Praise for Lacey Alexander
“THE QUEEN OF ROMANTIC KINK.”—Wild on Books
Praise for the H.O.T. Cops
Bad Girl by Night
“I could not put this hot book down . . . and oh, my was this hot! It is so smoldering with passion and heat.”
—Night Owl Reviews
“Sizzling scenes . . . an intriguing read.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Begins with a ménage a trois and keeps on sizzling.”
—Romantic Times
“This was the most erotic book I’ve read to date.”
—Fiction Vixen
“Ms. Alexander knows how to capture a reader’s attention. . . . This story is smokin’ hot!”
—Coffee Time Romance
“Moving . . . tender and sexually adventurous.”
—TwoLips Reviews
“Starts off scorching and only continues to fan the flames of passion . . . Lacey Alexander unleashes all her erotic writing prowess.”
—A Romance Review
“Quite an emotional ride.”
—The Season of Romance
What She Needs
WINNER OF THE HOLT MEDALLION AWARD
“Buckle up and hold on tight. Impossibly hot!”
—Fallen Angel Reviews (5 Angels)
“One very hot, sexy, and erotic book.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Prepare to be swept away on an erotic journey of sexual awakening.”
—The Romance Studio (5 Hearts)
“An ultraheated erotic romance. The heat is on.”
—The Best Reviews
“This book sizzles.”
—Erotic Romance Writers
“Each sex scene is more varied—and hotter—than the last.”
—Romantic Times (4 Stars)
The Bikini Diaries
WRITE TOUCH AWARD WINNER AND COLORADO AWARD OF EXCELLENCE FINALIST
“Hot, sizzling, and sexy! Lacey Alexander definitely will scorch your senses.”
—Romance Junkies (5 Blue Ribbons)
“Sinfully erotic.”
—Sacramento Book Review
“With intriguing characters, [a] fast-paced story line, and tight writing, plus a host of naughty sexual adventures, Ms. Alexander delivers a powerful story.”
—Love Romances & More (4½ Hearts)
“[A] phenomenal book. Do yourself a huge favor and buy everything Lacey Alexander has ever written. You won’t regret it.”
—TwoLips Reviews (5 Lips)
“[The] most erotic book I have read. Lacey Alexander has written a no-holds-barred romp of sexual delights . . . a profound book.”
—Joyfully Reviewed
Seven Nights of Sin
WRITE TOUCH AWARD WINNER
“Lacey Alexander’s books bring out the good little bad girl in all of us. Unforgettable in an ‘oh, yeah, do that again please’ sort of way.”
—Michelle Buonfiglio, myLifetime.com
“Thoroughly tantalizing, with magnetic characters, a sizzling plot and raw sensuality, this book will have you fanning yourself long after the last page!”
—Romantic Times
And Further Praise for Lacey Alexander
“[A]n exceptionally talented author who . . . pens the most arousing sexual scenes that you could never imagine.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“Lacey Alexander has given readers . . . hot, erotic romance with no holds barred.”
—Romance Junkies
“One of the most talented, straightforward, imaginative writers in erotic romance today.”
—The Road to Romance
“Lacey Alexander just ‘wowed’ me! Incredibly hot!”
—Romance Reader at Heart (Top Pick)
“An intoxicating erotic writer . . . sexual discovery at its best.”
—Noveltown
“Lacey Alexander’s characters . . . are so compelling and lifelike.”
—Coffee Time Romance
“Lacey Alexander takes blissful hedonism to a whole new level in this blazingly brazen, passionately erotic love story!”
—Ecataromance
Also by Lacey Alexander
H.O.T. Cops Novels
Bad Girl by Night
Party of Three
Voyeur
Seven Nights of Sin
The Bikini Diaries
What She Needs
GIVE IN TO ME
A H.O.T. COPS NOVEL
Lacey Alexander
A SIGNET ECLIPSE BOOK
SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Copyright © Lacey Alexander, 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Alexander, Lacey.
Give in to me: a H.O.T. cops novel/Lacey Alexander.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-101-59818-4
I. Title.
PS3601.L3539G58 2012
813'.6—dc23 2012026816
Set in Centaur MT
Designed by Alissa Amell
Printed in the United States of America
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Contents
Praise
Also by Lacey Alexander
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
<
br /> About the Author
Excerpt from Bad Girl by Night
All of our reasoning ends in surrender to feeling.
