Never again. That was her motto when it came to Benjamin Swayne and men like him. Never. Again.
Sara tapped a finger to the screen of her tablet, putting it to sleep and clutching it to her chest so she could better glare out at the dance floor through the strings of twinkly lights. The botanical gardens couldn’t be prettier, and everything was going as planned for the engagement party, but still, she couldn’t peel her gaze from Swayne and the six-foot-tall lingerie model grinding against him.
The six-foot-tall drunk lingerie model grinding against him.
And the lingerie model label wasn’t a jealous barb. Sara had seen this woman on the cover of the bra magazine she’d recently gotten in the mail, though she doubted the model still sported the same jewel-encrusted brassiere. No, the silk dress the model wore was so thin and transparent that the rhinestones would have shone through the fabric, but the only things poking through tonight were the woman’s nipples. Disgusting. Yep. She’d called it. They were a perfect pair.
“Hey, Sara. What are you doing over here? Time to join the party.”
The voice from behind her jolted Sara to attention. She turned to see the bride-to-be staring back at her, looking so beautiful in her aqua evening gown and little satin hat. If guests thought it strange that Rayna Sommers wore a hat at night, they no doubt chocked it up to the eccentricity of the filthy rich…or those marrying the filthy rich, as the case was.
Rayna crossed her arms and gave Sara a playfully stern look. Sara knew Rayna pretty well now, seeing as Rayna was marrying Sara’s boss, Kyle Ashford, and she could tell Rayna wasn’t truly annoyed.
Sara smiled. “Of course I will.”
Of course she wouldn’t.
She could mingle when she had to, but these weren’t her people. Rayna’s humble upbringing had been closer to Sara’s, but soon Rayna would be marrying into one of the ten richest families in America, and things would change, as they invariably did with the newly rich and famous. “I was just checking the guest list to see who had RSVP’d but hadn’t show up.”
Rayna cocked her brow. “Uh-huh. You had that list memorized as the cars pulled into the lot, categorized by license plate. No, it looked more to me like you were staring at Benjamin Swayne.”
Sara smoothed a trembling hand down her red satin gown. Kyle had bought the dress for her for the engagement party because he knew she would wear a business suit if she could get away with it. How was it possible to feel naked in a dress that covered her from chest to ankles?
“I was not staring at Benjamin. He’s just…well, he and the Brazilian cover model are making quite a spectacle of themselves out there. If you’d wanted your engagement party at a sleazy club, I could have arranged it at a sleazy club.”
“Hmm…” Rayna narrowed her eyes in speculation.
“Hmm what?”
“Kyle told me that you have a problem with Ben. He isn’t sure why, but Ben is his best friend, Sara. And you’re like Kyle’s…little sister. It bothers him that two people he loves can’t get along.”
“Little sister? Kyle Ashford is my boss.”
“And you two grew up under the same roof. Don’t pretend like you aren’t part of the family. He loves telling stories about when you were little.”
She shrugged. “Like cousins, then. Twice removed.”
Rayna chuckled at that. “Fine. But it still makes him sad. He doesn’t have many friends, and Ben is special to him. Matter of fact, Kyle’s chosen him as best man for the wedding.”
Sara’s top lip arched in disgust, like she just sucked on a lemon. A rancid, moldy, fermented one. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Ben’s going to plan the bachelor party and everything.”
At the thought of this impending catastrophe, the blood drained from Sara’s upper half and pooled in her feet. Oh hell no. “That’s a really bad idea. You have to trust me. You don’t know Benjamin Swayne like I do. You couldn’t count on him for a teaspoon of water if you were dying of dehydration.”
“What?” Rayna took a step back. “Why would you say that? What do you know about him that I don’t?”
Plenty. “Nothing. But I mean, look at him. Everywhere he goes a lingerie model follows. He might as well have her on a gold leash like a show dog.”
Rayna shook her head. “Hey, I’m new to this world, but you grew up around all this money. I’d think you would be used to the glitz and glamor by now. Dating models might mean Benjamin’s shallow, but I’d say we were just as shallow if we judged his date because of her disturbingly perfect…everything.”
Rayna was right. Not about Benjamin, but about his date, at least. “Sorry. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.” To Sara’s utter horror, her eyes watered up until the lights of the party made striated stars in her vision.
“Aww…come here.” Rayna pulled her in for a hug. “If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here to listen. Okay?”
Sara was a couple of inches taller than Kyle’s fiancée, which might have made for an awkward hug if she wasn’t so familiar with Rayna’s touchy-feely side by now. The Ashfords weren’t big on affection, but Sara was getting used to this new dynamic Rayna brought to the family. Sara quickly dabbed at her eyes when Rayna squeezed and released. She needed to get her act together, and fast. Tonight was not about her—no matter what it did to her insides to see that two-faced, two-timing asswipe out on the dance floor.
“You know…” Rayna began, looking thoughtful, “I can’t say I’m not a little worried about the bachelor party now that you brought it up. You tend to have good instincts about these sorts of things, and Kyle’s been getting enough crap from the press for asking me to marry him. I don’t want him embarrassed at the bachelor party by anyone.”
