How to Seduce a Bad Boy

by Traci Douglass

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Find your Bliss with these great releases… The Sheriff’s Little Matchmaker

  The Firefighter’s Pretend Fiancée

  Catch Him if You Can

  Cowboys Need Not Apply

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Traci Douglass. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  rights@entangledpublishing.com

  Bliss is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Alycia Tornetta

  Cover design by Bree Archer

  Cover photography by Jacob Ammentorp Lund/GettyImages

  ISBN 978-1-64063-728-3

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition January 2019

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

  xoxo

  Liz Pelletier, Publisher

  To Clara, my fluffy writing partner.

  Chapter One

  “Thanks for—” Nothing.

  Melody Bryant barely had time to avoid getting her toes run over as her latest first date pulled away from the curb in a flurry of exhaust and squealing tires.

  With a sigh, she trudged up the walkway to her quaint little bungalow on a quiet side street in Point Beacon, Indiana. She’d really thought this evening had been going well, too. Her date du jour had been Michael Bennett, owner of their tiny town’s only buy-here, pay-here used car emporium and last year’s winner of the chamber of commerce’s top entrepreneur award. And yes, maybe he had been a bit…smarmy—in that aggressive salesman sort of way—with no regard for personal space or breath mints, but still.

  Shoulders slumped, Mel unlocked her front door and pushed inside, her fluffy Birman cat darting over to twine around her ankles. She tossed her stuff on the side table in the foyer, then bent to scratch the purring feline behind the ears. “Another one bites the dust, eh, Waldo?”

  Waldo meowed, as if in sympathy.

  After toeing off her cute red-and-white Mary Jane pumps, she grabbed her cell phone from her purse, then padded down the short hall to the kitchen to grab the canister of M&M’s she kept on her counter at all times. Mel balanced the large glass container on one hip as she proceeded into her open-style living room and plopped into the corner of the overstuffed beige sofa. She pried open the lid of the canister with one hand while hitting speed dial for her best friend with the other, then began sorting the candy into the colors she liked—blue, red, and, most especially, green.

  Lilly Martin answered on the second ring. “How’d it go?”

  “Not good.” Between popping candies into her mouth, Mel explained the events of her newest dating fail. “I mean, it started out fine. Dinner at Stubby’s Steakhouse, talking about our jobs, our goals, our dreams for the future. Then, of course, he went into all his hot librarian fantasies.”

  “Ewww,” Lilly said, her shudder evident through the phone line. “That’s nasty.”

  “Hey, it’s not like I haven’t heard it before.” She devoured another handful of M&M’s, then parroted Mike’s worst come-on. “You must have overdue books, honey, because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

  Lilly snorted. “Nice. How about, ‘It’s not the size of the collection, it’s how you use it.’”

  Mel giggled. “No, no. My all-time favorite was, ‘Good thing I’ve got my library card, ’cause I’m totally checking you out.’”

  They laughed so hard and long, Mel’s stomach hurt by the time she stopped. In the silence that followed, however, harsh reality returned. Given her lack of boyfriend and no prospects on the horizon at the ripe old age of twenty-four, she felt terminally boring and doomed to be stuck in the “friend zone” for eternity. “Seriously, though, what the heck am I missing here?”

  Lilly sighed. “Besides a hot man in your bed?”

  “Exactly.” Mel straightened slightly to run the fingers of her free hand through Waldo’s thick grayish-white fur. “Tell me where to find one of those super studs and I’ll be all over him.”

  “Cool your jets there, Maverick.” Lilly chuckled. “Have you stopped to consider maybe you’re coming across too eager? Most guys like a challenge. Then there’s the whole nightmare of your wardrobe.”

  “What’s wrong with my wardrobe?” Mel scowled down at her calf-length red pencil skirt and cream-colored twinset. The pearls might be a bit much, but they’d belonged to her grandmother.

  “Nothing. If you’re ninety and your name’s June Cleaver.”

  Mel slammed the lid back on the canister and set it on the coffee table. “I don’t look like June Cleaver. I dress for comfort. Plus, it gets cold in the library, so I wear layers to keep warm.”

  “Good, because those cardigans are the only things that’ll be keeping you toasty on the long winter nights ahead.” Lilly’s tone held a hint of pity, which set Mel’s hackles rising. Her best friend had no room to talk. She went through men like tissues, never seeming to stay with one guy too long. Like Goldilocks, no one was just right—too short, too tall, too fat, too thin, talks too much, doesn’t talk enough. Mel had begun to wonder if there was a man alive perfect enough for her best friend. Though there had been that one night, right before Mel’s older brother, James, had left for basic training. She’d thought there might have been something between them, but Lilly had always denied it and Mel wasn’t about to ask James about his love life because…ewww. Anyway, this conversation was about Mel’s romantic adventures, or lack thereof.

  “Look,” Lilly said, jarring Mel out of her thoughts. “All I’m saying is it wouldn’t kill you to show a bit of skin, maybe play down the prim.”