—Blaise Pascal
Chapter 1
April Pediston regretted her business suit the moment she stepped into the Café Tropico, which, she instantly realized, was less a café and more your garden variety bar and dance club. Not nearly as trendy—or classy—as most Ocean Drive establishments, the Café Tropico had clearly been here a while, though she got the idea its heyday had long since passed.
“Table for two,” she told the skinny twenty-something hostess clad in a baby doll tank and ultrashort cutoff jeans. She couldn’t help noticing the girl hadn’t bothered with a bra, and her nipples jutted prominently against the snug fabric. And the slightly perplexed look on the girl’s face as she led April to a table assured her that she appeared just as out of place as she felt. But she’d come straight from work and she was here on business, so she hadn’t given it a thought. Meetings outside the office were generally held at places where . . . well, where she wasn’t usually greeted by someone wearing so little.
Warm night air—punctuated with just the hint of a soft breeze blowing in from South Beach—permeated the partially open-air restaurant and reminded April that summer was descending on Miami. She’d always meant to move away—to someplace cooler, calmer. However, the feeling was vague and her fate long since accepted. She couldn’t really ever leave—too many people here depended on her. And still, despite being raised here, she’d never felt she fit in in Miami any more than she fit in at the Café Tropico.
Across the room, intimidating guys with tattoos and goatees drank beer and shot pool, the clack of the balls cutting through her thoughts, while a band set up instruments and sound equipment at a small stage in the distance. She was just beginning to wonder whether the Café Tropico actually served food—she hadn’t eaten, assuming this was a dinner meeting—when the braless hostess returned with a menu and a glass of water, informing her a waitress would be with her in a minute.
“I’m meeting someone,” she replied, “so . . . oh, here she is now.”
She’d just looked up to see Kayla Gonzalez crossing the floor toward her, passing by one of several potted palm trees that actually gave the place a little tropical ambience. Kayla wore jeans and a tight tank top, her gaze—and entire countenance—as haggard as the last time April had seen her two years ago. Hair that had been black the last time April had worked with Kayla was now long and platinum blond with dark brown roots an inch long.
As April greeted her, the other woman tried to smile, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes.
“Shall we order dinner before we talk business?” April suggested. She’d been on the run today and had eaten only a granola bar for lunch.
When Kayla looked hesitant, though, April realized that indeed dinner hadn’t been on this evening’s agenda for the other woman. “I . . . probably shouldn’t.”
Thinking maybe it was a matter of money, April smiled and said, “My treat.”
As Kayla blinked, April saw remnants of youthful beauty pass through her eyes. Whereas April was thirty-three, Kayla probably wasn’t yet thirty, but she looked far older. “That’s awful nice of you, but . . . I was hopin’ we could get right down to business. I don’t have much time.”
April held back her sigh. Dinner would wait—whatever legal matter Kayla had called her here to discuss was clearly weighing on her. “Sure,” April said. “What can I do for you?”
Kayla tossed quick, furtive glances back and forth across the room as if to make sure no one was watching as she leaned across the small table and said, just loud enough to be heard above the other noise in the room, “I want a divorce.”
April wasn’t entirely surprised at this news, and in fact, she suspected it would be the smartest move Kayla would ever make. The last time she’d represented Kayla—connecting via a women-helping-women group through which she did pro bono work—Kayla had been accused of stealing valuable equipment from the warehouse where she’d worked as a receptionist. April had built a case proving that Kayla couldn’t have done it—not only because she’d had an alibi, but she was physically too small to have lifted and transported the generators and other heavy items taken. And though Kayla had maintained her innocence throughout, April had been torn between believing Kayla had just been a convenient target and worrying that Kayla’s husband had been involved in the theft. She’d met Juan Gonzalez only once, but he’d made a terrible impression, striking April as mentally and possibly physically abusive.
Even so, April had to inform her, “Kayla, I wish I could help you, but I’m not a divorce lawyer. That’s not the kind of work I do. Though I can connect you with someone else through Women Helping Women.”
Kayla’s eyes clouded over so darkly that April felt it in her gut. “But . . . I wanted you. That’s why I called you on my own and didn’t go through the service—I didn’t want nobody else. You were so nice to me before. And you don’t make me feel like . . . trash.” She whispered the last word as if it were an obscenity.
