by Lea Hart
IRRESISTIBLE
Destiny Series
Lea Hart
Copyright © 2016 by Lea Hart
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Lea Hart
Visit my website at www.leahartauthor.com
DEDICATION
For My Daughters, My Heartbeat
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Julie Cup at Formatting Fairies for all of her special Magic.
I would like to the Jennifer Stimson for her editorial wisdom.
I would also like to thank Janell Parque for her sharp eye.
Destiny Series
This is a collection of stories that are romantic comedies set in Lafayette Louisiana.
Three brothers and the seven deadly sins sit at the center of these short contemporary romances.
We have an alpha hero who gets himself tangled up with a smart, sassy heroine and what ensues can only be described as a wild, sexy ride.
If you enjoy strong romantic connections, sizzling sexual tension and satisfying endings that will leave you smitten, this is the series for you.
CHAPTER ONE
Sunday
Brock stepped out of his truck and let the scent of fresh-cut grass fill his lungs. Being home in Louisiana still felt like a miracle most days, and seventy-degree weather in winter wasn’t anything he was ever going to take for granted again.
Another thing to appreciate was the fact that New Year’s Day wasn’t half over and he’d already managed to haul in a man that he’d been tailing for weeks. The son of a bitch had committed enough felonies to ensure he’d never see the outside of a jail cell again. It was a damn good way to start off the new year. As he ambled across the parking lot, he caught sight of his childhood friend. What in the hell was Lilly Bertrand doing at the Lafayette Sheriff’s Station?
Lifting his hand, he waved and watched a huge smile cross her face. God damn, she was appealing. Always had been, always would be. He’d noticed it the summer she turned fifteen, and he’d been trying to ignore it ever since. “Hey, Lilly. What are you doing down here?”
“Looking for Pete. I’m on a deadline and I need to figure out a new way to choke a man to death.”
Normally a statement like that would be cause for concern, but with Lilly, it was pretty much par for the course. “Darlin’, I’ll help you. I just need to sign off on a report and then I’m free.” When she looked up at him with her inviting whiskey eyes, he realized that the excuses he’d been feeding himself were no longer working. Truth be told, they hadn’t for a very long time. Lilly had always been his kryptonite, and he wondered why he bothered fighting it anymore. He’d been back home for a year, and he was tired of pretending that he didn’t want to tangle himself up with her in a hundred different ways.
“Brock Landry, why are you offering to help?” Placing her hand on his forehead, she frowned. “No fever.” Leaning back, she inspected his face. “You don’t look like you’re drunk, but that doesn’t always mean a thing.” Shrugging, she shifted her purse. “Must be about to die. Clearly, this is a last-ditch effort to save your soul from eternal damnation.” A snort and then a snicker, and she was off to the races laughing her head off.
Watching her giggle reminded him of the girl he’d grown up with. She’d always laughed at her own dumb jokes, which often caused those around her to join in. Before too long, people would be laughing, and they had no idea why. “You need my help or what?”
Pushing her hand into his shoulder, she grinned. “I always could get you riled up. It’s satisfying to see my powers haven’t diminished over the years.”
“I’m a thirty-year-old man, and nothing you do riles me in the least.” Just to prove his point, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door of the station. “Come in and have a cup of horrible coffee while I finish my report, and then I’m all yours.” The fact that her small hand fit perfectly in his was something he’d always noticed. Along with the scent of flowers that surrounded her, the silky wave of hair that brushed against his arm, and the lips that begged to be ravaged.
“I appreciate it, Brock. I also need some information about what happens when someone commits multiple felonies.”
Skidding to a stop, he turned around and laughed. “Not many people have the guts to ask that question inside the sheriff’s station. Is this for your book or for your own personal information?”
“If I say my book, will you believe me?”
“Maybe.” Taking a step closer, he raised an eyebrow. “The fact that you’ve been talking about wanting Drew dead from one end of town to other might make it difficult, though.”
“You heard about that, did you?” Looking down, she picked at a loose string on her T-shirt. “Drew and Tina are on my last nerve, and the only peace I can find is plotting their deaths. It’s cheap therapy and not something I’m likely to give up soon.”
Sliding his hand along her cheek, he lifted her chin. “As long as it’s just talk, then it’s fine. The moment it becomes something else, give me a call. I’m going to need more than a day or two to get your bail together.”
Leaning her head against his hand, she let out a small sigh. “You’re a good friend. I can’t tell if all of this is killing me or making me stronger.”
The second her cheek rested against his hand, he wondered why he even bothered fighting destiny. Clearing his throat, he moved his hand away and shoved it into his pocket. “Go on to the kitchen and grab a cup of coffee, and I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
“If I wasn’t on a deadline, then I would just wait for Pete. I appreciate you taking the time to help me out.”
