Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2)

by Savanna Fox

  Titles by Savanna Fox

  THE DIRTY GIRLS BOOK CLUB

  DARE TO BE DIRTY

  Titles by Savanna Fox writing as Susan Lyons

  SEX ON THE BEACH

  SEX ON THE SLOPES

  HEAT WAVES

  Dare to Be Dirty

  SAVANNA FOX

  HEAT | NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  Copyright © 2013 by Susan Lyons.

  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.

  HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  eBook ISBN 978-1-101-59569-5

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Fox, Savanna.

  Dare to be dirty / Savanna Fox.—Heat trade paperback edition.

  pages cm (Dirty Girls Book Club)

  ISBN 978-0-425-26297-9 (pbk.)

  I. Title

  PS3606.O95653D37 2013

  813'6—dc23 2012048948

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Heat trade paperback edition / July 2013

  Cover image of leather background © Shutterstock; cover image of belt © Shutterstock.

  Cover design by Danielle Abbiate.

  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 websites or their content.

  Contents

  Also By Savanna Fox

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Author’s Note

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  About the Author

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  When I conceived of the Dirty Girls Book Club, I hoped that each member would have a chance to enjoy her own sexy literary inspiration and her own erotic romance. In The Dirty Girls Book Club, when the club read historical erotica, marketing executive Georgia Malone found her unlikely soul mate in hockey star Woody Hanrahan. Now, in Dare to Be Dirty, it’s Kim Chang’s turn. The artist and confirmed city girl doesn’t believe that the words “cowboy” and “erotic” could possibly belong in the same sentence. She’s about to learn differently from the book club’s next selection—and the field trip to the rodeo where she sets eyes on sexy rodeo star Ty Ronan.

  Thanks to my editors at Berkley, Katherine Pelz and Wendy McCurdy, for helping me bring Kim and Ty’s story to life. Thanks also to my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim of Prospect Agency, for her belief in me and for always being there when I need her.

  Thanks to my critique partners, the members of my own book club, and others who’ve offered insight, information, and support: Nazima Ali, Elizabeth Allan, Doug Arnold, Kate Austin, Kate Denby, Nick Franson, Michelle Hancock, and Alaura Ross. Couldn’t have done it without you!

  If you enjoy Dare to Be Dirty, I hope you’ll check out my other titles at www.savannafox.com, where you’ll find excerpts, behind-the-scenes notes, recipes, a monthly contest, my newsletter, and other goodies.

  I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website at www.savannafox.com.

  One

  Kim Chang flung open the door of the Davie Street restaurant, juggling her backpack, the big bag from Opus, and a wet umbrella that refused to stay closed. Despite being what her cousin Peter referred to disparagingly as a flaky artist, she believed in traditional values like being on time. It was inconsiderate to keep the other book club members waiting. She should have known better than to go to Opus Art Supplies, where she always lost track of time.

  As the hostess led her to the back of the small room, Kim glanced around. When Georgia—called George by everyone except her fiancé—had said Laziza was Mediterranean, Kim hadn’t expected modern décor. Her artist’s eye approved of the blue lights and deep blue ceiling, but she’d add cloth napkins in another blue, rather than those plain white paper ones.

  George, Lily, and Marielle, an attractive bouquet of redhead, blonde, and brunette, had been there long enough to order drinks. Their usual white wine, martini, and fruity cocktail sat on the table.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Her unmanageable umbrella flipped open, showering all of them. “And now I’m totally humiliated. I could go out and start over?”

  Laughing, Marielle took the umbrella and battled it into submission. She looked vibrant as always, her curly dark hair and coffee-colored skin set off by a teal-colored tee over black jeans. “Why do we live in a place where it rains in August?”

  “But I love Vancouver,” Kim said. “The air’s so fresh.” Though she adored her hometown, Hong Kong, she didn’t miss its pollution. Since childhood she’d been in Vancouver a lot, and each time she arrived she sucked in huge, blissful gulps of air scented by deep blue ocean and white-capped green mountains. She felt a moment’s guilt for dissing Hong Kong, the beloved city she’d return to in a couple of months when she finished up the assignments that would complete her two years of art school.

  Man, she had a talent for guilt! Being late, the wet umbrella, now Hong Kong’s smog—she shoved all those things aside. “I need a beer.”

  “Of course you do.” George passed the drink menu. The marketing account manager was stunning, with her wavy red hair, creamy skin, and amber eyes, though her softly tailored suit and olive green silk blouse could have used a vibrant scarf or necklace for accent.

  Kim scanned the menu. Perhaps due to her tiny size, she had a low tolerance for alcohol and generally stuck to having a single beer. British Columbia had incredible designer ales, lagers, and beers and she loved experimenting. She ordered a Hophead India Pale Ale from Kelowna.

