by Everly, Liz
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AND NOTES
Special thanks to comic Johnny T. Sollitto for permission to use his joke and to cookbook author Monica Bhide for answering my questions about Indian culture and food.
I’d also like to thank my agent Sharon Bowers for believing in this story and in me—and for connecting me with Martin Biro, my editor, whom I adore. Having you two in my corner has been a wonderful experience.
I had a fabulous beta reader for this book—Madeline Iva—and countless hours of advice and companionship from Joanna Bourne. Thanks, ladies!
Of course, I’d like to thank my family and friends, especially my husband, Eric, and my daughters, who I hope won’t read this book until they are at least, oh, thirty or so.
While I have you, reader, I’d like to note that many of the specific locations in the book are real, but there are several imaginary ones, like Ramsha. Also, the mysterious “mix” is a pure figment of my imagination, although my research did show that there are many new designer drugs like this.
I think of this book as a sexy culinary flight of fancy. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. Please visit me at my website www.lizeverly.wordpress.com or where I blog at www.ladysmut.com. Please feel free to e-mail at [email protected].
Until next time, stay hungry.
Liz
Turn the page for a special preview of the next delicious erotic romance by Liz Everly.
CRAVINGS
An eKensington e-book original on sale November 2013!
Chapter 1
“What do you mean he’s not here?” Sanj said to the person Wbehind the hotel desk.
“I’m sorry, sir. We have his room. But he is not here,” she said in broken English. “I’m sure he will be along.”
He was supposed to meet Jackson here. And Jackson was a reliable kinda guy. The hair on Sanj’s neck pricked at him. Was Jackson okay? And where was Maeve? What mischief could they get into in Ecuador?
Something must have come up with a shoot. Jackson and Maeve were here working on a cookbook together. The only time Jackson had ever stood him up was when it was because of work, when he couldn’t pull himself away. He’d never even stood Sanj up for a woman. And Jackson had been quite the womanizer. Had been.
“Sir, might I suggest you refresh yourself in Sparkles,” the person behind the counter said. “I will leave a message for your friend.”
“Thank you,” he said. But a hotel bar and restaurant named Sparkles? He was in Guayaquil, the largest port city in this country. Nah, he needed to get outside and walk around a bit to find a decent meal. Maybe some good seafood.
But as he walked outside, a wall of sauna-like heat hit him. He looked around at the busy street, hoping to find a place not far from the hotel. He passed a pristine fountain; its pool looked clear and cool. He resisted the urge to take a plunge. His linen clothing clung to him. He was an Indian man, used to the heat—but this was a different kind of heat.
He sighed—tomorrow, the beach—with or without Jackson and Maeve. He kept walking until he spotted a yellow building that looked like an eatery.
When he walked into the tiny, dark, smoke-filled establishment, Cocina de Sol, he blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness. Was it a restaurant? A bar? He didn’t know. It was blessedly cool and he smelled seafood.
“English?” A host approached him.
Sanj nodded and was pleased to find the menu included translations. His Spanish was rusty.
After he was seated and had ordered a beer and lemon-spiced shrimp, he spotted an unusual looking woman standing at the bar. It was as if the smoke had cleared away just enough for him to see her white face.
She was the tallest woman in the place. And although her hair was dark, he was certain it was not her natural color. Her complexion was pale, the skin of a goddess. She almost shimmered. Where had he seen her before? Her large, heavy-lidded eyes met his gaze and she nodded, with a sultry smile. He smiled back at her. Two foreigners in this place? When you traveled, it was easy to sniff each other out.
The waiter brought his beer.
“Gracias,” Sanj said.
He sat back in his chair. Not wanting to think about the last time he’d been with a woman, he shifted his weight and tried to think of something else. Just one look at the woman made his balls tighten—what was he, eighteen again? For a man of his age, this was an unseemly reaction to a woman. And this woman was heading his way.
She walked with the bearing of a dancer—tall, slinky, confident. “May I join you?” She asked. British. Londoner. West Side?
“Please do,” Sanj said.
She caught the attention of the server, who brought her a drink.
“I’m Mary,” she said. Her lips were full and shaped like an old-fashioned doll’s lips, turned up. He imagined sliding himself right into them. Calm down, Sanj. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, and reached out to shake his hand.
Her deep brown eyes scanned him in a delightful, smoldering sweep. Sanj thought she liked what she saw.
Sanj smiled. “Sanj. I’ve just gotten into town.”
“Indian?” she asked, after sipping her cocktail.
He bit his lip and looked away for a moment. This woman was oozing sex. He was quite unsure what to do with himself.
He looked back at her and nodded. “You?”
“British, of course,” she said. “But I’ve been here a while. What brings you here?”
“Business,” Sanj said. Which wasn’t really true, but she didn’t need to know that.
She didn’t need to know that his friends were the famous husband-wife cookbook team here investigating cacao plantations to write a cookbook centered on chocolate. They’d invited him here because they said it was time for a break.
“You know we always need a little Sanj during our vacations,” Maeve had said to him on the phone a few weeks back.