“Don’t give it a second thought.” Sara beamed a smile at Rayna that had been perfected by hours of practice in the mirror—a smile designed to put even billionaire tycoons at ease. It was capable. It was confident. It said everything is going to be fine. “This wedding is about you and Kyle, and if it will make Kyle happy to see me bond with his best friend, then that’s what’s going to happen.”
Rayna looked hopeful. “Really?”
Sara nodded. “Absolutely. And I bet Benjamin could use some help planning that party.”
Sara’s gaze traveled the courtyard. The botanical gardens had started off just fine, but Sara had had two hundred and twelve rare orchids and four pallets of fragrant blooms shipped in from around the world. There wasn’t a leaf out of place, not a light that wasn’t polished and shining—all 137,000 of them…approximately. The food was decadent, the guests were content and having a great time, and she had planned it all herself.
Party planning was beyond the scope of Sara’s job as Kyle Ashford’s personal assistant, but she’d volunteered. She took Kyle’s—and now by extension, Rayna’s—happiness very seriously. No man-whore with the initials of B.S.—clearly a bad omen to begin with—was going to muck up Kyle’s engagement with expensive prostitutes or lap dances that ended up as front-page tabloid photos.
“You’re going to…help Ben plan the bachelor party?” Rayna clarified.
Sara clutched the tablet tighter and refocused on Swayne who now had his hand moving over the scantily clad ass of the woman dancing beside him. She would bite the bullet and she would do this. For Kyle. For Rayna. For the good of humanity.
“Yes, I am.” It would take an act of God to stop her now.
Rayna bit her lip and adjusted the tiny, elegant hat covering the back of her head. “And you’re sure he wants your help?”
Well, if he didn’t want her help simply based on the fact that Sara excelled at event planning, she wasn’t ruling out good old-fashioned blackmail. After all, what she had on Benjamin Swayne would certainly buy her a little party tampering.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.”
He could have it
all…but all he wants is her.
Ink & Iron: Obsession
© 2015 Eden Bradley
Ink & Iron, Book 1
During his soaring career as the lead singer of indie-rock band Ink & Iron, Cole Kennrick has been through it all: sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Overindulging until he lost what mattered most.
Now he’s pulled his life together and left his addictions behind, except for one: his ex-wife, Janie. If only he can convince her their love was—still is—the real thing.
In the seven years since their divorce, Janie has kept tabs on the only man she’s ever truly loved. The one she had to leave in order to save herself. Still, dark and often kinky desires they explored together linger in her dreams and fantasies.
Janie has seen up close and way-too-personal that rock stars are bad, bad medicine. But when Cole shows up at her yoga studio, clean and sober, his leather-and-motorcycles scent teasing her senses, it’s way too tempting to slip right back into the one place she swore she’d never risk again—his arms.
Warning: One smokin’ hot tattooed rock star, five sexy-as-hell motorcycles, and a little spanking—because leather and skin just naturally go together.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Ink & Iron: Obsession:
“Janie, we need to talk.”
“Do we?”
“We didn’t have a chance when I saw you a week ago—”
“We were at Sonny’s funeral, Cole!”
He ran a hand over his crop of dark hair. “Come on. I know that. That’s why I left it alone once you made it clear you didn’t even want to say hello.”
“So you just decide to show up at one of my classes?”
His fingertips swept over the dark stubble of his goatee. “I didn’t know where else to find you,” he said quietly.
“I thought that was the point.” Anger was a fire blazing inside her. She’d had no idea she still had so much of it in her. Toward him. In general. Apparently training all these years as a yoga instructor hadn’t afforded her the inner calm she’d been striving for.
All these years. Seven years since she’d left him—and she hadn’t seen him face-to-face since the divorce. Not until the funeral. She’d been so raw and angry and hurt that day she couldn’t bear to face him. She’d literally turned her back on him and walked away when he’d looked as if he might approach her.
It still hurt.
She looked up as the next session’s instructor came in.
“Oh, sorry, Janie. I was going to set up for my Kundalini class. Am I interrupting?”
“Go ahead, Brenda. We were…on our way out.”
“Janie—” he started.
Her look silenced him and she grabbed his wrist and began to pull him from the room, trying not to notice the soft hairs on his forearm, the muscle flexing there beneath the gorgeous ink. “Come on. We’ll talk in my office.”
She moved as quickly as she could down the hallway, pushing open her office door and letting him pass through before shoving the door shut behind her. Leaning back against it, she took a breath, trying to control her shaking legs.
“Okay. Talk, Cole.”
He looked around, and even though her office was large and airy, he seemed to fill up the room. Not only because he was tall—it was more about the presence that made him so dynamic on stage. And off. “You’ve done a nice job here. Of course, you always did have good taste. This place suits you.”
She bit her lip. It shouldn’t matter what he thought about anything she did, but a small bubble of happiness welled inside her. She hoped it didn’t show on her face. Still, she refused to make it too easy on him. “Thanks. So. What is it? Why are you here?”
“I needed to see you.” He stepped closer and she would have stepped back had the door not already been pressed against her spine. She took in a small, gasping breath, and there was his scent again: leather and motor oil and Cole.