  Lily, the fourth member of their group, a married family practice doctor in her early thirties, put down her martini glass. Her khaki suit and white shirt were classy, but with her short, wheat-colored hair and light blue eyes she should be wearing blue and gold, peach and pink.

  “Kim, I love that top,” Lily said. “It’s one of your own designs?”

  “Yes, thanks.” She beamed and touched her ligh
t purple silk tee with its abstract silk-screened pattern in orange, deep purple, and black. The orange was echoed on her fingernails and in the streaks in her short, spiky black hair. “It’s based on the wings of the Question Mark butterfly.” Wings fascinated her: butterflies, dragonflies, birds.

  “You’re talented,” George said. “You could sell those.”

  “Oh, it’s just a tee.” Humility was ingrained, which was tough for an artist who had to learn to self-promote.

  “I’d buy,” Marielle agreed. “And that one with the purple butterflies you wore two weeks ago.”

  “You’re sweet. But clothing’s a hobby.” At the Emily Carr University of Art + Design, students worked with a variety of media, which Kim loved. Designing and making clothes for herself—picking fabric, sewing, adding paint or silk-screening—was fun, but it didn’t click as being her special thing.

  Still—a shiver of panic rippled through her—she had to stop playing and get serious. She had only two months to settle on one endeavor, one that was her special thing, and create a business plan for making a living from her art. A plan that would wow her parents. The alternative was to join Chang Property Management, the company her mom and dad had founded. Bringing her into CPM had been their goal since before she’d even been conceived.

  Kim had worked part-time there all her life. It wasn’t awful, just tedious. She couldn’t face a lifetime of it. Her passion was art, but, despite what her cousin said, she wasn’t flaky. She had a business brain and the degree to back it up. She was determined to create a career that excited her.

  Her parents didn’t understand passion. They were all about security and family solidarity. She knew they were humoring her with the art thing, confident that she’d realize it should only be a hobby. That she’d return home to do her duty, to honor not only her parents but her ancestors. Oh yeah, her folks were experts when it came to laying down a guilt trip.

  She brushed away the troubling thoughts. “It’s our night to choose a new book. The last one was good, but man, it took so much concentration to get through it. I could use another sexy one.” Since she’d broken up with Henry, the only sex she’d be getting in the foreseeable future would come from fiction.

  “I’m always up for sex.” Marielle gave a wicked grin. She was the one who’d suggested spicing up their selections with an occasional dirty book, and recommended an erotic historical novel, The Sexual Education of Lady Emma Whitehead.

  The sex scenes were arousing, and the book stimulated discussions about sex and relationships. Ones that made Kim reexamine her love life.

  Henry was from Hong Kong too, and their parents knew each other. When Kim came to Vancouver, the parents set up a meeting. Henry’d already been here a few months, working in his family company’s Vancouver office. Her parents had hoped that he, a few years older than Kim, would take care of her since they weren’t around to do it. His had wanted him to date someone from a respectable Chinese family, a girl who’d also be returning to Hong Kong. Honestly, their parents seemed to think the two of them might go wild if left to their own devices, but neither was that kind of person. They were both practical, responsible.

  Henry was a great guy and shared the same history and values. Kim had thought she loved him and imagined them returning home together and thrilling both sets of parents by getting married. But, gradually, she realized something was lacking. Still, fondness, loyalty—and habit, to be honest—had kept her with Henry.

  Then the book club read the erotic novel and George had a passionate romance with a sexy hockey star—and Kim realized her feelings for Henry weren’t strong enough for a happy marriage. There was something missing: that spark of passion.

  “I wouldn’t say no to sex.” George’s voice broke Kim out of her thoughts. The redhead was grinning. She sure didn’t need to rely on books for sexual stimulation, not since she’d hooked up with Woody, the man who’d put that topaz-and-diamond engagement ring on her finger.

  Kim turned to Lily. “I know you didn’t want to read erotica, but you ended up enjoying Lady Emma. How about a vampire book? Vampires are so erotic.” You could go with the fantasy, never worrying about how you’d actually get along with the guy day to day. Never finding out that what you’d taken for love would become ho-hum, and likewise for the sex.

  Lily’s fair brows arched. “Vampires? Kim, they’re dead. How can that possibly be sexy?”

  “Read, and you’ll find out.” But Kim wasn’t pushy, so she quickly added, “But I’m open to anything else the rest of you want.”

  “Cowboys,” Marielle said. “Those dudes are really, really hot.”

  “Cowboys?” the other three echoed questioningly.

  Then George’s lips curved again. “Okay, I can see it. An incredibly fit man on the back of a beautiful horse, shirt open at the neck, tanned skin.”

  “Faded jeans,” Marielle put in. “Leather chaps framing an excellent package.”

  Lily let out an amused snort.

  “Body moving in synch with the horse,” Marielle went on, “with a natural rhythm, so you can just imagine him in bed with you.” She winked. “Making you wet and riding you hard.”

