley
John Murphy is tormented by nightmares. A bestselling young-adult author, he writes the ultimate fantasy: stories where good always triumphs. He knows better. His past has shown him the worst in people—and in himself. When he moves next door to the sexy, vibrant Livvy—a woman completely unlike his usual one-night stands—he’s driven to explore every curve of her delicious body.
Pastry chef Livvy knows that giving in to the temptation that is John Murphy won’t lead to anything permanent, but she deserves a passionate summer fling. John discovers she’s as sweet as the confections she bakes while Livvy slowly
unravels his secrets. But what will happen when she uncovers them all?
Dear Reader,
A new year always brings with it a sense of expectation and promise (and maybe a vague sense of guilt). Expectation because we don’t know what the year will bring exactly, but promise because we always hope it will be good things. The guilt is due to all of the New Year’s resolutions we make with such good intentions.
This year, Carina Press is making a New Year’s resolution we know we won’t have any reason to feel guilty about: we’re going to bring our readers a year of fantastic editorial and diverse genre content. So far, our plans for 2011 include staff and author appearances at reader-focused
conferences such as the RT Booklovers
Convention in April, where we’ll be offering up goodies, appearing on panels, giving workshops and hosting a few fun activities for readers. We’re also cooking up several genre-specific release weeks, during which we’ll highlight individual genres. So far we have plans for steampunk week and unusual fantasy week. Readers will have access to free reads, discounts, contests and more as part of our week-long promotions!
But even when we’re not doing special
promotions, we’re still offering something special to our readers in the form of the stories authors are Inez Kelley
3
delivering to Carina Press that we’re passing on to you. From sweet romance to sexy, and military science fiction to fairy-tale fantasy, from mysteries to romantic suspense, we’re proud to be offering a wide variety of genres and tales of escapism to our customers in this new year. Every week is a new adventure, and we want to bring our readers along on the journey. Be daring, be brave and try something new with Carina Press in 2011!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
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Dedication
For Lee: thanks for holding my hair
For the women of Twinshock: D.I.T.A.
“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.”
—Nietzsche
Chapter One
A splash of bloody red in the blue sky fluttered like a shapeless bird before landing on his forearm.
John plunked the box down and picked up the silky red bra.
It wasn’t an industrial, serviceable model. This was one of those make-your-mouth-water pieces that would barely cover hard nipples while pushing things into a better vantage point. It was the type of bra a woman wore when she wanted a man to take it off of her. He could almost see the tiny front clasp nestled between two round swells begging to be unleashed. He’d popped a few of those clasps with his teeth before, and the urge hit again.
He glanced over the hedge. A clothesline held a rainbow of bras, panties, camisoles and other feminine intimate wear. The bra in his hand matched a tiny scrap of a thong pinned between a bit of peach lace and a black bra with see-through cups. Oh yeah, he had to meet his neighbor. A smile twitched his mouth. No time like the present.
He tucked the bra in the back pocket of his jeans and rounded the hedge, crossing the small patch of grass to a tiny front porch. A wicker wreath Inez Kelley
7
hung dead center on the banana peel-colored wood. He rapped several times with a firm knuckle.
“I got it!”
His best smile in place, he waited for the woman who owned such a decadent scrap of
clothing to answer. The door swung open and his smile faltered. Although very pretty in a Barbie college-girl way, the strawberry blonde who answered wasn’t his type. She looked too young and innocent for him. His excitement faded to grim acceptance. He should’ve known better than to trust hope. Hope was like a scratch-off lottery ticket—a buck better left in your wallet.
“Yes?” Curiosity shone in her pale blue eyes and he looked for an escape.
“Yeah, hi. I’m John Murphy. I’m moving in next door and the wind picked up a bit—”
“Andrea, who is it?”
A sultry, whiskey-edged voice pulled his eyes behind the girl. As she turned around, the door slid open farther and the woman named Andrea motioned for him to step inside. He had to force his feet to move. His ribs tightened painfully around his lungs.
Here was his vision. Loose curls the color of cinnamon framed her heart-shaped face as she stared at him with violet eyes. No earthly woman had eyes the shade of lilacs. This mirage had to be 8
Sweet as Sin
a product of the sun and heat. His gaze drifted from her face downward and a different kind of heat boiled in his gut.
A purple tee shirt stretched a faded Disney character across her ample chest, and he wondered what color lace lurked under Tinker Bell. Long smooth legs poured from beneath her cut-off shorts. Splotches of plum on her toes hinted at her secret womanly side and made him smile. She wore no makeup but had an internal glow. This was a lady made for sin.
Sin was something he knew intimately.
