Authors: Alannah Lynne
Tags: #sexy, #sexual, #erotic romance, #sensual, #Contemporary Romance, #steamy romance, #beach reads, #steamy, #beach romance, #sexy romance, #sensual romance, #sexual romance, #carolina beaches
Copyright 2012 by Alannah Lynne
www.facebook.com/authoralannahlynne
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written
permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. The characters and
events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to
real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intentional
by the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and
trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of
fiction, which have been used without permission. The
publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated
with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then you should return it to your
online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the author’s work.
Dedicated to my parents.
Thank you for your unwavering belief
and faith in me. I love you!
A friend recently said, “It takes a village
to get me published.” Whew... ain’t it the truth! There are so many
people that touch my life on a daily basis and all have played a
part, in one way or another, in getting me to this point. I
couldn’t possibly list everyone, but there are a few I absolutely
must acknowledge.
First, the Plotmonkeys (Carly Phillips,
Janelle Denison, Julie Leto, Leslie Kelly) for introducing me to
the fabulous, amazing world of romance!! You’ll never know the
influence you’ve had over the years, or how much I appreciate the
kindness you’ve shown me!!
Thank you, Amy Eye and Cassie McCown at The
Eyes for Editing, for making the words pretty, and especially for
fixing my horrible punctuation!! And what would pretty words be
without an amazing cover? Thanks Tricia “Pickyme” Schmitt for your
usual awesomeness!
Thanks to Leagh Christensen for making order
from the chaos. And where would I be without my board of directors,
also affectionately known as my Mistresses: Amanda McFarland, Cheri
Biddix, Liz Henderson, and Michelle Unger. Thank you, from the
bottom of my heart, for being my BOD, beta readers, and most
especially, my friend!
When I put on my writer hat, I tend to get
lost in my fictional worlds and sometimes forget the real one. I
need to thank my amazing husband and sons for forgiving all of
those burned (or forgotten) meals, and for keeping me in clean
clothes. I love you guys!! Thanks for sharing this journey with
me.
But most of all, thank YOU, the reader!!
Without you, there wouldn’t be a need for me.
Table of
Contents
One step away from the coveted Vice
Presidency of her firm, the last thing Kat Owens needs is the
distraction of a man. Her client, Erik Monteague, disagrees. He’s
charming, sexy, seductive, and impossible to ignore or refuse.
After succumbing to his advances, Kat’s forced to choose between
her career and the man she’s fallen for... while knowing even her
love might not be enough to save him from self-destructing.
While Erik’s perfectly executed seduction
gets Kat into his bed, the end result is more than he bargained
for. Having spent the past ten years wallowing in guilt and
self-loathing over his fiancée’s tragic death, falling in love is
unacceptable. However, Kat’s passionate, loving nature dissolves
the carefully constructed walls guarding his heart, forcing him to
face his tragic past and make a decision... spend the rest of his
life running, or risk being devastated by love again?
Chapter
One
Oh man, not the strawberry… not the
strawberry… Aw, shit.
Erik Monteague clenched his jaw and steeled
his defenses against the impending carnal assault. The laughing
guests, jazz band, overflowing food tables—everything at the
Sinclair Marketing Group open house faded into the woodwork as his
field of vision narrowed down to ruby lips and the damn lucky
strawberry about to be sucked into them.
Her pink tongue flicked across full, luscious
lips, then scooped a bead of chocolate from the bottom of the
large, ripe fruit. She opened her mouth, slid the berry inside, and
wrapped her lips around it.
Good God Almighty.
Erik shifted his
stance and stifled a moan. “I can’t believe I’m jealous of a piece
of fruit.”
A familiar chuckle pierced his lust-filled
haze, causing his pinpoint vision to snap back to wide-angle view.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted his best friend, Steve Vex,
making like a bartender, serving up a beer.
“What’s up?” Steve asked, laughing.
The smirk on Steve’s face proved the question
was rhetorical, so rather than answering the jackass, Erik swiped
one of the beers. “Perfect timing.”
“Yeah, you looked like you might be
overheating.” Steve tipped his bottle in
her
direction and
hitched his chin. “I’ve never seen her before. Who is she?”
Who is she?
Erik stared at Steve for a moment, perplexed
by the simple question. It shouldn’t have required much thought,
but Erik, always a straight-shooting, tell-it-like-it-is kind of
guy, found himself hedging.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and
squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ward off the explosive memories
of her and their night together.
Her mouth—warm and slick—wrapped tightly
around him…
Her beneath him, bottom lip caught between
her teeth in an effort to hold back her screams… Her mouth dropping
open to gasp for air as she cried out her release…
Him waking and reaching for her, only to
find himself alone…
He swallowed hard and scrubbed a hand down
his face. “I don’t know who she is,” he said, somewhat truthfully.
After all, just because you knew someone intimately didn’t mean you
knew
them.
Steve quirked a pierced eyebrow. “Yeah, I
think I’m going to have to call bullshit on that.”
At times, having a friend who was closer than
a brother was a true blessing. This wasn’t one of those times.
“Sometimes you’re a real pain in the ass.”
