by Mari Carr
He grinned, offering her an apology. “Sorry, pixie. Lost my head.”
She returned his smile with one of her own. “Little late for that now, isn’t it? I’ll never live this down.”
He shrugged. “Hey, I live in this town too.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m wearing you down, aren’t I?”
She shook her head slowly, averting her eyes, and he glimpsed true sadness in her gaze. He started to question her but she wiggled out of his grip, shook off his hold. Within seconds, the indomitable Jill reappeared. “No. You aren’t. You can’t.”
She walked away, leaving him in the wake of her last words.
You can’t.
Note from Mari
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About Mari
Virginia native Mari Carr is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller of contemporary erotic romance novels. With over one million copies of her books sold, Mari was the winner of the Romance Writers of America’s Passionate Plume award for her novella, Erotic Research.
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eBooks by Mari Carr
Visit Mari’s Website: www.maricarr.com
June Girls, a Time Travel/Historical Romance series
1. No Recourse
2. No Regrets
Farpoint Creek Cattle Station, a Contemporary BDSM Erotic Romance series
1. Outback Princess
2. Outback Cowboy
3. Outback Master
4. Outback Lovers
Madison Girls, a Contemporary Erotic Romance series
1. Kiss Me Kate
2. Three Reasons Why
Stand Alone Titles
Bound By the Past
Covert Affairs
Mari recommends … Sami Lee
Seducing Mr. Wrong
Sami Lee
Chapter 1
Kelsey Simmons assessed her appearance in the full-length mirror. She could swear the dress hadn’t looked quite so outrageous in the boutique. Held up with spaghetti-thin straps, it dipped low in the back, exposing a liberal V of honey-hued skin and rendering a bra infeasible. The bodice revealed an eye-popping amount of cleavage where it stretched taut and low across her otherwise unsecured breasts. The sensuous fabric skimmed her hips and the twin splits in the hem exposed her thighs.
She looked…available. Very available. She also looked like she was about to fall out of the damn dress.
“Remind me again why I bought this, Gabby,” she told her best friend.
Gabrielle Murray stepped forward to view the dress in the mirror, the bulge of her pregnant stomach forcing Kelsey to move over. Gabby combed her hands through Kelsey’s neatly styled hair, sending the thick locks into disarray. “Because it complements your coloring and makes you look like sex on legs. J-Lo,” she said with a click of her fingers, “eat your heart out.”
Kelsey smoothed a hand over her messed-up hair. “I don’t know. I’m not really sure what kind of reaction I’m going to get out of Stefan if I wear this.” As obvious as she thought the dress was, Stefan Henley hadn’t thus far shown himself to be a great interpreter of women’s signals—at least not hers.
“If there’s any hot blood pumping beneath that composed exterior of his, you’ll get just the reaction we’re looking for.”
Kelsey wasn’t convinced. Stefan had always been almost painfully reserved around her. Despite the enjoyable, although not steamy, kisses they had shared during their regular evenings out over the past six months, he often reverted to treating her more like a friend than a potential lover afterward. She couldn’t help but wonder at the reasons behind his hesitancy.
She believed Stefan’s assertion that he wanted to take things slowly with her—he had been raised by conservative parents and was innately shy. But occasionally insecurity raised its ugly head. Perhaps Stefan just wasn’t all that into her.
Gabby, ever Kelsey’s staunch supporter, had declared that nonsense and suggested Stefan might not believe in sex without serious commitment. That was why she had devised “operation seduction”, corny name and all.
“When Stefan sees you in this, one of two things will happen,” Gabby began, outlining the main objectives of her plan to spur Stefan into action. “He’ll either race you to the nearest bedroom or the nearest altar—and I suspect the latter. Both would be even better.”
“Agreed. I’m not in this just to…you know.”
“Get laid?”
Kelsey arched a brow at her friend’s blunt contribution. “Right. I want a relationship, Gab, in every sense of the word. I won’t settle for less.”
Despite her fervent words, Kelsey wondered what she would do if Stefan offered sex before commitment. Only to herself would she admit that the admirable restraint he had shown had started to get somewhat frustrating. Lord knows, it was years since she’d been with a man.
Determinedly, Kelsey shook off the thought. Her self-imposed state of celibacy was just that—self-imposed. Past disasters had given her good reason to steer clear of relationships, particularly the kind based on sexual attraction alone. Deprivation was not the reason she wanted to move things along with Stefan. Kind and sweet, he understood her dedication to her real-estate business and made no unreasonable demands on her time. He fit her lifestyle perfectly. He was perfect. Mr. Right, actually. Kelsey felt sure of it.
But did she look like Miss Right in this dress? “I don’t know Gab. I think it’s too much.”
“We need a man’s opinion. We’ll ask Frank when he comes,” Gabby said.
“Why Frank?”
“Because he’s perfect. He’s happily married, an experienced, older man.” As though on cue, a knock came from the front door. “No time to argue, he’s here. I have to go to the bathroom, again. Meet me in the kitchen. I’ll put some coffee on.”
