Playing with Temptation

by King, Kelsey

  Playing with Temptation

  Copyright © 2018 Kelsey King

  authorkelseyking.com

  * * *

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Subscribe to my newsletter to be kept updated on all cover reveals, release dates, giveaways, free books, & more!

  Sign-up Here

  Contents

  1. Branson

  2. Riley

  3. Branson

  4. Riley

  5. Branson

  6. Riley

  7. Branson

  8. Riley

  9. Branson

  10. Riley

  11. Riley

  12. Branson

  13. Riley

  14. Branson

  15. Riley

  16. Branson

  17. Riley

  18. Riley

  Epilogue

  Preview of Mountain Man’s Fake Fiancée

  I. Synopsis

  1. Tate

  2. Brianna

  About Kelsey King

  Books by Kelsey King

  Free Book Offer

  Newsletter

  1

  Branson

  When Lisa, the Creative Director of BPC Advertising, messaged me about firing a rookie designer, I requested to do it myself. For the last decade, I’ve worked my ass off to create one of the most acclaimed ad agencies in New York City, and whatever has Lisa so riled up needs to be addressed personally. Not often do I take it upon myself to do the hiring and firing, but today is different. I lean back in my chair and wait as Riley Harper makes his way to my office. I envision a scared designer, whimpering for mercy after I give him a piece of my mind, but when she walks in, I realize how wrong I was.

  For some reason, I thought Riley Harper would be a man.

  Instead, I’m faced with a sassy, young woman with a gaze that pierces straight through me. Dark chocolate-brown hair is pulled into a high ponytail allowing me to see the smirk planted on her face. Judging from the length, her hair would hang to her waist when she let it down. For a moment, I wonder what it’d feel like to run my fingers through her hair. Faded skinny jeans hug her legs and hips. A bright red blouse hangs loosely over her frame, and I can’t stop imagining the small hills and valleys that hide beneath.

  Emerald-green eyes are full of determination as she watches me intensely. As she takes a seat, not a single word is exchanged between us. She’s sizing me up, and I wish I could read her mind. I lift an eyebrow at her as I open the email Lisa forwarded to me.

  Riley is fierce, and confidence oozes from her. The part that intrigues me about her the most is the way she sits so cool and confidently in front of me with skin as pale and smooth as bone china. Riley Harper is not a man.

  I pull up the design that offended Lisa, surprised to find desire course through my veins when my eyes briefly meet Riley’s again.

  I search her face, waiting for a hint, wondering if she’d felt it too, but she gives nothing away. I’m a force to be reckoned with in the advertising world, and I’m used to designers eager to please me. Her defiance is a breath of fresh air. Already, Riley Harper has my attention.

  As a test, Lisa always gives new designers a challenging project during their first week at the firm. Riley was given the latest Martinez campaign, which is one of our biggest clients. Martinez is famous for their high heel shoes worn by fashion designers, royalty, and actresses. Oprah, the Kardashians, and even Princess Kate strut Martinez at social events. They’re more comfortable than a Jimmy Choo or Manolo Blahniks, with a comparable price tag.

  Glancing at the design on my screen I try my best to hide my expression. It’s completely different from anything we’ve done before, and I understand why Lisa had such a strong reaction.

  “This is your design?” I ask trying to sound non-partial as I move my monitor around where she can see it. It’s almost as if she created this as a joke, as a way to poke fun at the agency, but when I look into her eyes, she’s dead serious. Before I fire her, I give her a chance to explain herself. I want to know the inner workings of her thoughts behind this concept that’d more than likely get our Martinez contract canceled in a heartbeat.

  “Yes.” Riley nods firmly. There’s no sign of apology in her eyes.

  “And you believe this is appropriate?” I ask stunned.

  Riley slowly shakes her head before she lets out a soft laugh, shocking me even further. The sound is melodious, and her smile lights up her whole face.

  “Appropriate? That’s really the word you want to use?”

  I’m amused by her, but I’m still to be respected, especially in my building and in my office. “Do you really want to use that tone?”

  “I’m getting fired either way, so I might as well have my say and be myself.” The laughter stops and her eyes harden, but a light flickers behind them.

  “Then let’s hear it.” I sit back and cross my arms. She might be the only entertainment I get today considering I’ve got deadlines upon deadlines at the moment.

  “All the designs you’ve created for Martinez has revolved around sex. You can’t even deny it. Women in lingerie wearing Martinez heels. Women in sexy black dresses. With each and every one of the designs, you’ve stuck to the age-old concept that ‘sex sells', and I’m not selling sex. I’m selling comfort and an innuendo, which some people like Lisa find highly offensive. Unfairly so, if you ask me.” She intertwines her fingers and places them on her crossed leg. I watch her jaw tighten, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say her nerves finally got the best of her.

  I glance back at the design and try to see what she sees. Instead of a beautiful supermodel, I study the stark white background with a single six-inch red stiletto on it. At the top, in a bold cursive font reads: Because size does matter…

  At the bottom is a short tagline: Martinez… comfort and style in your size.