Steve’s lopsided grin grew to obnoxious
proportions. “Yep,” he said, “it’s something I live for, especially
where you’re concerned.” He took a sip of beer and waited. And
waited. And when Erik didn’t elaborate, he pressed the issue
further. “Seriously. What’s the deal?”
Erik took a long drink of beer, then studied
the floor and fought the urge to shuffle his feet like a teenager
being grilled by a suspicious parent. He and Steve had been friends
since the first day of kindergarten, when they’d both gotten into
trouble for standing underneath the monkey bars, sneaking peeks up
the girls’ dresses. In their twenty-seven-year friendship Erik had
never kept anything from Steve.
Until now.
Unwilling to analyze why he wanted to keep
her identity, or the scope of their relationship, private, when
he’d never worried about that kind of thing before, he grinned
slyly and said, “My friend, we have shared many things. But
whatever I might know about her, I’m keeping to myself.”
“Damn.” All traces of amusement dropped from
Steve’s face, and he whistled low. “That sounds serious.”
Erik bristled at what he suspected could
maybe, possibly be a spec of truth, if he allowed it to go that
far. But he recovered quickly and turned it into a joke. Nailing on
a smile, he said, “It is.” He took a moment to enjoy surfing the
shock waves rolling off his friend before adding, “Serious lust.
You know, the kind that results in sex that’s mind-altering, not
life-altering.”
Shit. The instant the words left his mouth,
he knew he’d taken the sarcasm too far. He’d left an opening big
enough to drive a truck through, and, as expected, Steve barreled
in. “Dammit, Erik, it’s been ten years. When are you gonna let it
go and move on?”
Erik rolled his head in a circle, attempting
to loosen the muscles in his neck and shoulders that’d suddenly
snapped into tight bands. They’d had this conversation too many
times to count, and he didn’t want to have it again.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
Rather than delve into the past—a past he
couldn’t change or forget—he directed his attention across the room
to something much more pleasant.
Kat.
He chuckled as he considered for the first
time the possibility she might have given him a false name. That
would certainly explain why, on all of his subsequent trips to
Charlotte and multiple attempts to find her, he’d come up
empty.
The name fit her so well, he found himself
hoping she hadn’t lied. Tall and lithe, her movements were fluid
and graceful, like those of a cat. And when stroked just right, she
damn near purred. He scowled. She’d also crawled under his skin and
become a constant source of irritation—like cat scratch fever.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned
against the wall, studying her. She looked different than she had
the night they’d met, and at first glance, he thought his mind was
playing tricks on him. But the more he watched her move through the
crowd, mixing and mingling and interacting, the more obvious it
became. Her conservative business suit couldn’t hide her tempting
curves or disguise the way her body moved with a natural
sensuality.
She still screamed “sex,” and he still wanted
her to the point of aching.
His stomach—and khakis—tightened as more
unwelcome memories of her unbridled passion assaulted him. Her
green eyes, locked within his gaze; her black hair falling across
his chest while she rode him to oblivion. He’d almost forgotten all
the reasons he avoided relationships and nearly professed true love
that night.
It was probably for the best that she’d snuck
out on him while he slept. It had prevented him from doing
something foolish. Like falling for her.
“Hey, Romeo.”
Startled from his thoughts, Erik jumped. The
wicked gleam in Steve’s eyes set Erik’s nerves on edge, and his
irritation flared. “What?”
“I hate to wake you from your wet dream, but
Elise has been watching you watch… whoever she is. And now Elise is
headed this way.” He laughed and slapped Erik on the back. “You’re
on your own with this one, brother, I’m out.”
Shit.
Erik closed his eyes and gulped his beer,
wishing he had a keg tapped straight into his veins. There wasn’t
enough alcohol in the world to make Elise Winstead tolerable, and
the only reason he tried to be civil was out of respect for their
mothers’ friendship.
Elise stopped in front of him, crossed her
arms under her large, surgically enhanced breasts, and pierced him
with an icy look recognized by males from every corner of the
globe.
Rather than play games or dally around, he
decided to get straight to the point and be done with her. “What do
you want, Elise?”
“Nothing, really.” She pecked a talon against
her cheek. “It’s just that… Well, I couldn’t help but notice your
interest in my competition.”
Despite his desire to stay aloof, Erik felt
his eyebrows rise in surprise. How could Elise and Kat be in
competition for anything? One was like a Rolls Royce: compact with
overdone curves, high maintenance, and pretentious as hell. The
other—he flicked a glance to Kat—was like his Harley: sleek,
commanded attention, represented wild abandon, and provided the
ride of a life.
“Competition?” he asked, hesitant to
encourage further conversation, but curious enough about Kat’s
presence at SMG to risk it.
“The new account executive Rusty hired.” She
looked at Kat with a truckload of disgust. “She’s from a big agency
in Charlotte, and she’s got ninety days to prove she’s better than
me.” She snorted. “As if.” Mumbling more to herself than speaking
directly to him, she said, “I just don’t understand why she’d leave
a large agency to come here. Something’s fishy.”
Erik suspected he knew why Kat left her old
job, probably for the same reason she’d been in that bar drinking
the night they’d met. But no way in hell would he arm Elise with
that kind of ammunition against Kat, or anyone else for that
matter. If she was going to be a seething boil on someone’s ass,
she’d have to do it without his help.