Copyright © 2015 Chanel Cleeton
Cover image © conrado/Shutterstock
Author photograph © Christina Osborne Photography
The right of Chanel Cleeton to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Published by arrangement with InterMix,
A member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,
A Penguin Random House Company
First published in this Ebook edition in 2015
by HEADLINE ETERNAL
An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4722 2980 9
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Praise for Chanel Cleeton
By Chanel Cleeton
About the Book
Prologue
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
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Got a taste for scandal?
Find out more about Headline Eternal
About the Author
Romance novels and politics are two of Chanel Cleeton’s greatest passions. What better than to combine them? Chanel received a bachelor’s degree in International Relations from Richmond, The American International University in London and a master’s degree in Global Politics from the London School of Economics and Political Science. She’s also a graduate (survivor) of law school – she earned her J.D. from the University of South Carolina School of Law. A summer cruise in the Caribbean changed Chanel’s life when she met and fell in love with a fighter pilot. One happily ever after later, she’s currently living an adventure with her husband and three pups.
Find Chanel online at www.chanelcleeton.com, follow her on Twitter @ChanelCleeton, and Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorChanelCleeton.
Chanel Cleeton’s sizzling romances are scandalously addictive:
‘Flirting With Scandal by Chanel Cleeton has it all. A sexy hero, strong heroine, delicious romance, sizzling tension, and plenty of breathtaking scandal. I loved this book!’ Monica Murphy, New York Times bestselling author
‘Sizzling with sexual tension and political intrigue, Cleeton weaves a story that is as complex as it is sexy. Thank God this is a series because I need more!!’ Rachel Harris, New York Times bestselling author
‘Sexy, intelligent, and intriguing. Chanel Cleeton makes politics scandal-icious’ Tiffany King, USA Today bestselling author
‘Chanel Cleeton knocked it out of the park with Flirting With Scandal. The banter was refreshing, the political storyline captivating, and the sexual tension was through the roof. Smart, emotional, romantic, and sizzling hot’ Christina Lee, author of the Between Breaths series
‘Chanel Cleeton delivers again! Featuring a strong heroine, a steamy romance, and a juicy dose of political scandal, Flirting With Scandal is completely engrossing. Clear your calendars – you won’t be able to put this one down!’ Brenda St. John Brown, author of Swimming To Tokyo
‘Chanel Cleeton has done it again, once again weaving a beautiful and exciting world full of passion, intrigue, and emotion. Flirting With Scandal was an incredible story of politics, following your heart, and learning who you are in the midst of the overwhelming chaos around you’ Typical Distractions Book Blog
‘Scandal, sex, and politics all come together into one scorching and entertaining read’ Dirty Girl Romance
‘Provocative, sexy, witty, plus the perfect balance of drama and romance, and topped with lovable characters in this politically-charged setting … Sinfully sexy and deliciously scandalous’ The Reading Escapade
‘I still have a weakness for political gossip, swanky venues, and preppy (but sexy!) good boys. Chanel Cleeton channels all of this’ Heroes and Heartbreakers
‘One hot, sexy, politically charged, provocative and deliciously scandalicious read!! I absolutely LOVED this book and could not put it down’ Four Chicks Flipping Pages
‘A wild, emotional ride with two incredibly strong, charming characters that drew me in from the start … A sassy, sexy romance’ Not A Picky Reader
‘If real-life politics is as riveting as this, I may well pay more attention’ Smokin’ Hot Book Blog
‘What another sexy instalment in the Capital Confessions series … The perfect amount of sexual tension and steamy scenes, and not to mention just how forbidden it is’ Little Book Heaven
By Chanel Cleeton
Capital Confessions Series
Flirting With Scandal
Playing With Trouble
Falling For Danger
About the Book
Welcome to Washington, D.C., city of scandal, where no secret stays hidden for long …
Four years ago Kate Reynolds’ fiancé died on a Special Forces mission in Afghanistan. Ever since she’s been consumed with uncovering the truth, vowing to prove his death was no accident. The daughter of a notoriously high-profile senator, her new job as a CIA political analyst is a dream come true, and the chance to avenge the man she loved and lost.
Soon Kate’s on the brink of discovering what happened that fateful night. Her own life is now in danger and she’s stunned by the man who comes to her rescue. Together they must fight to stay alive as they’re dragged into a corrupt world of secrets and lies. When the threat hits terrifyingly close to home, will Kate choose vengeance, or the man who has ignited a fire inside her she thought would never burn again?
Want more sizzling chemistry and scandalous action? Don’t miss Books One and Two in the Capital Confessions series, Flirting With Scandal and Playing With Trouble.
