Turn Me On
Authors: Faye Avalon
Evernight Publishing
Copyright© 2013 Faye Avalon
ISBN:
978-1-77130-450-4
Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Melissa
Hosack
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a
work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For my editor, Melissa Hosack, with thanks.
TURN ME ON
Brighton
Heat, 3
Faye Avalon
Copyright
© 2013
Chapter One
The bride looked stunning in her ivory silk dress. The groom looked
equally gorgeous in his dark gray suit. For that matter he looked pretty
devastating out of it, Lissa thought as she peeked out from behind the
anonymous man she was currently using as a shield. She had firsthand knowledge
of just how devastating.
Lissa Delaney. You slut.
There it was again. The voice in her head she could never quite ignore.
Not since that night she’d let the groom… Oh hell. She wasn’t going there.
Certainly not while she was hiding amongst the crowd outside the pretty church
as the happy couple posed for photographs.
Photographs she should be shooting, but instead she was skulking amongst
the wedding guests, attempting to remain inconspicuous as she herded them into
groups of friends of the groom, friends of the bride, and so forth. Thank
heavens Tom had taken pity on her and agreed to let her take a secondary role.
She’d told her boss that the groom was an old boyfriend and thankfully he’d
swallowed it.
It wasn’t as if she could tell him the truth. That not too long ago
she’d found herself at a bar, drowning her sorrows and lamenting her stupidity,
when she’d been approached by the man who was currently standing proudly next
to his bride. That
, in a moment of lascivious weakness,
she’d decided to indulge in a night of wild sex with him…
and she hadn’t even bothered to ask
his name.
Slut
.
“Oh, shut up,” Lissa muttered to herself, before noticing Tom’s signal
for her to round up another party for their shot. She could only imagine what
her straight-laced boss would say if he knew the whole of it.
Her cheeks burned. Hell. She could barely allow herself to reflect on it.
What had she been thinking? Not that she had
been thinking at all, and hadn’t wanted to think, which was the whole problem.
As she edged toward the group Tom indicated, she spared a glance at the
best man, who was currently laughing at something his girlfriend had said. The
way they were looking at each other, Lissa imagined it wouldn’t be long before
they occupied the very spot their friends were currently smiling out from.
Her cheeks burned fiercer as she took a moment to study the best man
with his dark hair falling to his wide shoulders and that sexy silver hoop
flashing in his ear. She remembered that hoop, she remembered those shoulders.
Remembered…
Slut. Slut. Slut.
She ducked behind the group and started to usher them toward the wedding
party for their photo.
“Seems to me you’re either hiding from the law, or trying to avoid an
old lover.”
Lissa swung around and came face to face with a wide chest encased in a
crisp white shirt and dark jacket. Her gaze drew up, embracing the silky length
of a navy tie wrapped enticingly around a large neck, and ended at a wickedly
sexy face out of which gleamed sinful blue eyes.
Before she could respond to his perceptive comment, at least the old
lover part, Mr. Tall, Dark and oh-so Perfectly Formed let his mouth kick up at
the corner. “You also talk to yourself, which makes me wonder if we’re all
entirely safe right now.”
Lissa thought to merely offer him a saccharine smile before she promptly
ignored him, but he leaned down conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, princess. Your
secret’s safe with me.”
“What secret? There is no secret.”
He winked and in that moment Lissa wondered if the devil had blue eyes.
“Old lover it is.” He tapped the side of his nose. “If the going gets tough,
you can hide behind me. I’ll protect you.”
Something about the way he said it made Lissa bristle. There was an
arrogance about him, an arrogance that was innate and had nothing to do with
the exquisite cut of his navy suit or his well groomed features. She gauged him
to be mid thirties—making him almost a decade older than her—which she supposed
he assumed gave him the right to call her
princess
.
Arrogant prick.
She stuck her chin in the air. “I don’t need protecting. And I’m not
hiding.”
“Then why are you sneaking around?”
She wanted to squeal with frustration. “I’m not. I’m merely being
unobtrusive. I’ve got a job to do as efficiently and unobtrusively as
possible.”
“Then what’s with the talking to yourself?”
She couldn’t deny that one, seeing as he’d heard her berating herself
for her insistent memories of a night best forgotten. “It helps me
concentrate.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll have to try it sometime.”
“You do that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a group to round up.
Family of the groom.”
“Then that would include me.”
“You’re family?” Lissa’s stomach pitched, although she wasn’t entirely
sure why. It was obvious he was connected in some way to either the bride or
groom, as was everyone here.
But he was
the first who’d actually struck up a conversation with her.
Which wasn’t completely true, Lissa thought as she glanced over at the
best man again. She’d had an awkward few minutes when she’d bumped into him and
his girlfriend. He’d seemed okay, if surprised, to see her and had attempted to
make introductions, which had provided another tricky moment seeing as he’d been
as clueless to her name as she was to his.
“Cousin of the groom,” the hunk beside her responded, pulling Lissa from
her thoughts about
that
night. “Where
do you want me?”
Well, if she had harbored any plans to flirt right back with him, which
she actually hadn’t, the fact he was the groom’s cousin had quashed that
intention. Lissa looked up into those blue eyes again. “You need to go join the
bride and groom for the group shot.”
“You’d better supervise me. I might not stand in the right place.”
That sexy smile flashed again and if he hadn’t been the groom’s cousin
she might have given in and enjoyed some of that mutual flirting. But who was
she kidding? Even if she wasn’t trying to avoid the groom, this man was way out
of her league. He oozed sex appeal, confidence, and self-assurance. Plus, he
probably had a string of women, if he wasn’t already married.
She glanced down at his left hand and when she looked back he’d cocked
one of his straight black eyebrows. “I’m still available, princess. Want to
stake your claim?”
Seeing as she’d already gone damp it seemed futile to refute his
question. Did she want to stake her claim? You bet. But once, a few months
back, she’d throw caution to the wind and look where that had got her. Creeping
around at a wedding while trying to avoid the objects of her transgression.
“Maybe
I’m
not available.” She
managed to get this statement out almost convincingly as she waved her hand in
the general direction of the group lining up for the shoot. “You should go.”
“Not until you tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Whether it’s the law or the lover.”
“Neither,” she lied. “Like I said, I’m just doing my job. If you don’t
hurry you’ll miss the photo.”
He narrowed his eyes as he contemplated her. “Okay, if you won’t tell me
now, I’ll wait until your photographic duties are over. At the reception. You
can tell me later over a drink.” He winked at her again, making her stomach do
a stupid roll.
You’ll be disappointed, handsome
. Lissa ducked behind a tree and
watched him stroll off in the direction of the bridal party. Thankfully, she
was almost done with this job and could soon make her escape.
Tom had told her he only needed her to help with the outside shots.
She heaved a sigh of relief. Whether
it was down to the fact she’d managed to escape detection by the groom, or that
she’d been released from the unsettling presence of those dangerous blue eyes,
she couldn’t say.
She didn’t know how much more of this she could have endured. For almost
thirty minutes, she’d dodged, avoided, and damn near caused herself physical
damage trying to evade the groom’s attention. But then was she fooling herself?
Would the man, whose name she now knew as Ethan, even remember her? Recognize
her? Or had she faded into insignificance in his eyes as a woman who’d once offered
herself to him on a plate, let him do things to her she’d only ever wondered
about, and bid her farewell the next morning after an
extremely
adventurous night?