“No problem.” He walked toward his desk and realized that New Year’s Day might be the perfect time to quit resisting the desire that had plagued him since he was a teenager. As he collapsed into his chair, he felt like a thousand-pound gorilla had just crawled off his shoulders. It seemed acceptance might be the answer he’d been searching for.
***
Flipping through her notebook, Lilly devoured an Almond Joy. When she hit the fifty-thousand-word mark, she always felt the same: like everything she’d written was total crap. Twenty books and it never went away.
The next chapter in her current manuscript was crucial, and she needed something new to keep her readers engaged. She’d been killing off people for fifteen books, and she’d run out of ideas. Looking down the hall, she spotted Brock leaning back in his chair with the phone glued to his ear. He was perfection with his broad shoulders, long legs, and slate-gray eyes that reminded her of the midwinter sky. Too bad he was annoying, self-righteous, and completely immune to her. It had been true from the moment they met, and it was true to this day.
Turning back to her notes, she focused on the information she needed. When he’d offered to help, it about made her choke. If they spent any amount of time together, they ended up bickering. It had started when they were kids, and they’d never managed to stop. They acted like siblings locked into a fuss they’d long forgotten the reason for.
Maybe his offer had something to do with a misguided New Year’s resolution about being kind. Pushing her hair over her shoulder, she tried to come up with a list of the bare minimum she neede
d to finish the chapter. Tangling with Brock wasn’t how she wanted to start off her new year. After all, the way you spent the first day often indicated how the rest of the year would go.
The sound of her phone jangling pulled her out of her thoughts. Digging it out, she saw that it was Pete. “Hey, can you meet me at the house? Great.”
Saved! She didn’t have to rely on Brock for help. Every time she’d done it in the past, it was accompanied by a big lecture. Something she definitely wanted to avoid. Gathering her papers, she shoved them into her bag and sang a silent hallelujah.
Striding to Brock’s desk, she stood in front of him and made hand motions that indicated she was heading out. He was deep into a conversation, and she figured that she could make it out of the station without him making a big deal. She turned, walked quickly out of the room, and was almost out the door when she heard her name being called. “Ignore it,” she instructed herself. “Just pretend you can’t hear.” Adopting a speed-walker gait, she was almost to her car when she felt a large hand on her arm. “Drats,” she said quietly.
“What?” Brock barked loudly.
“Oh, hey…”
“Are you going to pretend that you didn’t hear me calling your name five times?”
Pushing the strap of her purse up, she straightened her shoulders. “I was lost in thought and didn’t register it.” Patting his arm, she gave him a smile. “I got ahold of Pete, and he’s going to give me the info. I won’t need your help after all.” She fished in her purse and unlocked the car with her key fob. “Happy new year. Take care.”
Crossing his arms, he frowned. “I was almost done, Lilly.”
Opening her car door, she threw her bag into the passenger seat. “I’m sure you have a hundred things you’d rather being doing than spending the afternoon with me.” Sliding into the seat, she started her car. “Totally appreciate the offer. Take care.”
She placed her hand on the door and waited for him to step back. When he frowned and grumbled to himself, she knew she’d made the right decision. She closed the door, slipped her seat belt on, and pulled out of her parking space.
As she drove past him, she waved and threw him a big smile. The fact that he didn’t wave back only made her more confident that spending time with him wouldn’t do either one of them a bit of good. Brock Landry wasn’t going to piss on her Cheerios.
This was the first page of the year, and she meant to write a different story. That meant spending time with people she didn’t argue with. Brock wasn’t part of that group. He never had been and he never would be. That she knew for sure.
CHAPTER TWO
Wednesday
The room was crowded and there was a low hum of conversation as everyone worked on their paintings. “Whoever decided that drinking wine and painting was a good combination is a genius,” Lilly said, as she added more green to the stalks of the flowers she was working on.
“Anything with wine is a good idea,” Poppy responded. “We need more though because that’s the only way these paintings are going to turn into anything we want to lay claim to.”
Leaning back, Lilly closed one eye and stared at her canvas. “If I squint, then it actually looks like the picture in my mind.” Taking her glass, she sipped carefully. “I ran into Brock at the station the other day, and he was actually nice to me. It was the weirdest thing. It was like an alien took over his body or something.”
Dropping her brush, Poppy sat back and spread out her hands. “Start from hello and don’t leave anything out.”
“Not much to tell…I needed some technical info and he offered to help. And the disapproval was kept to a minimum. It was very strange.”
“Maybe he’s finally giving in to the attraction he’s always felt for you,” Poppy replied, as she poured them each another glass. “I think you should add some sex and sizzle to your books and ask him to help you work out the scenes. I liked the five romantic suspense books you wrote. Maybe it’s time to leave death and destruction alone for a while.”
“Maybe.” Pushing her paintbrush into a glob of red paint, she darkened the base of the flower. “I’m stuck on where to take the story, so maybe it’s a sign. All I seem to be able to write are scenes where I kill Drew and Tina off.”