But he suspected another reason for the invitation. He didn’t need their pity—and he was here to prove it. Fuck Jennifer. As he looked across the table at the stunning woman sitting here sipping her drink, he knew he was going to be just fine.
“Cacao?” Mary asked him.
He nodded. “Sort of.”
She smiled. “I get it. You don’t want to tell me too much. Okay. It’s kind of tricky in these parts.”
“What do you mean?” he said, trying not to look at her breasts, but they poked out of the red sundress she was wearing. It was a Vera Wang, he noted. His sister had the exact dress. His eyes wanted to rest there, but he resisted. He had a breast weakness. Jackson had teased him that he should get some help for it.
An indecent flash of Mary’s naked breasts played in his mind. What did they look like underneath that expensive dress? Would they have big nipples? Were they as round as they looked?
He crossed his legs. Get a grip, man.
She looked as if she were holding back a smile. Those full lips, one dimple on the left side, and tiny scar across her cheek. Sexy.
“I mean you don’t want people to know you’ve got money. But I can smell it on you,” she said, leaning forward, sort of pressing her breasts together to reveal more cleavage.
He laughed. And tried not to look at the white orbs poking out. Prostitute, he thought. That has to be it.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve never paid for companionship. And I never will.”
She sat back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “You underestimate me, sir.”
“Are you saying you’re not a prostitute? C’mon,” he said, as the server brought a plate of hot steaming shrimp to the table. The smell made him salivate. Damn, he was hungry. Then took a bite of it, which was so fresh and tender it almost brought him to tears. Remembering his manners, he gestured for her to have some. The plate was piled high.
“No, thanks, and I’m not a prostitute,” she said and smiled an odd, beleaguered smile. “Why would you assume that?”
Sanj shrugged and swallowed his bite of shrimp. “So what do you want with me?”
She lifted the glass to those lips and sipped her drink.
“What brings you here?” He asked, trying to keep his eyes from her breasts—and her mouth. Focus on the shrimp, he told himself, or you’ll be so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here.
“I’m looking for an old friend,” she said. “I heard she was in town.”
Sanj finished his beer, suddenly exhausted, overcome by jet lag.
“Another one, sir?” The server appeared as if on cue.
“No, thanks,” Sanj said, turning back to the last of his juicy shrimp. He’d eaten too quickly, like a starving man. The shrimp was so good—and he’d endured days of horrible airplane and airport food. He could go for dessert, but suddenly thought of bed. He needed it. What time would it be in India? What time zone was he in now? Oh, bother, between the exhaustion and the beautiful woman, he could not think clearly at all.
He gestured for the check.
“Well, good luck with that,” he said. “Look, maybe we will see you around.”
“We?”
“I’m here meeting some friends, too,” Sanj said. “I’ve gotta tell you I need to get going. Jet lag and all that.”
“Please,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Don’t go.”
Chapter 2
She fucked up. She was not as beautiful or as young as she used to be. Men had always been putty in her hands. This guy was different. He had her pegged for a prostitute immediately—would she never be able to be anything else? God knows, she wanted to be shed of it.
Though she still hated the word prostitute. It seemed so nondescript for the services she once offered her clients.
She tried to play it cool, while letting Sanj know she was interested. She failed. She knew how to come on to them as a pro, not as a woman. And it had been years since she had to approach a man in any way. She had always had Sam, who sent clients her way. Then she was sought out. In any case, she felt like a teenager, trying to figure out her way again.
When he walked into the place, Sanj looked like a dark god and moved with the cocksure arrogance of Indian gentry. She knew it—she’d been to India, knew its men. His large black eyes pulled at her. The strong jawline, rough unshaven face, was framed by waves of black shiny hair.
Damn, she preferred her men dark, just like her chocolate and her coffee.
“What do you mean don’t go?” he was saying to her.
What could she tell him and still make sure she was safe? That he was safe? Could she tell him the truth? And Mary? Seriously? She couldn’t come up with a better name? But Sasha was such a distinctive name. How could she be sure he wouldn’t know who she was once she told him?
What could she do? She couldn’t let him go. She was attracted to him, yes, but she also needed his help, if only just for one night.
“Sanj,” she said after a moment. “Might we chat outside of this place?”
“I’m so tired,” he said. “You are beautiful and I’m sure you’re worth every penny. But tonight …”
“I told you I’m not a prostitute,” Sasha whispered. “I just need to speak to you outside.”
He paid his bill and stood up. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand.
His hands were strong, with gorgeous long fingers that she inexplicably wanted to pull to her mouth. What was it about this man’s hands? She hadn’t felt this warm—genuinely—toward a man since, since, well, since Paul died.
Sasha braced herself for the sweltering heat as she flung her bag over her shoulder. They walked out on to the busy, colorful, streets.
He stopped walking and looked at her. “Mary, what is going on?”
She pulled him off to a corner. “Sanj, I need a place to stay tonight.”
He cocked his head. “What is this about?”
“I’m sort of, um, broke. Between jobs,” she blurted. “I don’t want to be on the street tonight. And until I find my friend …”
She flung her arms wide and shrugged. His eyebrows creased.