“We need to talk, you needed to see me,” she muttered. “You’re seeing me. So talk.”
“Janie. Look at me.” His tone was one of quiet command. Familiar. Irresistible. She glanced up at his face and was momentarily stunned by the emotion she saw there. “I needed to see you, to talk to you, after…after Sonny’s funeral. We haven’t seen each other since that last time at the attorney’s office, and you wouldn’t let me talk to you then, either.”
“Seriously? Can you blame me?”
He flinched. “Of course I can’t blame you. I put you through hell, and you deserved better. I’m sorry, Janie.”
“You already apologized when you were working through your ninth step in the recovery program.”
“On the phone.”
“Because that’s all I would allow you,” she said, wondering why she was suddenly defending him. “But you’re right. You and your drug addiction, your drinking, put me through hell. So you can apologize all you want. It won’t change our history. And now…” she had to pause, to take in a breath. “…now Sonny is dead because of a damn addiction too. Apologies won’t change that, either.”
Tears burned her eyes. She pressed into them with her fingertips.
“Aw, Janie.”
He moved closer, but she warded him off with a wave of her hand.
“No. You do not get to comfort me.” She shook her head. “I’m so damn sick and tired of drugs and booze taking people away from me. Sonny is only the latest in a long string that included…” she paused to swallow a sob, “…you.”
“You were the one who left,” he said, his tone low, thick with the gravelly rasp that made him famous in the music industry. The rough vulnerability that had lured her in when she was nineteen years old.
God, it had been love at first sight for both of them, and they’d gotten married in Vegas only a few months later. Big mistake. Huge. Even if she’d been so wildly in love with him the idea of waiting to become his wife—to become his—had been unbearable. So in love the hole in her heart had never completely healed.
“I had to, Cole. Had to. The music industry, those people, were swallowing you up. The drinking and the pills and God knows what else. There was no room for me in that world, and I didn’t want there to be.”
He shook his head. “It was me that swallowed me up, who destroyed our life together. Fuck, Janie…if I’d only been smart enough to see it then, I never would have…hell, I can’t honestly say that. I don’t know. I’m an addict. That’s the way it works, right? I learned that early on in recovery. Most of us just keep on using until we lose everything. At least I still have my life. I was lucky. Not like poor Sonny.”
“God, Cole! Please don’t.”
To her horror, two fat tears leaked down her cheeks.
“Ah, no… Don’t cry, baby.”
That one word undid her. Baby. No one else had called her that since Cole. She wouldn’t have allowed it. But now it made her crumple into his arms, unshed grief ripping into her chest. When his strong arms wrapped around her she burrowed in, the sobs coming hard and fast.
“Shh, baby. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
“How will it be okay? Sonny is gone.” She paused to hiccup in a breath. “I know I hadn’t kept in touch with him, but I knew him since I was eighteen. I introduced you guys.” She pushed back enough to look up into his face. “It all seems like a thousand years ago. How is it possible that we were ever so damn young?”
“Maybe because we were. Young and stupid. Sonny and me, anyway. You were always the smart one.” He paused, his dark brows drawing together. “And so damn beautiful. You still take my breath away, you know that?”
She didn’t want to melt into him, but she did. Just like she always had. And before she had a chance for rational thought to kick in, he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his.
She went warm all over, the heat that had always burned between them suffusing her. That and a sens
e of comfort in his arms. His lips were a whisper of soft flesh against hers, and he tasted exactly as he should—like sweet and wild masculinity.
Something between her thighs went tight, and she realized she was crushing her breasts against the hard wall of his finely muscled chest.
“No.” She pushed back, but he held onto her.
“Why not, baby? Why not, if we both need this? Just…contact. Just holding each other.”
“I’m not some song you’re writing, Cole,” she protested, but her voice was a whisper.
“Aren’t you? Do you know how many songs I’ve written about you? I’ve never forgotten my Janie girl.”
“Don’t call me that,” she warned, even though every cell in her body wanted him to say it again, over and over until she could believe it. But wanting Cole Kennrick and trusting him were two different things.
He pulled her in tighter, until she could feel the strength in his arms, in his chest, even his hard, muscled stomach.
“But you are my girl,” he said softly, the gravel sinking to a low rumble. “You always have been. You always will be. I can’t help it. I’ve stayed away for so many years, but Sonny… Janie, life is too goddamn short to waste a minute on regret. I know I fucked up. Royally. And I’ve worked all twelve of my steps around my addictions and again around what I did to you. I try not to let myself get too tangled up in regret, but I have plenty when it comes to you. Let’s not make any new regrets. I can tell something in you wants me the way I never stopped wanting you. I can feel it. I can see it in your eyes.” He paused, watching her face closely. “That, and fear,” he said, keeping his voice soft, as if he knew how easily she could be scared away.
She shivered, closed her eyes, and he brushed a hand over her hair.
“Honey and silk,” he said, taking a few strands between his fingers. “Exactly like I remembered. It’s been too long since I’ve touched your hair. Since I held you.”
She wanted to shake him off—literally and figuratively—but he was right there and it was too damn hard.
Rule Breaker Page 13
