by Unknown
Sexy to Go
Volume 5
This May, purple is the new black! Join us for Volume 5 of Sexy to Go, the only erotic romance boxed set that matches the thermometer degree for degree and always leaves you wanting more.
Sexy to Go Volume 5 stories include:
Black Dress and Pearls by Virginnia De Parte
Rachel is mad keen on competitions and spends time, while recovering from an accident, entering them. She wins ‘dinner with the sponsor’ as a prize for contest she can’t remember taking part in. She’s had memory problems since the accident but who wouldn’t welcome a dining experience - and a break from looking after her toddler, Julian?
Her dining partner is good-looking, charming and still single. Why hasn’t someone snaffled him up and why does he have an air of sadness?
Reflected Pleasures by Tara Quan
A shopping trip turns sexy when Kailee’s dominant husband steers her to a private boutique. To reward his patience, Damien demands a striptease from his reluctant bride—one they both get to watch.
In Deep by Allie Ritch
Elandra’s people are magically connected to the sea, but an act of heroism leaves her scarred and terrified of the water. Dorian is determined to overcome her fear…by offering his sexy body as bait.
Dreamwalker: This Time by Pamela Moran
Something is stalking Tessa's dreams. Is Cole, her Dreamwalker ex-lover, willing to risk his heart to keep her safe, or has that bridge been completely burnt to ashes?
Rewriting the Law Part 3 by Daisy Banks
Retrieval officer Elana Harnip is saved from death in the Jagan desert by Ansgar, a Jagan male who longs for a mate. She discovers there is no fragrance sweeter than his. The water he offers stimulates her hormones so she can only find satisfaction with him. Physicality overwhelms all her cool logic and emotions she thought controlled rise, forcing her to question all she knows.
Demon's Bounty by Jocelyn Dex
When the Network hires a siren named Lydie, things get a lot more complicated for veteran demon hunter Tanner, and a lot hotter. Passion ignites when Tanner decides to give in to his desires and sample what Lydie is offering.
Sly Fox, Part 2 by Leigh Ellwood
Better late than never! After years of living a lie, Adrian is finally out and proud. He's ready to make up for lost time with Anson, but are they rushing things?
Sunrise by Sofia Grey
After a passionate night with his new lover, Joel gets a shock in the morning. A naked girl in bed with them. Has Anton been entirely honest with him?
Roping His Cowboy (One Night with a Cowboy) by Sorcha Mowbray
Brig and Shane have been long time roping partners and best friends. But, after a drunken kiss everything changes. The question is, can Shane snag the cowboy of his heart or will he get away?
Mate me or Hate me by Eva Lefoy
Still reeling from the revelation of her shifter heritage, Casi and her unborn baby are threatened by another pack. As she and Snake grow closer, Liam attempts to claim her for his own.
That’s how it is by Shiloh Saddler
Daniel and James run into an acquaintance in town who agrees to loan them the money they need to pay the bank. Things are looking up until Daniel is attacked. Will James’ love save him?
Table of Contents
Black Dress and Pearls by Virginnia De Parte
Reflected Pleasures by Tara Quan
In Deep by Allie Ritch
Dreamwalker: This Time by Pamela Moran
Rewriting the Law Part 3 by Daisy Banks
Demon's Bounty by Jocelyn Dex
Sly Fox, Part 2 by Leigh Ellwood
Sunrise by Sofia Grey
Roping His Cowboy (One Night with a Cowboy) by Sorcha Mowbray
Mate me or Hate me by Eva Lefoy
That’s how it is by Shiloh Saddler
The Little Black Dress
Virginnia De Parte
Her hobby of entering competitions meant she often received bonus offers of goods at reduced prices, yet this didn’t look like a business letter. In the top left hand corner of the envelope a small logo of a broken arrow piercing a red heart caught her attention. At least her surname had been spelled correctly. She turned the envelope over.
No return address. Strange.
She resisted the temptation to rip it open and put it on the side table, then made herself a cup of coffee and sat down in the warmth of the conservatory, propping her aching leg on the foot stool.
The late afternoon sunlight was broken by the leaves on the tall beech in the garden. She sipped her drink, savoring the peace with Julian away at his grandparents for the weekend. Teasing her curiosity she waited until she’d finished her coffee before finding the letter-opener among the dross on the small glass table and slitting the top of the envelope.
The formal letter congratulated her on winning ‘a dining experience for one, in the company of the sponsor’ at the up-market beachfront hotel in the nearby city.
She couldn’t remember entering a contest with this as a prize, but then her memory hadn’t been the best since the accident. Besides, a dinner out would be a luxury even if the sponsor turned out to be elderly and in need of a hearing aid. She’d eat and drink the best available and attempt to be attentive.
After noting the date and time in her diary she sent an email confirming the booking to the address supplied and then promptly forgot about it until the day it loomed large in her diary, requiring another request to her parents to babysit and a quick sort through her clothes. Unsurprisingly, she found the little black dress hidden in the very back of her wardrobe.
How long had it been since she’d needed it? Too long.