“When is your day in court?”
“Next month. They can’t drag this out anymore. It will be decided once and for all, and I’ll be free of their nonsense.”
Their friend Star wandered over with her glass of wine and stared at their work. “I think we definitely have talent. Every week I see our paintings come to life.”
“How many glasses have you had?” Lilly asked as she added a highlight.
“Don’t judge,” Star snapped.
“I’m on my second glass. Trust me, I’m not judging. I just wondered how many glasses it took to make this painting look good.”
“Three,” Star responded before plopping herself down. “What’s the latest on Drew’s demise?”
“Today I thought about making him the victim of a tornado. I wrote a scene where his body is picked up like a piece of trash and then dropped on top of a fence post. You know, one that’s rusty and sharp. It takes a while, so he really suffers.”
Star lifted her glass in salute. “That may be my favorite one yet.”
“I still like the piranhas,” Poppy said as she wiped off her brush. “I think flesh-eating fish are the way to go.”
“So far, I’ve killed him off in at least a dozen different ways. I was thinking of running a contest on my website to see which one gets the most votes.”
“That’s a great idea,” Poppy responded. “I vote for whatever makes him suffer most.”
“Me too,” Star added. “I had the unfortunate experience of running into him and Tina at the Rodgers’s on New Year’s Day, and let me tell you, they deserve one another. I’ve never been around two people who thought more of themselves. Tina was cruel in high school, and now she’s downright dangerous. I swear there’s something off about her. She has the look of the sociopaths I’ve seen in court.” Tightening her ponytail, she smirked. “Being a court reporter has given me a front row seat for society’s crazy parade, and that woman could lead the spectacle.”
“As long as she keeps her sociopathic ways away from me, then everything will be fine,” Lilly said as she stood. “I’m going to wash out my brushes. This masterpiece is done.”
Standing at the sink, she let the warm water run through the brushes and wondered if Poppy was right. Maybe she should add some sizzle to her books. When she had first started writing, she loved creating the romantic and sexy parts of her stories. Why had she left that behind?
A flash of white caught her attention. She turned toward the big plate glass window and saw Brock jogging across the street. He wasn’t in uniform, so he must be on his way to the Jefferson Street Pub. Their tumultuous past didn’t make her blind to the fact that he’d gotten more enticing the older he got. He’d been a dreamboat at sixteen. At thirty, he was six-foot-two of raw masculine power.
Poppy came up and hip-bumped her out of the way. “Are you writing a scene in your head?”
Lilly moved out of the way and dried her brushes. “Not really. Just letting my mind wander.” Hearing her best friend snicker, she knew she’d been caught.
“Your mind is wandering all over Brock’s very fine ass and long legs. You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. You look at him the same way you did when we were fifteen and he was leaving for college.”
“Like I’m relieved,” Lilly replied.
“No! Like the love of your life walked out the door.”
“If Brock is the love of my life, then I want a new one. All we’ve ever done is snipe at each other.”
“Which proves my point perfectly. You don’t snipe at someone you couldn’t care less about. It may be time to convert all that fighting you two do into lovin’. And I mean naked lovin’.”
Before Lilly could offer her rebuttal, the sound of brakes scre
eching and metal scraping pulled both of their attention to the open door. Lilly looked toward the intersection and cringed. “A truck T-boned a sedan.”
“Too bad it’s not Drew in one of those cars,” Poppy said as they gathered their things.
“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Lilly responded as she watched Brock run out of the bar. Seeing his long legs eat up the ground as he moved toward the accident gave her a little tingle. Not that she would ever admit it.
His phone was jammed against his ear and his deep voice carried across the street. She heard the rumble of it through the open door. It was the type of voice that commanded attention. It was the type of voice that made you obey. Grabbing a small notebook out of her purse, she jotted that down. They were good lines she could use in her book. Tapping the pen across her mouth, she studied the pull of his jeans as he ran in front of them. Definitely needed to describe that ass in one of her books. It was damn poetry and her readers would appreciate the visual.
Poppy shoved her bag of supplies in her hand and laughed. “Are you thinking about what I suggested?”
“Maybe,” Lilly replied. “It may be time to switch my gun for a box of condoms. I’m struggling with the current story, and I think it’s a sign. Maybe I’ll add some sexy sizzle and see if that helps. All I need to do is find someone to have wild, dirty sex with.” Slinging her bag on her shoulder, she walked out the door. “Research is important, and if I’m going to write about it, then I need to experience it.”
“Amen,” Poppy responded. “Let’s put that on the top of one those lists you’ve got going. Find someone to have monkey sex with should certainly be prioritized above cleaning out the garage.”
“You may be right,” Lilly said, as they walked across the street toward the pub. The last year had been taken up with writing, dealing with Drew’s lawsuit, and little else. It was definitely time to add some fun back into her life. And wild, dirty sex sounded like the best kind of fun to add.