Frank Brevan had agreed to come around this morning and give Kelsey an estimate for the renovations she wanted done on her newly purchased house, a high-set, four-bedroom Queenslander that was structurally sound but had seen better days. Hiring Frank was a foregone conclusion. Reliable handymen didn’t exactly crowd the streets of Holly Hill. And she’d been more than happy with his work last time she bought an old house to renovate. Resale had produced a tidy profit and Kelsey expected this venture to be just as successful. Still, she needed to know how much she was up for before work began.
Kelsey supposed Gabby was right. Frank could give her a man’s point of view. Was the dress seductive or just plain slutty? If he wouldn’t want his daughter wearing it, if he had one, it might go back to the boutique.
That decided, Kelsey went to answer the door. Almost before she spotted him, Kelsey realized her caller was not the non-threatening, middle-aged Frank Brevan.
Where Frank was no more than medium height and rotund, this man was long, lean and limber. His back was to her as he rested his weight on the porch railing, surveying the view.
The house stood on a hill, the valley below carpeted in varying shades of green. The small Sunshine Coast town of Holly Hill was a cluster of buildings in the foreground, the sparkling Pacific Ocean a brilliant blue backdrop.
The outlook was spectacular, but for the first time Kelsey har
dly noticed. Her attention snagged instead on an equally spectacular view of taut rear end and narrow hips encased in well-loved, faded denim. A broad back was nicely displayed by the fitted cotton of a light blue T-shirt she suspected was as old as the jeans. At the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, the man straightened and turned.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped in the process of dipping his battered hat to stare. His gaze roamed over her, from toe to head, and he took his sweet time about it. She felt the unmistakable heat of his perusal like millions of tiny pinpricks that raised goose bumps over her skin.
Unnerved, Kelsey wanted to say something icy that would put him and his roving eyes in their place, yet when she tried, all that came out was a rasped, “Yes?”
She detected the barest hike of his dark eyebrows and the glint of a smile as he stepped toward her, the heels of his worn boots thudding on the wooden planking of the porch. “Miss Simmons?”
“Yes,” Kelsey said again, her voice still not running on full power. He was tall, definitely over six feet. With the breadth of his shoulders and the wide-brimmed hat, she had the sense that he towered over her.
That, she didn’t like. At only a few inches taller than her five-feet-three-inches, Stefan suited her just fine. She was not into feeling dominated. Not even by easy-on-the-eyes and—Kelsey felt herself gulp as she struggled to keep her composure as steady as her gaze—sexy men.
“I’m here to give you an estimate for your renovations.”
Kelsey forced herself to concentrate on the man’s words and not on the softly spoken, yet masculine, sound of his voice. “Ahh…I’ve already hired Frank Brevan and I’m expecting him any minute. So…” So scram. She could still feel him openly assessing her with those eyes she couldn’t quite see and it made her nervous.
Okay, so she hadn’t intended to open the door dressed like a Las Vegas cocktail waitress to some unknown male, but really. He was gawking as if he hadn’t seen a woman in months—and he didn’t look like the Navy type, so she doubted that was the case. He was way too rough around the edges, with an air of unruliness.
Before her manners got the better of her, Kelsey said, “Well, sorry you wasted a trip. Goodbye,” and soundly shut the door in his face.
Letting out a breath, Kelsey leaned her back against the solid timber. When he knocked again Kelsey felt it vibrate through the wood. For some strange reason her knees went wobbly at the sound of his voice. “I’m here because Frank asked me to come. I’m KD McKinley.”
“Good for you. Are they supposed to be the magic words, like open sesame?”
“No. Ah…I’m Laura’s son. Does that help?”
It took Kelsey a moment or two to process the information. “You’re Frank’s stepson?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Oh, it was yes, ma’am, was it? She knew Laura McKinley-Brevan came from a small town in Texas, but she hadn’t detected much of an accent when her son had first spoken. “The accent’s not an open sesame either,” she told him, picturing the female conquests that had likely fallen at his feet at the sound of that drawling molasses lilt.
“Funny, it’s served me well in the past. But I’m not here to open your…sesame. I’m here to do the estimate on Frank’s behalf. Are you planning on letting me in?”
No, I’m planning to stand here all day with my back pressed to the door as though you’re going to break in. Lord, he must think she was an idiot. She looked down at herself. Changing would draw too much attention. Besides, he’d already seen her in her ready-to-seduce-her-boyfriend outfit. And this was her house. He could just put his eyes right back in his head, thank you very much.
When the door opened, KD forced his eyes to remain trained above the brunette’s neck. She was stunning, soft and delicate in some features—the finely arched eyebrows, the pertly upturned nose—and strong in others—the indomitable line of jaw and the bold, level stare of golden hazel eyes. She had a hell of a face. Hell of a package, really, though he’d be burned at the stake before he got caught gawking at her like a randy teenager again.
But what kind of woman answers the door on Sunday morning dressed like that? The dress didn’t exactly look like church wear.