  They all chuckled, then Lily said, “I admit, that’s a fun sexual fantasy.” She turned to Kim. “What do you think?”

  Honestly? That the words “cowboy” and “erotic” didn’t belong in the same sentence. A dusty, sweaty cowboy? Wearing boots with—God forbid—horse shit ingrained in them? She had only a vague notion of what cowboys did, based on a couple of Westerns she’d seen on dates, but none of it appealed to her. Herding smelly cows? Riding bucking broncs? Oh, please. She was a city girl. Always had been, always would be. She loved the cosmopolitan world where a woman could experiment with fashion, drink designer ale, study with incredible artists. Cowboy erotica was so not what she’d had in mind when she suggested reading another sexy book.

  But she’d been raised to be polite, and she’d joined the club to expand her literary horizons. If she could find dead guys sexy, maybe the same would hold true for dusty, sweaty, horsey ones. “If that’s what you all want, count me in.”

  Marielle pulled out her iPad. “I’ll look for books.”

  Kim sipped her beer, savoring the hoppy, slightly burnt sugar taste, until Marielle said, “How about this?” A white grin split her summer-tanned Jamaican skin. “It’s called Ride Her, Cowboy. A photojournalist is writing an article titled ‘The Modern-Day Heroes of the West,’ and goes along on a cattle drive where she falls madly in lust with the sexy head honcho. Look at the cover.” She turned her iPad toward them, so they could see the half-naked cowboy.

  “Sounds like fun,” George said.

  Lily rolled her eyes—she was the club member with the most highbrow taste—then said, “All right. I could handle some light entertainment.”

  “Fine,” Kim agreed. It was only a few hours out of her life. Besides, maybe the sex scenes would be so hot, she’d forget the guy was a cowboy and get some vicarious satisfaction. She sipped her lager. “Did you order appies?”

  “A Lebanese platter,” George affirmed. “Falafel, hummus, stuffed grape leaves, things like that.” She glanced at Marielle. “What are you doing?”

  The brunette was clicking away. “Aha, I found it.” She looked up. “This is why I had cowboys on the brain. On the radio this morning, I heard about a country fair and rodeo in the Fraser Valley this weekend.” Eyes dancing, she said, “Ladies, let’s go on a field trip.”

  Lily tilted her head. “You’re not serious.”

  Kim hoped the doctor was right. She had absolutely no desire to watch a bunch of big sweaty beasts—the horses, bulls, and the macho idiot cowboys.

  “George, take my side,” Marielle pleaded.

  “Well . . .” The redhead deliberated. “I condemned hockey without knowing anything about it, and I was proven wrong.”

  “Yeah, falling for Canada’s Mr. Hockey can have that effect on a girl,” Kim teased. “But you and Woody are eng
aged. You’re not going to hook up with some cowboy.”

  “I might,” Marielle said.

  Big surprise. Marielle was all about fun; she switched jobs and men as readily as Kim changed the color of her hair streaks. For Marielle, variety was the spice of life. For Kim, variety was great in art and fashion, but when it came to relationships she believed in loyalty, commitment, and the long term.

  George shot an amused glance at Marielle, then said to Kim, “No, I’m not going to hook up with a cowboy. I’m very happy with my fiancé.”

  Lucky her. Kim sensed that what George and Woody shared would really last.

  George said to Lily, “I’m just saying, it’s good to open yourself to new opportunities.”

  “Right,” Marielle affirmed. “You may be—what, thirty-two?—Doc Lily, but you’re way too young to be stuck in a rut.”

  Kim nodded. That was how she’d felt with Henry.

  Lily took a sip of her usual martini, frowning a little. When they’d formed the club early in the year, the blonde had tried to take charge. She was the oldest and had an established family practice, but more than that, she just had that kind of personality. The same as Kim’s parents: “I know best, so fall in line.” Lily had eased up lately, though, and was more willing to listen to others’ opinions. “You’re right,” she said. “Being open to new things is good. So, fine, if everyone wants to go to the rodeo, I’m in too.”

  “Woo-hoo!” Marielle lifted her girly cocktail and took a slug. Then she eyed Kim. “You’re in, right? It’ll be so much fun.”

  Sitting in the blazing sun in some outdoor arena way to hell and gone out in the country, smelling horses, sweat, and—to put it bluntly—shit? Her nose wrinkled. Oh yeah, heaps of fun.

  She could be making art, going out with friends—or getting her butt in gear and turning her mind to that business plan. But she liked to please others. Her only rebellions to date had related to her art. First, she’d persuaded her parents to let her study art for two years in Vancouver rather than going to work full time at CPM when she got her degree in business admin. Then, she’d got them to agree that, if she came up with a business plan, they’d seriously consider letting her pursue it. Of course, she didn’t think they actually believed she’d produce a reasonable plan. So far she’d proved them right.