Prologue
Kate
I stared out at the vast expanse of dark, the Chesapeake Bay inky black in the sticky July night. A loud boom sounded, followed by an explosion of color in the sky. Red. Blue. The scent of burning wood filled my nostrils, mixing with the salty air. Beer flowed freely from two enormous kegs, hot dogs cooking on the grill.
I sank down onto the blanket in the sand, hugging my bare knees to my chest, staring up at the fireworks.
Music and laughter blended together, the birthday party my older sister, Blair, had thrown for me at her boyfriend Thom’s house showing no sign of winding down.
I wasn’t sentim
ental about birthdays, never had been. Being born on July Fourth with a U.S. senator for a father, I’d quickly learned that there was no contest between America’s birthday and mine. My parents needed to be out shaking hands and kissing babies and getting my father reelected.
When we were younger, they’d dragged me and Blair along with them—two girls in matching red, white, and blue dresses, ribbons in our hair, smiling for photos and looking like miniatures of our parents—Blair’s dark hair like our mother’s, mine blond like our father’s. Only two years apart, we’d been bookends to the family photo op.
And then I’d hit eleven and that awkward stage—one that unfairly, Blair never seemed to reach—and started protesting having to spend my birthday smiling at strangers and behaving like a fucking doll. There went the family birthday celebrations. Which was fine, really. I had a bottle of beer next to me in the sand, a hot dog in my stomach, and one hundred of my closest friends—give or take fifty that were definitely total strangers.
What else could a girl want for her sixteenth birthday?
One more thing.
And he wasn’t here.
I turned back to the party, scanning the group behind me for what felt like the millionth time that night. My gaze ran over the crowd, settling for a moment on Blair and her boyfriend, Thom, sweeping back again …
Still not here.
I wasn’t totally surprised. He was spending the summer working for his father’s security firm in D.C. He’d had to work today, but said he would drive down when he got off. Still, the traffic would be brutal, especially with the holiday. Besides, it wasn’t like he was my boyfriend or anything. It was a lot of trouble to go to for a friend’s birthday—even with a history as long as ours. But Matt Ryan had never made me a promise he didn’t keep, and I couldn’t believe he’d miss my sixteenth birthday.
I lay back on the blanket, watching the fireworks flicker overhead, my fourth beer blurring the colors a bit.
So he wasn’t here. It sucked, but whatever. It had still been a good birthday.
More lights. Boom. Hiss. Aaah. Back and forth. Over and over again.
And then the bright lights disappeared. I blinked and looked up.
Matt stood over me, blocking out the fireworks, wearing a pair of khaki shorts slung low on his hips and a blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled. A beer bottle dangled from his hand. His feet were bare.
He smiled down at me, the curve of his lips sending my heart careening to my stomach.
“Happy birthday.”
I sat up, trying to steady myself. We’d been friends practically my whole life; this shouldn’t have felt so weird. My palms shouldn’t be clammy, my heart racing, my throat tight.
“You came.”
I winced at how strained my voice sounded, all of the excitement and nerves clogging my throat leaving little room for words to escape.
“I couldn’t miss your birthday.” Matt crouched down so that we were eye level. I stared into his dark eyes, his brown hair waving with the light breeze that had picked up over the water.
My fingers itched to reach out and touch.
He had an athlete’s body, honed from years of playing soccer. It was a body that I’d seen shirtless on so many summers playing at the beach, and never felt a thing. But now, even clothed, I felt lots of things.
Matt sat down next to me on the blanket, bringing his long legs up in a pose mimicking my own—knees to chest, wrists resting on top of his legs. Given the extra eight inches he had on me, I doubted it was comfortable.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was crazy getting out of the city.”
“I figured.”
Why was it so hard to talk to him now? It was like all of my words had frozen up. I sat there on the blanket feeling like an idiot, wondering if we’d ever have a chance at just being friends again. Did he notice how weird things were between us? Was it just me? Did he know that somewhere along the way I’d stopped seeing him as just a friend and started wanting so much more?
My cheeks flamed.
I tilted my head to the sky, staring up at the sparkling lights, the light breeze hitting my face as I tried to hide all of the emotion that lingered in my heart and eyes.
Matt set his beer down on the sand, adjusting on the blanket. A whiff of his cologne hit my nostrils and I felt a familiar set of butterflies in my belly. His leg grazed mine. I froze. Was that an accident? But if it was an accident, why was his thigh pressing into mine?