***
The Golden Palms hotel lived up to its name. Set by the waterfront with palms planted on each side of driveway the gold-painted entrance looked a bit overdone. Still, she wasn’t there to admire the décor, but to eat.
A quick glance at her watch confirmed she had ten minutes to spare so she found the ladies’ powder room, checked her lipstick, powdered over a couple of freckles and pulled a comb through her hair. She leaned in under the bright light to check she hadn’t developed any grey hairs. The auburn tints she’d paid an exorbitant price for last week were still visible but at thirty-two you never knew when a sneaky white thread might appear.
Sometimes stress could do this.
She tugged down the hem of her dress to smooth out the wrinkles where it had crept up her thighs.
How much weight had she gained since she’d last worn it?
She stepped back to look at her reflection. Her bosom had become a little fuller, but the dress didn’t look too tight. Just snug fitting. She looked down and sighed. Her black patent stilettos would have looked so much more elegant than the stupid black flats she had to wear.
At the door of the restaurant she gave her name to the Maître ‘D.
“Miss Rachel Rozema. I’m booked to dine here this evening with a representative of WPB Enterprises.”
The Maitre ’D checked the book on the desk, pausing to turn the pages. Her heart dropped.
Surely she hadn’t got the date wrong?
“I won a competition,” she said. “The prize was a dining experience, booked for this evening.” Nerves caused her voice to catch. “I’m sure it was this evening.”
Please God, don’t tell me I’ve got the wrong night.
He beamed and gave a slight bow. “Indeed there is such a booking. Please follow me, Ms. Rozema. This way.”
He ushered her to a table on the far side of the restaurant, near the window. Set for two, the silver service reflected the myriad of lights around the room and through the glass she could see the surf breaking. The tide must be going out. Once it was
dark the room’s reflection would prevent her from seeing the locals strolling on the boardwalk. She glanced quickly through the menu then continued to peer outside, hoping her dining companion wouldn’t be too late, or too old, or too boring.
The carpet muffled most of the restaurant’s sounds but she sensed his approach before she heard his footsteps and looked around to see a tall man being ushered to the table, looking very smart in a navy blazer, pale blue open- necked shirt and charcoal slacks. A fizz of surprise raised her eyebrows but she quickly arranged her face muscles into a welcoming smile. Not only was he about her age, but handsome as well. The evening’s promise suddenly looked brighter.
“Good evening. Miss Rozema is it?” He held out his hand.
She stood and grasped his offered palm. “It is. I am,” she said, catching a flash in his eyes and a tightening of his mouth. What had she done wrong? Could he be disappointed in his dining partner? Who could he have been expecting? Perhaps her neckline was too low? She still had hold of his hand though he didn’t seem to mind, but she released it, the heat of her embarrassment rising up her neck. Not a good start. “Please call me Rachael.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rachael. I’m Wilson P. Burnell,” he said, all very formal as he continued to stand. Realizing he was waiting for her to sit, she did so. It was like charades in a way, all the hand movements and nodding. That fleeting expression she’d glimpsed niggled at her. She touched her pearl-drop earrings. They were in place; then looked at her red finger nails.
Perhaps pink pearl would have been more subtle? Still she liked the red. It made a bold statement: ‘Rachael Rozema – competition winner’. Pink wouldn’t have said that.
She met his gaze as it scrutinized her.
Should she look away? No she’d return the compliment.
She studied him. His grey eyes were flecked with blue, his blond hair, cut short at the side revealed waves on the top where the hair was longer. She’d noted this style on the television recently. He had a good tan which emphasized fine lines developing around his eyes.
This man was paying for her meal; time for her to be entertaining and good company.
“And what does the P in your name stand for?” She beamed her best.
“Nothing of note. A name I rarely use. Just call me Wilson.”
That didn’t work as a conversation opener. She’d try another tack.
“Have you been in the sun recently?” One of them had to keep the conversation going. “You have a great tan.”
“I’ve just returned from two years in Australia. I’ve only been back six weeks.”
“Six weeks and already you’ve managed to sponsor a competition?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “I have to admit I can’t remember entering the competition that won me this prize.”
“My records show that you won this dinner some time ago. I’ve been a bit tardy awarding the prizes.” She could hear his reluctance to answer her questions.
Did it matter when she’d won this prize? No.
“Shall we order?” He picked up his menu.
She picked up the menu and assumed a serious expression. She fingered her strand of pearls, the smooth surface soothing her nerves as she studied the options offered.
“Would you like a red or a white wine?” he said.
“Depends on what we’re ordering. Doesn’t it?”
Had she got that wrong?
She added, “Isn’t it white with fish, red with meat?”
“Supposedly, but we can set our own rules.” His smile crinkled the creases round his eyes and he flicked his hair off his forehead.
The movement seemed familiar. Who did she know that did that? Bugger her memory. He looked so much more attractive when he smiled.
“True. Yes, we can. I’ll have the scotch fillet main and the blueberry pie for dessert,” she said.
“No entrée?”
“I’m dieting.” Not true, but the sort of answer any girl would give.
