by Kylie Parker
Man Candy: A Fake Marriage Romance
Fire & Ice Romance Series
Kylie Parker
Copyright © 2018 by Kylie Parker
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.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18.
Contents
Stay In Touch With Kylie Parker
Join Kylie Parker’s Mailing List
READER DEDICATION
Man Candy Book Description:
1. Alexa
2. Dylan
3. Dylan
4. Alexa
5. Alexa
6. Dylan
7. Dylan
8. Alexa
9. Alexa
10. Dylan
11. Alexa
12. Dylan
13. Alexa
14. Alexa
15. Dylan
16. Alexa
17. Dylan
18. Alexa
19. Dylan
20. Alexa
21. Dylan
22. Alexa
23. Dylan
24. Alexa
25. Dylan
26. Alexa
27. Dylan
28. Alexa
29. Dylan
30. Alexa
31. Dylan
32. Alexa
More Book From Kylie Parker
Stay In Touch With Kylie Parker
Join Kylie Parker’s Mailing List
READER DEDICATION
More Book From Kylie Parker
Stay In Touch With Kylie Parker
Please follow me on Facebook:
My Website: http://facebook.com/kylieparkerromance
Click here to join Kylie Parker’s Newsletter and receive an exclusive steamy billionaire romance in your inbox for free.
Before I forget…
Click here to join Kylie Parker’s Playhouse on Facebook to stay in the know for free giveaways, exclusive chapter releases, contest and steamy bad boy romances!
READER DEDICATION
You’ll notice each of these books have a special “Pink Ribbon” on the book covers.
This is a special dedication to cancer patients world wide fighting the good fight.
I’ve lost a lot with family, friends and strangers who have been impacted by cancer and this “Pink Ribbon” symbolizes our war cry to end this disease.
I’ve written these books so we can get lost in something outside of real world problems.
Now let’s ease the pain of cancer.
Come get lost with me in this book and take up your “Pink Ribbon” as a war cry.
Turn the page…
Man Candy Book Description:
Dylan Hawke—Rich, bad boy, relying on daddy's money to play, travel and womanize. Black hair, blue eyes, tall, muscular, smartass. Deep down he is actually a nice guy who is insecure and therefore always does the leaving before he can be left. His dad threatens to cut him off if he doesn't marry a “good girl.” Dylan loves fast cars and secretly dreams of racing stock cars, but his father forbids it because it isn't a worthy job. Dylan rebels at every turn against his father's strict ways. He owns a large mansion that is sparsely furnished because he is rarely there. He is set to inherit his father's massive real estate holdings and has completed a business degree at Harvard, although he skated by and didn't pay attention.
Alexa Jenkins-- Is attending law school after getting her bachelors. She is working her way through law school. It is taking her longer than the typical seven years because she must work full time as an assistant to a high powered lawyer to pay her way through school. Alexa is petite, blonde hair, blue eyes, pretty, but hides it in frumpy clothes and little makeup most of the time. She is smart. She has no family in the world, having come up in the foster care system. She likes cooking in her free time. Has never been anywhere due to a lack of funds. She has had few boyfriends because she is focused on her career. Tends to be shy unless provoked and then she can be very opinionated.
Dylan runs into Alexa at a coffee shop. He has already dated several women, none are worthy of marriage. He offers to get Alexa an interview with a high powered law firm if she will go out with him. They go on a couple of dates—he explains his need to get married ASAP. He offers to pay for her education as well as her first year of living expenses if she will marry him and remain married for at least three years. After that, they divorce, he inherits and they can go on their merry way. They fall in love, but neither are willing to admit it....
1
Alexa
With one last glance in the mirror, I declare myself perfectly frumpy. I know, I know, not exactly how most women get ready for a big meeting with some fat cat client, but I want this dude to notice by brain, not my boobs. Some people feel blessed by their looks and of course I do most of the time, but when you are trying to be taken seriously, beautify can be a real bitch.
Grabbing the glasses I can only compare to something straight out of Sally Jesse Raphael's closet, I slide them on my face to complete my look. The lenses are clear. It's all about hiding. The beige skirt and too-big green button-up top hide the curves that have not worked to my advantage in the past. Well, advantage yes, but I am not the kind of girl who wants to use her body to get ahead. I had learned a hard lesson long ago about mixing sex with my career. Been there, done that and am not going back down that very dangerous road.
Once I put on the shoes that look like they came from my grandmother's closet, I'm ready. It's only a short walk to the coffee shop and then I can walk to work. One day if I make partner or even manage to have more than three bucks in my bank account on payday, I'll buy a car. Goodbye public transportation and walking in the hot sun.