  Arms crossed, Mel cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear. “I’m not prim, I’m classic. Besides, I don’t want to be with a guy who only wants me if I pretend to be something I’m not.”

  “I’m not asking you to change who you are,” Lilly said. “Just highlight your assets.”

  My assets? Mel glanced down at her ample bust and wide hips, then at the M&M’s container beckoning her to finish it off. Lilly was right, darn it, and it was all so unfair. Her twenty-fifth birthday was coming up in a month—August 14, to be exact—and she was still a virgin.

  Sure, maybe being a virgin in your midtwenties wasn’t exactly a predicament equivalent to say, a raging case of Ebola, but it felt pretty darned close to Mel. Especially tonight. Most likely, her lingering maidenh
ead was the reason for her recent bout of dating desperation—and the only sane excuse Mel could come up with for considering born-to-be-wild Lilly’s advice.

  After all, keeping it classy sure hadn’t worked well in the love department thus far.

  Honestly, Mel’s problems with the men of Point Beacon had started clear back in high school. From the day she’d turned sixteen and her parents had finally allowed her to date, all the local guys thought she was too type A, too high-maintenance, too “good girl.”

  Maybe that was true. She exhaled slowly and collapsed back against the couch cushions, feeling defeated. She ran the best dang library in central Indiana yet couldn’t seem to make it past a first date. Let alone find a man to make all her wicked desires and fantasies come true.

  It was frustrating. It was pitiful. It was ridiculous.

  And it was all Adam Foster’s fault.

  Mel wouldn’t be in this pristine mess now if her older brother’s best friend had slept with her the night she’d propositioned him eight years ago. But no. Adam had to be all noble and heroic and tell her she was special and should wait for the right guy to come along.

  “…and what you need to do is get rid of this good-girl image you’ve got looming over you like a shroud.” Lilly’s words jolted Mel back to the present. Perhaps her best friend was right. She’d been good until now. Maybe it was time to temper the sweet with a bit of spice.

  It was bad enough her parents constantly hounded her these days about giving them grandkids. Now the townsfolk were chiming in, too. Today, for instance, she’d been walking home from work and old Gus MacMillan, the cantankerous owner of Point Beacon Hardware, had stopped sweeping his sidewalk to ask Mel when she was going to “get hitched and have babies.”

  Then again, he might’ve been trying to rile her up. She and Gus weren’t on the best terms lately since she’d chewed him out last week about getting his library card, then not using it. Still, her reproductive activities, or lack thereof, were none of his business.

  Mel sighed and closed her eyes, focusing on a solution.

  What she needed was direction. An achievable course of action to lose her virginity by her twenty-fifth birthday—five short weeks from now.

  In the end, she really only had one man in mind for the job.

  A tall order, but not impossible, given that Adam was back in Point Beacon following two tours in the army. Mel had stopped by his body shop under the guise of scheduling maintenance for her car, to see if Adam still looked the same. He did—all tall, dark, and tantalizingly unavailable. But he hadn’t so much as glanced her way. Then she’d ended up missing her bogus appointment at his garage because of a delivery snafu at the library. She’d yet to speak one word to the guy since his return, even though he lived just down the road. Still, each night she’d hear the sound of his motorcycle, rumbling past her house after he got off work, and her knees went wobbly picturing gorgeous bad boy Adam with all that roaring power between his thighs.

  “Uh, I need to go, Lils.”

  “Wait.” Her best friend’s tone grew suspicious. “What are you going to do?”

  The familiar sound of his Harley-Davidson grew louder in the distance, and adrenaline swamped Mel’s system, causing her heart rate to triple. Adam Foster was on his way home, and her future suddenly looked a whole lot brighter. “I’ve got a plan. Talk to you later.”

  Mel ended the call without saying goodbye, tossed her phone on the coffee table, then headed down the hall toward her front door, doing a quick check of her reflection in the foyer mirror. Same petite figure. Same long brown hair. Same big brown eyes. Tonight, though, her gaze sparkled with new determination. She wasn’t the besotted, naive girl Adam had left behind eight years ago. Now she was a successful woman with a good job and a home of her own.

  She was ready.

  Or not.

  She might’ve overstated the whole “having a plan” part, but it was too late now.

  She’d flag him down, then take things from there. Improvise. Be wild.

  Head held high, Mel walked outside and stood on the sidewalk in front of her bungalow, waiting until the bright halogen beam of his motorcycle headlight approached down the street, then waved her arms frantically.

  Let Project Seduce Adam Foster begin.

  …

  Adam rode home in the gathering twilight, deep in thought. He’d been back in Point Beacon for a while now, and overall things were going well. Business was booming at Victory Vets Body Shop and Repair—the new business venture he’d started with his childhood best friend, James Bryant—and he’d even managed to reconnect with some of his old gang from high school.

  Still, he felt a bit untethered.