He offered his hand, and the strength in her grip surprised him. Her soft grasp spoke of competence and confidence. Short unadorned nails highlighted the fact she wore no rings. The sweet scent of cake frosting filled his nose and he inhaled hungrily. His brain slammed into sexual overload as he flashed on licking sugar from her skin. His zipper was suddenly too snug.
Betty Crocker had never been so arousing.
Livvy narrowed her eyes. His gaze scored over her body, leaving a trail of burning desire in its wake. She cast her own assessment from his work boots to the faded jeans that hugged his thick thighs. A damp V of perspiration molded his plain white shirt to his chest. The short sleeves had slid up, pushed back by sculpted muscles.
Inez Kelley
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A knot of longing formed in her throat, but she pushed it down and locked her gaze with his.
Deep blue, almost navy, his eyes could have been too pretty for his rugged face except they were hard and unflinching. Tiny lines creased the corners but beneath the desire lurked something dark, something shadowed, something dangerous.
This wasn’t a man for frivolity. He was made for hard work, hard play and heartache.
Prickles of unease joined with needles of lust and skated up her spine, a sudden throb of awareness aching between her legs. This guy shouldn’t have even pinged her radar. No man seared a woman with that intense a sexual evaluation if he wanted commitment. His perusal was more one-night-stand than church-aisles-and-roses.
Her treacherous body responded to his scrutiny with a whorish force. Pure animalistic lust flared, and she fought the primal urge to preen for him.
Arrogant sexy bastard.
His hand still held hers and she yanked it away.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Livvy Andrews.”
“John, John Murphy.”
“Olivia and John!” Andrea laughed. “It’s like
The Waltons.
No,
Grease!
That’s perfect.”
“Uh, no. It’s not.” Livvy shot her sister a
“cease and desist” look that was pointedly ignored.
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Sweet as Sin
John came to her rescue. “Like I was saying, the wind’s picked up a good bit and I found something in my yard I’m sure belongs to one of you, since it certainly isn’t mine.”
From his back pocket, he pulled a scarlet demi-bra. Seeing it in John’s large hands did wicked things to her stomach. Wicked, delicious, stirring things. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. Livvy snagged it and thrust it behind her back.
Satisfaction gleamed from his face. Somehow she’d stepped into a web she hadn’t known he’d spun. The bit of satin was warm from his body.
Her breasts tingled and her nipples tightened and his gaze dropped to them, his grin widening.
“Sorry. I meant to get the laundry down
earlier,” Andrea said when Livvy stayed silent.
His shoulders shrugged but his eyes never left Livvy’s chest. “No problem.”
“Well, welcome to the neighborhood.” Andrea bounced a look between them, a curious
expression raising her eyebrows. “Hey, John, it’s our turn to host the Annual Elmcrest Fourth of July Picnic tomorrow night if you want to join us.
Nothing fancy, just burgers, beer, chips—standard cookout stuff. Don’t worry about bringing anything, but come meet everyone. We have a great view of the fireworks, but I guess you do too.”
Inez Kelley
11
Livvy clamped her teeth down.
I’m going to
smother her with a pillow in her sleep like I
should’ve done when she was four
.
The low rumble of a car engine pulling into the drive snapped Andrea’s gaze over her shoulder.
“Tow’s here!” She darted outside, leaving them alone.
A bolt of anxiety shot through Livvy. John Murphy was too damn sexy for his own good. He wasn’t doing
her
good any favors either. Desire tinged with danger upped his devil-may-care appeal. This was one bud she had to nip now.
She plastered a completely fake smile on her face. “Yeah, it’s a neighborhood tradition. Come over. Bring your wife and kids.”
A twitch danced along his upper lip before he grinned. “Can’t. Don’t have either.”
Livvy lowered her brows. A shiver slid along her skin and she fought the shake. He was far too cocky to encourage. “Then bring your girlfriend.”
“No girlfriend to bring.”
“Bring your boyfriend then.”
A bark of a laugh rumbled out. “Sorry, honey, you’re stuck with just me.”
“I don’t want you,” she snapped.
John leaned close. The scent of sunshine, man and power wrapped around her. “Maybe I want you.”
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Sweet as Sin
Livvy stepped away and opened the door. She arched a brow, a silent invitation for him to leave.
“Yeah, well, you know the old saying about people in hell and ice water?”
“You offering me a drink?”
“Not unless you go to hell.”
John’s eyes narrowed and his chin lifted the barest tick. He stepped through the door but dipped his head until his breath washed over her cheek. “I probably will but not today. See ya tomorrow, Livvy.”
“Come on, not today.” Livvy turned the key harder, praying the chugging, grinding noise would roll over into a smooth purr.
It didn’t happen. The next try earned only silence. She laid her head on the steering wheel.