I shove open the door to the coffee shop, rushing in and praying there isn't a long line. The thought of not having coffee is far too terrifying. I will all out run to work if there is a line before I skip it.
“Good morning, Alexa!” my favorite barista greets me. “I had a feeling you would be late. I have your coffee ready to go.”
“Thank you, Anna. You are a Godsend. One of these days I'm going to surprise you and show up early,” I joke.
Anna laughs. We both know the odds of me being early are slim to not a chance in hell. As I walk to the register to pay, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This is that sense that self-defense instructor told all of us women never to ignore.
I spin around, scanning the room, trying to figure out what had set my spidey senses off. There's a man in the corner by the window wearing what has to be a very expensive suit, staring at me. His eyes are practically tearing my clothes away. I can feel him sizing me up. Not creepy at all, dude. I stare back into those dark chocolate eyes, hoping he will look away now that he's been caught. While I defiantly stare, I take advantage of the act to really get a good look at the man who is panty-dropper gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome doesn't even come close to describing him. I dare him to keep looking at me, leveling my gaze and doing my best to appear angry and aloof.
It doesn't work. Instead, he looks directly at me—challenging me. Telling me with his eyes that he doesn't care I caught him ogling. I put a hand on my hip, turn up my no
se and turn my focus back on Anna. I feel as if I have jumped off a merry-go-round and the room is spinning after my little stare down with the mystery man.
I start a running dialogue in my head about the man who has made my morning a little more interesting. Oh my God. Creepy but hot, I think to myself.
“I'd do him,” Anna whispers, handing me my drink.
I gasp, feigning shock, then lean in, “Me too,” I whisper back. “I'd use that expensive tie to secure him to my bed, rip that fancy suit off him and then ride him he until he couldn't see straight.”
Anna was looking at me with horror. I took it too far. Dammit. We had joked around in the past, but maybe it was TMI for her.
“I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't mean to embarrass you,” I quickly apologize, feeling my face turn twelve shades of red.
She squeaked, but didn't say a word. I grab my drink spin around and the damn thing explodes when I smash it into the chest of the man I had just been fantasizing about.
“Swallow me whole,” I silently scream to the universe. “I'm sorry,” I manage to murmur. “I didn't know you were there.” It is then I realize what had Anna so completely horrified. “You've been there?” I manage to get out, trying my best to will the floor to open up and swallow me.
He looked at me, slowly nodding, never breaking eye contact.
I turn back to Anna, who had covered her open mouth with a hand, her eyes wide.
“I, uh, I, I...”
Seriously, what could I possibly say to this man. I grabbed a stack of napkins, push them into his chest and run out the door. Never going back there again. I'll have to find somewhere else to get my morning latte. I don't think I have ever made such a complete fool of myself. Sure, I've done some pretty stupid things, but that little display takes the cake.
It was then I remembered the latte explosion and look down, “Crap!” My blouse was covered in brown liquid. I scan the street, see a secondhand store and quickly go in. It was slim pickings, but I manage to find a pretty pink blouse that is my size. I am going to have to break my rule and wear a top that actually flattered my figure. Hopefully, no one would notice.
I glance down at my phone to discover I have about fifteen minutes to get to my meeting. I pay for the shirt, grimacing at the extra money spent and run down the block to the building where my firm holds the top three floors of space. One day, I was going to have an office on the top floor. For now, I was one of the little guys working my way up—very slowly.
“Hi, Earl,” I say to the security guard before darting into the bathroom on the bottom floor. I was unbuttoning my shirt before I closed the door behind me. Yanking the tag off the pink shirt, I slide it on. It's actually a very pretty blouse and one I could see myself wearing once I officially make it and can reveal the fact I do have breasts. Plus, it only cost me five bucks, which is not all that bad.
Tucking it in my skirt, I check my reflection in the mirror, “No!” The shirt fit a little too perfect. Oh, did I mention I was wearing my black lacy bra? The pale pink shirt made it very obvious I was wearing a dark bra. I stretch my arms up and then to the side.
Okay, as long as I don't move my arms, the shirt wouldn't stretch and become sheer enough to reveal my guilty pleasure—expensive bras and panties. I had to hide my body and looks everyday I was at work to be taken seriously, but, I'm still a girl who likes to feel sexy. I want to feel good, even if I have to look like a frumpy old woman.