  “This is… I don’t know. I can’t imagine they’ll go for it. I’m not even sure I would.” She does have a point about it being different from anything we’ve ever offered them.

  Riley sighs and points at the screen. “Look at it, Mr. Carter. To women, it means comfort and style in a design that will suit their shoe size. It’s the ultimate shoe. For the last twenty years, Martinez has banked on the idea of being the shoe for every woman. To men, it’s a play on words and innuendos which will get their attention. You’ll get your desired results, if not more guaranteed. Also, you’re marketing to both women and men in a more classy manner. I firmly believe this design will achieve visibility, shock, awe, and sales, which will directly affect your bottom line. Isn’t that what this is all about?”

  I study her carefully, watching the tick of her heartbeat throb in her neck. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s so passionate about this, that I see a sliver of myself inside her. When I first started this business, I wanted controversial. I wanted to be edgy, and that’s how I built my clients so quickly. Hearing Riley talk about this, trying to convince me, makes me realize how far I’ve come from the foundation that I built my company on. I’m lost in my thoughts as I stare at the stiletto and the silence drones on. “Why can you truss up a woman in sexy lingerie, soft lighting, and throw on a pair of heels, and tell them it’s a fantasy come true but you can’t say size does matter? Isn’t that a double standard?” she finally asks, waiting for my response.

  “It’s not a double standard, it’s Martinez expectation. Sex and shoes, it’s what sells, and it’s what has sold their product for the last decade.”

&nbs
p; “Maybe it’s not their expectation, but yours. It’s old and played out. I actually expected more from you,” she says.

  For the next few minutes, we argue back and forth about the design and why it won’t work. For each objection I have, Riley has an even better reason why I’m wrong. For someone who’s used to telling everyone else why their ideas are incorrect, it’s nice to have the same in return. In this business, a person grows in their craft and becomes better with criticism, but over the last ten years, no one has dared to argue with me, until now.

  I started this company when I was a freshman in college, working from a small laptop on the kitchen table in my tiny apartment. Through the years it’s become the largest ad agency in New York. People respect and admire me, but very few disagree with me. I’m known for my innovation, creativity, and for continually pushing the envelope. As this fresh-out-of-college girl sits in front of me, telling my ideas and thoughts are old, I realize how out of touch I’ve become.

  A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth and I feel invigorated arguing with Riley. I rub my chin with my index finger and thumb and know Riley’s got a point. A shocking ad campaign could spike sales and gain more visibility than another model in underwear wearing Martinez heels. The only issue I have is actually having Martinez sign off on the idea. I’ve seen stranger things happen, but this is out of their realm, different than anything they’ve ever done. The thoughts and ideas about the new branding we could offer them comes flooding in, and the only thing that pulls me away from the excitement is Riley’s sultry voice.

  “So I’m fired, aren’t I?” She finally asks after we sit in complete silence for a few minutes.

  I glance back at the design then at Riley. She stands, licks her lips and begins to walk out.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “To apply at the newspaper. Maybe I can make ad sets for the local grocery store,” she says before opening the door.

  “Riley. Sit.”

  She turns and looks at me, no expression on her face, but she licks her pouty lip. The unspoken attraction practically pulls her back to me. She walks back to the chair, and I study her curves, and all I can think about is kissing that feisty mouth.

  “Riley… isn’t that a boy’s name?” I ponder out loud.

  Riley shrugs and smiles. “My parents were expecting a boy. Instead, they got me.”

  Easy laughter erupts from my throat at her casual answer and sexy smile. “I imagine they were shocked?”

  “They were. I shocked them even more when I preferred baseball to ballet. I was a bit of a tomboy.”

  The thought mulls over in my mind, and I wonder if that’s why she came in here dripping confidence like she just showered in it. She scoots the chair closer to my desk and rests her arms on it. I watch her chest rise and fall. Riley Harper may be one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve seen.

  “Tell me, Riley, what do you suggest I do?” I sit back, cross my arms over my broad chest and watch her.

  Riley looks at me, blush hitting her cheeks, then she stands up. Walking over to the glass-paned wall of my office on the 35th floor, she looks out. The sun is setting, casting an ethereal glow of purple and blue over Manhattan. I glance at my watch and notice we’ve been arguing for more than an hour and it’s close to six. Anyone else would’ve probably quit after the things that’ve been said, but not Riley. She has too much passion for her work, something this company needs.

  I imagine going to her and framing her hips with my hands before pulling her against me to feel my arousal. Will she retreat, or will she turn and kiss me with that sassy mouth of hers?

  “I think you need to show it to your clients.” Riley’s voice pulls me out of the fantasy and back to the present. “At least demonstrate you can do something different from girls in thongs. If they don’t like it, you can always go back to the same old boring underwear models. Tomorrow is a preliminary meeting, a perfect time discuss the new direction of the campaign. Give them a chance to see something different and let them make up their minds.”