Ironic. A couple of years ago, she had more money than sense. And more drugs. Along with the love of an incredible man. Now gone. Everything was gone. Except her sobriety, and her budding integrity.
“I don’t think so,” he said and turned to walk away.
Sasha grabbed him, hard. He freed himself easily from her grip.
“Do you think I’m an idiot? What kind of scam are you working?” he said, his voice low but forceful.
“No scam. Please. You have to believe me. I do have some money I could give you,” she said. “I just don’t want to register anywhere.”
He looked at her as if he were trying to read her mind.
“So are you hiding from someone?” Sanj asked her after a moment.
She nodded. “Yes. And he’s dangerous.” Her voice cracked. Jesus, what was wrong with her? Why was she blurting stuff out to this guy? “That’s why I need to find my friend. She needs to know … I’m still alive and … Please. I’m sure she will take care of this when I find her. I just need to get off these streets one night. I beg you!”
Tears ran down her face. How embarrassing. How desperate had she become?
“God, I just want a bath, a bed, and, and—”
“Okay, okay,” Sanj said, putting his arms on her shoulder. “You can come back to my room with me. There’s an empty bed. It’s yours.”
Sasha gathered herself and took a deep breath.
“Thank you,” she said and fell into his arms. Safety. Warmth. Heat.
“Not that I would not want to share a bed with you,” he breathed, pulling away from her, soaking her in with his eyes. “I’m exhausted and need to get some rest. Jet lag, I’m sure. Just my luck. A hot woman shows up wanting to stay with me and I feel like shit.”
She smiled and slipped her arm through his as they walked toward his hotel. Did he just call her hot?
“There’s always tomorrow,” she said, looking off into the distance. The slowly creeping sunset—crimson, purple, fire-orange—played out over the river.
In a new world where paranormals and humans share an
uneasy coexistence, the most dangerous and sensual legend of
the night lives once more—and one of the greatest secrets of
all time is about to come out… .
SHE HUNGERS FOR HIS LIGHT
She calls herself Valerie Tate. One of the few vampires left on
earth, as beautiful as she is powerful, Valerie has resisted her
craving for human blood for years, just as she once hid her true
gender. But the night she lays eyes on the most enticing man
she’s ever seen, her appetite can no longer be denied. He radiates
goodness and light—and searing sexual energy. Valerie must
have him. Taste him. Consume him. For he is temptation—and he
is her destiny …
HE BURNS FOR HER DARKNESS
Lance Soleil is a rugged war veteran who runs a homeless shelter
in Portland. At first gaze, he knows what Valerie is—and wants
her even more. But when he welcomes a pack of werewolves into
his shelter, he attracts the attention of Valerie’s oldest rival—her
bloodthirsty brother, Radu, who hopes to become the first
vampire President of the United States. Valerie knows Radu has a
hidden agenda, and with Lance’s help she is determined to stop
his unholy rise to power. But first, she must risk their growing
love by fully revealing herself—as the one and only Dracula …
Revealing herself as the Dracula of legend, much less a
woman, should have been Valerie Tate’s greatest challenge.
But with her longing for blood quenched by the one man she
couldn’t resist, Valerie now finds herself in an impossible
circumstance �
��
OUT OF THE SHADOWS …
It’s a fact that vampires do not get pregnant. But Valerie is
definitely pregnant. Worse, six months ago her lover, Lance
Soleil, abandoned her. Determined to find answers, Valerie goes
on a quest—one that leads her to Lance’s childhood friend, John
Janté, a man with whom she shares a strong bond—and an intense
lust. But when John is kidnapped, Valerie’s attempt to rescue him
uncovers more than she bargained for …
INTO THE FIRE …
Scouring parallel realms and pocket dimensions, Valerie soon
finds that Lance has regained Paradise as Angel of the
Lost … John is hostage in a bizarre world that resembles
Victorian London … and most shocking of all, Valerie’s greatest
love may be within her reach once more. For the soul of
Dracula’s dead wife, Ilona, is trapped within John’s captor, a
madwoman robbed of her humanity and manipulated by a
conspiracy of Fallen Angels. Now, torn between past and present
loves, Valerie must contend with emotions that threaten to break
her. And in a desperate showdown, the reunited triad of a
vampire, an angel, and a human must face their deepest fears—
with the future of an unborn angel-to-be in the balance …
TRULY, MADLY … DEADLY
Detective Tom Hanson has a string of grotesquely mutilated
bodies on his hands and no answers—aside from the fact that the
victims were members of an underground sex club catering to
singular erotic tastes. Tastes the long, lean detective has sampled
himself in the arms of his former lover, a fiery redhead who
offered the most erotic, irresistible sex he’d ever encountered.
Until the night she’d begged for the one thing he couldn’t give,
and he lost her forever.
Gina Larsen is the only one who can guide Hanson through the
fringe world of dark fantasy and desire that lies hidden deep
beneath the Bible Belt. Lured into her lair by a quest for justice,