As a pang of empathy shot through April’s core, she reached out to touch Kayla’s hand on the table. “Kayla, you shouldn’t ever let anyone make you feel like trash.”
Yet Kayla’s expression stayed downcast, and even as April thought of a colleague, Ellen, who handled divorces for disenfranchised women for free, she knew the other attorney did sometimes intimidate her less-confident clients. She never stopped to remember how fragile some of them were. And April couldn’t forget how difficult it had seemed for Kayla to even look her in the eye when they’d first met two years ago. If Kayla was comfortable with her but wouldn’t have that luxury with someone else . . . well, she didn’t want to be responsible for the poor woman postponing her divorce, especially if her husband was abusive.
“Please,” Kayla added then. “I really need your help.”
April let out a breath and said, “I’ll need to get some guidance from my colleague.” Though hopefully it would be a simple thing, something cut-and-dried and easy for all involved. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’ll be my lawyer again?” Kayla asked, her eyes suddenly brightening.
April nodded reluctantly. “Sure.”
After which Kayla thanked her profusely, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “That’s such a relief,” she went on. “I’m strung out enough over this without havin’ to get to know somebody new. And like I said, you’ve always been so nice.”
I really don’t need something like this added to my plate. But if it will get you away from your scumbag of a husband a little faster, how can I say no? “I’m glad to help,” she said instead. “Now, does your husband know you want a divorce?”
Fresh panic seemed to seize Kayla’s body—she tensed visibly. “God, no. He’ll kill me.”
April knew enough about women like Kayla to realize she wasn’t exaggerating. So she spoke calmly, hoping to calm Kayla as well. “We’ll come up with a plan for telling him, preferably on the phone, after you have someplace else to stay. But first, as I said, I’ll need to speak with my colleague—then we’ll talk about how to move forward. Does that sound okay?”
Kayla nodded.
And April began to feel a little relaxed, perhaps for both of them. Or maybe she was just tired. And hungry. And now that she felt their business had officially concluded . . . “You know,” she said, “I’m really starving, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to order dinner. You’re more than welcome to join me if you’d like.”
As before, Kayla glanced nervously around the bar, which April realized had begun to get more crowded just in the few minutes since they’d started talking. Why was Kayla so paranoid? Did people here know her? Or her husband? Maybe it hadn’t occurred to Kayla that April would stand out in the crowd so much in her professional attire, possibly drawing more attention to them than Kayla had bargained for.
“Or if you need to leave,” April added, wan
ting to give her an easy out, “that’s no problem at all.”
Kayla glanced to a clock behind the bar before she said, “Um, I guess I can hang out for a few more minutes.”
* * *
Rogan Wolfe sat at the bar nursing a beer. The pretty girl behind the bar—who couldn’t have been a day over twenty-two—was making conversation, asking him questions about his job as a police officer, but she was too young for him. He’d never used to pay attention to things like that, but he guessed things had changed lately.
Maybe he was finally growing up.
Or maybe it was about Mira.
Mira was an old girlfriend whose heart he’d once broken—and she’d returned the favor last summer. It hadn’t been her fault, and though he’d never really talked to anyone about it, the truth was that he’d spent quite a bit of time after that pining for her. Another first: Rogan Wolfe, pining for a woman. He’d pined, in fact, until he’d realized he needed to make a change—a big one. He’d needed to get out of Charlevoix, Michigan, the same small lakeside town where they’d both lived—and he’d needed something exciting to take his mind off her. So he’d come down to Miami to visit his friend Colt, and he’d applied for a job at the Miami Police Department while he was here. A month later, he’d turned in his Charlevoix badge and started patrolling South Beach.
And the change had been exactly what he needed. Miami was hot sun, hot music, hot girls—and action, action, action. Around the time he’d last seen Mira, he’d begun to think that the point had finally arrived in his life when he needed more than just a pretty face and a smokin’ body; he’d started thinking he actually wanted a little substance in a relationship, someone he could envision a real future with. But thanks to how things had ended with her, that notion had been short-lived.
He’d tried to commit emotionally to Mira—and he’d ended up feeling kicked in the teeth by the experience. So it had been easy to decide he’d been doing things right in the first place—right for him anyway—by keeping things light and hot and fun when it came to women. And that’s what he intended to do from now on. And Miami Beach was the perfect place for light and hot and fun.
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