  “And if they hate it, it affects the reputation of BPC Advertising. I won’t let rookie designers influence my reputation, Riley.” My voice sounds harsh, even to my own ears.

  She turns around and places her hands on her hips. “It’s not a bad design Mr. Carter, it’s just different. Something you pride yourself on being in this industry. Maybe your reputation was wrong after all, and you’re not the designer your biography makes you up to be.” Riley turns back to the studying the skyline of New York as if dismissing me in my own office.

  My temper snaps and sizzles, eager to be set free. Instead, I ask her in a calm tone of voice, “How’s my reputation wrong?”

  “Your reputation precedes you Mr. Carter, but of course you know that. You’ve been known to be a pioneer in advertising, but from what I saw in that folder, it looks like you’ve been recycling old ideas and just slapping a skinnier model or a new font type on it. If you try to polish a turd, it’s still a turd.”

  I push away from my desk and move toward her, but in the space of five steps I know she’s right. The Martinez designs had been recycled, and maybe it was time to offer them something different. Riley is a force to be reckoned with, and her attitude lights a fire within me.

  I have a feeling she’s going to be trouble, but as I watch her stand confidently in front of the windows, I’ve never wanted trouble more.

  2

  Riley

  Since my freshman year in college, I’d dreamed of working at BPC Advertising. It’s the best agency in the business and getting a job with them is harder than finding a needle in a haystack.

  But I did it. And now I’m in the CEO’s office on my first day after offending the Creative Director.

  I wait for him to tell me I’m dismissed or fired. Instead of intimidating me, his deep voice intrigues me. This was not what I had in mind when I stepped into Branson Carter's office. I imagined being fired by an old man, not debating with someone I’m instantly attracted to. I stand and look out the window. After a minute passes, I can sense he’s standing behind me.

  “This is what we’ll do.” His voice is silky smooth. “You’ve got a choice. Either design something new for the meeting tomorrow in line with their current campaigns or present this design. But know this Riley, if they ditch this idea you will be searching for a new job.”

  “Fine,” I mutter as butterflies flit about in my tummy. I had come this far, I wasn’t backing down now. “I’m not designing anything else.”

  “You’re confident they’re going to like this?” he asks, acting as if he’s shocked I won’t consider an alternative.

  I fling around, determined to show him he doesn’t intimidate me, but I didn’t realize how close he was until our bodies almost crash together. I lift my chin to meet his blue gaze.

  “I’m confident they’re going to like it. If they don’t, I’ll be happy to search for a new job.” I keep my tone flat and confident.

  Even though his tailored suit, I can see his build. Broad shoulders lead down to narrow hips. His ink-black hair is messy on his head, and I want to rub my fingers through it. As he steps closer, I refrain from audibly gasping. He has the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

  A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. “Your arrogance and determination might be admired by some, but it could cost you your job.”

  For a moment I think I see admiration in his eyes before they harden once again. I smile confidently, ignoring my hammering heart. “In this case Mr. Carter, I guarantee my arrogance and determination is going to make you a lot of money.”

  My gaze travels to his lips; I wonder what it would feel like to kiss such a powerful man. The scent of his cologne drifts to me, citrus with a musky undertone, and it causes my mouth to water. It isn’t too overpowering, just strong enough to entice me to take a deep breath and inhale more of him.

  Our gazes meet and hold for what feels like an eternity. I can feel my nipples harden
against the confines of my lace bra as his eyes search mine. I find nothing in his gaze, although it feels like he’s looking deep into my soul.

  My cheeks bloom a bright red and my pulse races at the sound of his deep voice. His face is strong with a chiseled jaw. Thick black eyebrows guard his blue eyes that are watching me from even blacker eyelashes. His lips are thin but perfectly sculpted. His chin as a slight cleft as if it was chiseled in as an afterthought. He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  I step back knowing if I don’t I might make a fool of myself and get fired for sexually harassing my boss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Sleep tight, Riley.” Mr. Carter says in a deep voice that sends shivers down my spine.

  As I walk out of his office, I sigh audibly. How much worse could my first day have gone? My boss hates me, my boss’s boss just made it clear I’d probably be fired tomorrow, and on top of all of that, I can’t stop imagining what it would feel like to kiss Branson Carter.

  I walk into the boardroom with the design printed on canvas and set in on the easel in the front of the room. Even though I believe in my work, it doesn’t minimize the nerves that have been twitching and snapping all night long, keeping sleep at bay. After I cover the easel with a blank sheet I head to my seat in the back of the room, I know I won’t be welcome at the grown-up table today.

  If Martinez doesn't like my design, it will mean my dream job lasted an entire twenty-four hours before it crashed and burned. That will look horrible on my portfolio and I’m sure will raise more questions than what it’s worth. I take a deep breath, and notice Lisa and Mr. Carter are having a heated debate in the hallway. Remembering her disapproval of my outfit yesterday I glance down and hope my clothes meet her standards today.