“I thought you lived in the US.”
“On and off,” KD said vaguely to address her implied question. He’d spent some time in the US working in construction and had lived there until his mother had moved them to Australia to marry Frank when KD was eleven years old. Despite that, his accent was subtle to the point of unnoticeable unless he was angry or employing the good ol’ boy routine that often opened an otherwise resistant woman’s door. Not that it had made an impression in this instance. “Right now, I’m here to give you that estimate.” Was she going to make him stand out here and suffer an interrogation?
He thought perhaps she was when she inquired haughtily, “Maybe you are and maybe you aren’t. Are you well-qualified?”
KD bit back an exasperated sigh. The last twenty-four hours had been hard enough without this. He wasn’t about to stand here reciting his qualifications, beg for a job any able-bodied man with a tool kit could complete. “I think I can handle a little paintin’ and hammerin’, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well, if it were just paintin’ and hammerin’, I could do the job myself. I have bigger plans.”
KD let his gaze rove over her again, this time doing nothing to mask the intent of his perusal. So much for professionalism. She was petite, yet lush and feminine. She looked like the type to be more interested in painting nails than hammering them, the type that’d let out a horrified squeal should she get a spot of paint on her impeccably stylish outfit. “Whatever you say,” he said with the barest tilt of his lips.
Her eyes narrowed. For a second she looked like she wanted to sock him one and KD had to struggle to keep his grin from widening. She might not be cut out for manual labor, but she was no shrinking violet either.
Apparently she decided not to start an argument about women and their home renovating abilities, but her voice remained cool. “Well, if Frank sent you, I guess he must know what he’s doing. You might as well come in and take a look around.”
He paused to wipe his boots on the welcome mat, ducking his head to remove his hat as he did so. He caught a whiff of perfume, something flowery and exotic. Probably French, definitely expensive. The kind that teased a man like him into noticing what he was never likely to have.
The scent, and the sentiment, suited Kelsey Simmons to the ground.
KD followed her along the hall and registered the condition and style of the house. Exposed timber floorboards needed a buff and polish, wooden latticework needed repainting, skirting boards needed replacing. The central hallway provided entry to a sparsely furnished main living area and four well-sized bedrooms. Only one was furnished with a queen-sized bed and an old timber wardrobe. Narrow windows framed the view of leafy trees set against the backdrop of a perfect blue sky that met the rugged outline of the Glass House Mountains at the horizon. The windows were all open and a cooling spring breeze blew the distinctive aroma of blooming gardenia into the house to mingle with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee.
Kelsey Simmons stopped at the largest bedroom, the one with the bed. “I had the idea that I could make this bedroom a real feature. Being as it’s right next door to that small second bathroom, I thought I might open up that wall and create an ensuite. Do you think that could be done?”
She looked at him with those wide hazel eyes, waiting for him to say something. “I’d have to check the foundations,” he finally answered, willing his mind to stay on business. The way they were both wedged in the narrow doorway, her body slanted in his direction, made it difficult for him to control the direction of his gaze. Her—he had to say impressive—cleavage drew inviting shadows across her honeyed skin where it wasn’t concealed by the thick curtain of her dark brown hair.
You are not going to be caught ogling her breasts, KD told himself firmly,
though his inner voice wasn’t the only thing firming up. Shit, not a good time for that to happen.
“If you could give me a definite on that before you leave today, I’d appreciate it. I have my heart set on an ensuite.”
“I’ll be sure and look into it.” He wondered what, besides an ensuite, the delectable Miss Simmons might set her heart on. He had the distinct impression she made a point of getting what she wanted and the notion incited his libido.
“The whole place needs a paint as well, as you can probably tell.” She pushed off down the hallway again. “And most of the skirting boards need replacing. I could do some of that myself, but I work so much that I might not be able to find the time.”
Right. She looked barely large enough to reach the top shelf of a kitchen pantry, let alone conduct home renovations. She couldn’t be much taller than five-feet-three. And she was done up like she was about to break out in the rumba, not break in to a toolbox.
Abruptly she stopped and turned. KD just managed to pull up before he ran into her. From the less-than-impressed look on her face, KD figured she had guessed at the direction of his thoughts. “I am perfectly capable of wielding a hammer. I’m not useless.”
“Did I say you were?” KD had already thought of more than one use for her in the five minutes since she had opened the front door. Quit thinking like that, jackass!
“Oh no, you didn’t say anything. Very shrewd.”
“Look.” KD felt the urge to sigh mightily. “I’m sure you’re capable of achieving whatever you want, a woman can do whatever a man can do, etcetera, etcetera. But if you could renovate this place yourself, you wouldn’t need me now, would you?”
No question, that annoyed her. The change in her stance telegraphed that clearly. The way she put her hands on those flaring hips also urged her luscious flesh to press invitingly against the fitted neckline of her little red dress. The top of her head barely came level with his collarbone, so the view was quite impressive from his vantage point.