By the time they’d eaten the main course and drunk the red wine, followed by a sparkling white, to go with the ice cream in their desserts, they’d become friends. Wilson had an endless supply of tales about the outback of Australia and the characters he met there.
“I haven’t laughed so much for ages,” she said. “You must have had a wonderful time. Why did you come home?”
Sadness filled his eyes and he looked away, through the window.
What a nosey question. Damn. She shouldn’t have pried.
She followed his gaze. The dusk was deepening and the street lights were on already. The moon had risen; a pale globe of silver sitting on the sea.
“Sorry, it’s really none of my business,” she said, her voice soft and apologetic.
He turned back. “Personal reasons,” he said, and continued with his dessert.
To ease the tension in the air she tried another subject. He hadn’t mentioned his occupation.
“What were you doing in Australia?”
“I went out as a geologist. That was my first contract, but later I became interested in the pearl industry in Broome, in the north of Western Australia.” He pointed his dessert spoon her way. “That’s a lovely string you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”
This was a bit tricky because she didn’t know. She’d wing it. “I believe it was a present.” That would cover the explanation. “I was thrilled to have a reason to wear them tonight. I just love them.”
He tilted his head, a smile managing to stay in place as he finished the last spoonful of his caramel banana split. “They certainly compliment your dress. I couldn’t have chosen a better combination myself.”
She took a deep breath, determined not to blush but it had been a while since she’d received such compliments. In fact she couldn’t remember when this had last happened. “Thank you, Wilson. It’s very nice of you to say so.”
“My pleasure.”
The lull in their conversation could have been awkward except the string quartet had started their set.
Wilson indicated the dance floor. “Shall we dance?”
“I’m not that good at dancing any more, but I’ll try.”
He waited as she stood and took her arm to guide her through the tables. She stumbled but righted herself quickly. “You have a sore leg?” he asked.
“Just a slight limp. Result of an accident. At least I’m in flat dancing shoes.” She smiled at his concern, determined to give the waltz a go.
Her nervousness faded as he held her, his hand firm in the small of her back, his arm supporting her as they first waltzed and then managed a foxtrot. She shook her head when the beat quickened.
“Too fast for me,” she murmured but he insisted they stay on the floor, doubling down the beat to slow steps, gliding her around the small area. The wine worked its magic. Tension ran out of her limbs, her muscles relaxed and the joy of dancing returned, especially dancing with a good looking fellow like Wilson.
“It’s as though we’ve danced before,” she murmured.
“It does feel that way,” he said. “Do you have any plans for this evening?”
“What, after this?” Her feet stopped obeying instructions.
“Yes, as in now.” It didn’t seem to bother him that other couples were dancing around them. “I thought we could take a stroll along the boardwalk, watch the waves and take in a coffee at one of the cafés along the road.”
Why not?
She didn’t have to be home early.
She could sleep late tomorrow.
Julian was happy.
Her parents wouldn’t mind if she picked him up late.
“Do I get an answer?” he queried.
Realizing she hadn’t answered this man, who held her so gently in his arms, keeping her safe and secure even when dancing on her wonky leg, she said, “Sorry. Yes. I’d love to.”
The boardwalk was well lit and they strolled westward, greeting other walkers with a nod or ‘good evening’ until they reached a bench, wh
ere she paused. “Can we sit for a while? It’s so long since I’ve been able to enjoy a late evening stroll, I just want to absorb everything so I can enjoy it all over again tomorrow.” Heavens, that made her sound like a shut-in housewife. “Not that I couldn’t do this. I just never get around to it.”
“Of course and I forgot about your leg.” He waited until she sat then said. “I’ll go across the road and get some coffee for us. What do you take?”
“An Americano, please.”
“Great.” He leaned down, and whispered “Promise me you won’t run away.”
She smiled. “I promise.”
While he was away she inhaled the ozone-laden air, listened to the waves tumbling on each other way out over the sand. The moonlight shone on the strips of water between the sand ripples at the sea’s edge.
Wilson arrived with their coffee held in a cardboard container and balanced it on the lid of the nearby rubbish receptacle before he handed hers over, took his own and sat down very close to her. The breeze dropped, the air stilled and a car passed by behind them. Then silence descended.
“Turn of the tide,” Wilson said after a few moments, breaking the spell. “In a few minutes a breeze will get up.”
She nodded, knowing this, and sipped her coffee. But the resulting breeze caught her unawares and she shivered, wondering if it could be the chill air or the scent of Wilson’s maleness and aftershave had provoked her reaction.
“Cold?”
She could hardly offer another explanation and nodded.
“Here,” and he took off his jacket and put it over her shoulders, sliding his arm underneath to clasp her waist and hug her against his chest. “Can’t have you catching a chill.”
Oh the blissfulness of being hugged by a man. She almost purred, but sipped her coffee slowly, taking her time, enjoying his closeness and the velvet chicory on her tongue before she passed him her empty paper-cup to put in the wastepaper bin. Conversation didn’t seem to be important and they sat sharing the sounds and watching the passing couples, some of whom looked like honeymooners, kissing as they strolled by.