I sucked in air, not sure if I was trying to sober up the rest of the way or keep from passing out. His leg felt good against mine—warm, strong, somehow both reassuring and terrifying. My heart pounded in a mad beat.
I didn’t move, not wanting to break the connection between us, waiting to see where this was headed, if it was even headed anywhere. Desperately praying that it was headed where I so badly wanted it to go.
“You okay?” Matt asked.
I nodded, turning to face him, realizing how close we actually were. I swallowed, staring into his dark brown eyes. He hadn’t just moved his leg toward mine; he’d leaned into me so that we were only inches apart.
He smelled amazing.
My gaze trailed down, and I could barely resist the urge to attack his mouth. We’d grown up in the same circles; I’d heard girls talk about what a good kisser he was, had wondered what it would be like if I were in their place. I wanted his lips for myself now.
“Do you want your birthday present?” he asked, a smile on his face.
I wanted him.
This was a tradition we repeated every year. Matt gave the best presents—an old edition of my favorite book one year, an Eiffel Tower snow globe the summer he’d gone to France with his family that I still kept by my bed, the fact that he’d thought of me while he was on vacation feeling like everything.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
This, too, was a tradition, although this year the words sounded huskier, the promise of them, more.
I closed my eyes.
He took my hand and I jerked back, ready to jump out of my skin with that simple touch. He stayed still for a moment, as though easing me into it, and then I relaxed as he uncurled my fingers, opening my palm to the sky. He set something down and my fingers closed around a small round box.
My eyes slammed open.
My fingers shook slightly as I popped the lid on the box, the contents causing a hitch in my breath.
The necklace was beautiful—a round disc in gold, a “K” etched into the metal. My finger traced the letter, my brain scrambling to catch up.
He’d never given me a gift like this. His gifts were always quirky and fun, things that spoke to my personality. Friend gifts. This felt like something else entirely.
I looked up from the necklace, searching his gaze, wondering if I’d find the answers I needed there.
“Do you like it?” Matt asked, his expression uncharacteristically unsure.
I nodded, not quite trusting my voice.
“Do you want me to put it on you?”
I opened my mouth, about to say that there was no need and I could put the necklace on without help, when suddenly I realized that if he put the necklace on me, he’d be touching me.
Right.
“Sure.”
My voice shook a bit as I forced the word out, but if Matt noticed he was cool enough not to say anything.
He took the necklace from the box, shifting behind me. I lifted my hair off of my neck, a line of goose bumps rising over my skin as the breeze hit my bared flesh.
And then his fingers grazed me—holy crap—his touch warm, gentle, followed by the press of the cool metal against my neck. He fumbled with the clasp for a moment, his breath tickling my ear, his lips inches away from being on me.
I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted him to kiss me. As much as I wanted him.
He fastened the clasp, but instead of moving away, he leaned me back against his legs, our bodies touching, the scent of his cologn
e once again surrounding me.
“Is this okay?” he whispered, his lips grazing my lobe.
It was a good thing we were sitting, because I was fairly certain that my legs were wet noodles.
Okay? It was amazing, and at the same time, I was climbing out of my skin. My heart pounded like I’d just run a marathon; my palms way past clammy. One refrain played through my mind on repeat:
Kiss me kiss me kiss me.
If there hadn’t been two years between us, if he hadn’t been so hot, if the hot dog in my stomach wasn’t starting to feel like deadweight, and I hadn’t been so completely clueless when it came to guys, maybe I would have just kissed him then and there. But he was eighteen, and he was gorgeous, and likely could get any girl he wanted. He’d been my best friend since I was four; he’d accidentally broken my nose with an errant baseball when I was eight. He’d seen me at my best and worst, and always been there for me. And I definitely felt like I was going to throw up.
I was young, but I wasn’t stupid, and I could tell we stood on the edge of something new, but the thought of doing anything to alter our relationship when he was the one person in my life I’d always counted on scared the shit out of me.
Matt’s arm wrapped around me, settling me against his body. He leaned forward, resting his head against my shoulder, his mouth once again inches away from my face.
Kiss me kiss me kiss me.
He sighed against my back, and for the first time it hit me that he might be just as nervous as I was, wondering what the hell had changed in our relationship, and where we could go from here. Nothing had happened, but everything was different, the change flickering between us like the fireflies off in the distance.
Matt reached out, turning me to face him, holding my chin in his hand, tipping my face toward his.
Ohmigod.
Everything stilled as I froze this moment, clutching this memory to my chest; whatever happened next, I’d always have this—the possibility of us—to savor.
Our gazes locked onto each other, mine dipping for a second to look at his mouth at precisely the same time he said, “I love you, Kate.”
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