  Adam slowed at the four-way stop at Elm and Main before proceeding through into the quiet suburbs surrounding their bustling tiny downtown. His shop was on the other side of Point Beacon near the railroad tracks, more on the outskirts. Sort of like him.

  This place might be home, but returning here had been weird, especially since his dad had passed on. His mom had walked out when Adam was ten. This bike and the old run-down house at the end of Crestview Lane were his only inheritance, his only physical reminders of the life he’d had before the army. The mental reminders, on the other hand, were plentiful.

  Tall trees blurred past. Everything looked the same as it had eight years ago when he’d left, but things were different, too. The townsfolk treated him differently now that he’d served his country. Before he’d enlisted, the good people of Point Beacon had labeled Adam a troublemaker—too wild, too reckless, too poor. They’d been right in most respects.

  Now, though, those same people thanked him for his service, called him a hero.

  It was bizarre.

  Veering around the corner onto his street, Adam caught sight of a woman flapping her arms like a chicken and did a double take. He slowed as he neared, and his heart skipped a beat.

  Please, God, don’t let it be Melody Bryant. Anybody but her.

  But it was her. He’d recognize those frumpy clothes and great rack anywhere. Not that he ought to be checking her out, but he couldn’t seem to help himself where Mel was concerned. All the more reason to steer clear. What he couldn’t figure out, though, was why she was standing in the dark trying to take flight. James’s little sister had always been a tad quirky, but he’d always kind of liked that about her. More than he should.

  After taking a deep breath for patience and steeling his natural inclination to fall back into their old patterns of easiness together, Adam slowed to a stop in front of her place. The home reflected Mel to a T—prim, perfect, and polished to within an inch of its life.

  Basically, the exact opposite of him.

  Once upon a time, he and Mel had been pretty good friends. He’d vanquished her bullies, and she’d nursed his wounds in the family’s kitchen afterward when he’d stopped over to hang with James. She’d taped up his knuckles, then fed him M&M’s from her secret stash. The green ones had been her favorite, he remembered, for some crazy reason. He’d teased her about how they were supposed to make you horny…

  Not helpful right now.

  Adam cut the bike’s engine and watched her through the polarized glasses he wore to keep the bugs out of his eyes. Some people said a helmet would’ve been safer, but there was something about the wind through his hair and the slap of fresh air against his face that made him feel alive. And it had been so long since Adam had felt truly alive, with a purpose and a reason to get out of bed in the morning besides work. Also, the law in this state didn’t require him to wear one, so “those” people could go screw themselves.

  Mel fidgeted under his steady gaze, the rose color staining her pretty cheeks softened by the glow from her porch light. Seemed he still affected her, even after all these years. The thought made him way happier than was wise.

  He slid his glasses up to the top of his head and scratched the dark scruff on his chin. Gritty and greasy from a long day working on cars, all Adam wa
nted was a cold beer and a long, hot shower. But if the determined look on Mel’s face was any indication, he wouldn’t be getting either for a while. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Adam,” she said, her voice a tad breathless. He felt that huskiness all the way to the tips of his toes but didn’t let it show. This was little Melody Bryant, James’s sister, a gal who was too good for him in high school and well out of his league now.

  She was bossy, frustrating, opinionated.

  Gorgeous.

  Jag, one of the guys back at the shop, had told him she’d stopped by a week or so ago to schedule maintenance on her late-model Camry. Said the check engine light was on, but then she’d missed her appointment. Maybe that’s why she wanted to talk to him tonight.

  His gut said otherwise.

  Adam shifted slightly in his seat, letting the burden of conversation fall on her. She was the one who’d flagged him down, after all, and he’d never been much good at small talk anyway. Then she bit her bottom lip, drawing his attention to how full and soft it looked, and despite his resolve, memories resurfaced of another night eight years prior—the two of them alone on the back porch of her parents’ house, the feel of Mel’s soft curves pressed against him as she’d whispered the words he’d never forget.

  I love you, Adam Foster, and I want to give myself to you. Completely…

  They’d both been so young, and he’d been totally blindsided.

  “We need to talk.” Mel cleared her throat, jarring him back to the present. James would have him skinned alive if he’d known about that night, and their business partnership, their friendship, Adam’s future, would all go up in smoke.

  Mel stepped back from the curb and hiked her thumb toward the house. “Could you come inside for a minute, please?”

  Adam exhaled slowly and carefully lowered the kickstand on his prized, fully customized Violet Pearl Softail Fat Boy before dismounting. It was the one decent thing his dad had left him, since the house was practically falling down. He pocketed his keys, then crossed his arms, assessing the woman in front of him.

  Mel seemed shorter than he remembered, the top of her head barely reaching his chin as they stood a foot or so apart. Swallowing hard, he followed her up the short walk to her porch, the breeze carrying a hint of her cherry-blossom-and-vanilla scent. Lord help him, she practically had a neon sign above her head blinking Off-Limits, yet Adam’s skin prickled with awareness. She was big trouble where he was concerned, and he’d be smart to keep as much distance between them as possible, literally and figuratively.