One last check in the mirror and I have to call it good. I have exactly eight minutes to get upstairs. I make it to the elevator just as the doors are sealing closed.
“Dammit. Really? What did I do?” I grumble under my breath. I tap my foot, waiting for the second elevator to spread its doors, inviting me in. Nothing. I check my phone and realize I am now down to five minutes. I can't wait. It's the stairs for me. Call it my cardio workout for the day.
Twelve flights later, I burst through the door of my floor. Who was I fooling? There wasn't a chance in hell I was going to make it in time. My ass is on fire, my quads feel like jelly and I am sweating like a pig.
“Alexa!” one of the junior partners hisses at me. “You're late. Get in here, now!”
I open my mouth to ask for a minute to visit the ladies room, but the jerk had already disappeared into the conference room. Taking a very brief moment to smooth back the little wisps of hair that had fallen loose from the bun I had pulled my blonde hair into. I probably look as rough as I feel. I can feel the sweat pooling between my breasts, which means I would be all dewy—not a good look.
I remind myself looking like a hot mess is okay. I don't want to impress the client with my looks. I smile. I was certainly not going to have the men falling at my feet in my current state. I think it is safe to say my dishevelment will actually work to my advantage.
2
Dylan
I had to take a minute to myself after the coffee shop situation. It isn't often I find myself ready to go cave man, knock a woman over the head and drag her back to my cave, but there was something about her that made me want to do just that.
When the mystery woman walked in the door, something about her caught my eye. I can't pinpoint what it is, but I'm drawn to her. It was the way she sashayed in the door with such confidence that first grabbed my attention. Her outfit belied that confidence, immediately intriguing me. A woman who knew she was attractive had that walk, like this little vixen. This lady dressed like an aging librarian who was considering the nunnery. That part of me who loves a good challenge quickly took notice. I want to know what's underneath. What makes her tick.
When my phone rang, I was forced to take my attention away from her in order to get moving. I had hoped to grab a couple of napkins and be on my way. Hearing her talk about tying me to her bed had nearly made me embarrass myself right in the middle of the coffee shop. I only wished I had gotten her name. I was more than willing to fulfill her fantasy.
My mind replays the coffee shop scene over and over. Sitting in the stuffy conference room was exactly what my racing libido needed. Every time the vision of me in her bed naked and being ridden hard popped up, I only had to look around the room. I was surrounded by men in suits, falling all over themselves to impress me.
My coffee girl fantasy refused to disappear from my mind. It's then I notice the personal assistant wearing a too-short skirt. She is starting to look better and better. Anything to ease the raging desire. I imagine I could probably shove her in some tiny, windowless office, fuck her hard and fast to get rid of the blue balls the librarian had left me with. It is an idea that may come to fruition if this meeting doesn't get going. If I have to sit and fantasize about that woman another minute, that little black skirt is going to be around that assistant's waist.
A commotion at the door draws my focus from the long legs that disappeared into that little black skirt to the hot mess walking through the door. It was her! Lord have mercy. The blood rushes from my brain straight below my waist. I softly moan and pull my suit jacket closed, trying to hide the hard-on that popped up out of nowhere. The woman was dangerous.
“You made it,” the head partner of the firm says, not trying to hide his irritation. I couldn't look away. She had changed her shirt. Unlike the ugly green shirt she had on at the coffee shop, this one fit and revealed her slim waist and full breasts. I stare at the breasts, straining the buttons on that gauzy shirt and am blessed with a glimpse of black. She was wearing a black bra. Another low moan escapes.
“Can I get you some water Mr. Hawke?” the assistant says, stepping into view.
“No, thank you,” I manage to mutter.
I can't stop looking at the woman who is opening a briefcase and quickly collecting paperwork. My gaze focuses on that little thread of black visible above the open collar. I can see a fine sheen of sweat covering her chest. My mind instantly goes to her in my bed, glistening from the exertion of our foreplay.
The head partner clears his throat, “I think we're ready to begin.”
“Alexa, I would like to introduce you to our newest client. You will be at his disposal, with myself and Mr. James as lead counsel,” the man starts. I can't tear my eyes away from her, waiting for the moment she looks at me. “Mr. Dylan Hawke, this is Alexa Jenkins.”
She extends her hand, looks away from her boss and focuses those pretty blue eyes on me. Our eyes meet and I swear I can see an electric charge sparking between us. The moment she recognizes me her face turns the most beautiful shade of red. I smile. I won. She thought she had escaped. Not even close. I had her now. As her boss said, she is at my disposal and I plan to use it to my advantage.
