by Nana Malone
Sassy In Stilettos
The In Stilettos Series
Book Three
by
Nana Malone
Copyright 2013 Nana Malone
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Sexy in Stilettos
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Nana Malone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Art by Kimberly Killion
Edited by Val Hatfield, Finish the Story
Proofreading by Marcie Gately
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For all the fans who have faithfully followed this series. Thank you for believing in my In Stilettos girls.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Other Books by Nana Malone
About Nana Malone
Chapter 1
Micha Bennett adjusted her hips to fit perfectly with her partner’s. His grip on her waist tightened, and her eyelids fluttered closed as she sank into the blissful sensations of being held. His breath tickled her cheek, and the vibration from his chest as he growled low, made her tingle.
In these moments, with their breaths commingling, his leg sliding between hers, the occasional knocking of their knees, she felt truly happy.
He shifted his hand to her lower back, fitting her more perfectly against him. This time it was her turn to give a satisfied moan. They fit. And every time she was in his arms, it was like someone lit her skin from the inside with firecrackers.
A simple light caress or sidelong glance, or God help her, his lopsided, devilish grin was almost enough to dissolve her into a mass of quivering need—almost. She knew better than to believe in this moment. This was real life. Not a romantic comedy. She was not the cute, quirky girl men fell in love with. She was the sassy and occasionally acerbic best friend who brought the funny. Sitcoms and experience had taught her love never worked out for the sassy black friend.
As much as she wanted to relish the feel of Caleb Atkins’ firm thigh separating her legs, or the way his hands caressed her hip and held her to him. Or even better, the way he whispered her name in her ear—low and throaty—she knew this was only an illusion. It wouldn’t last. Couldn’t last.
“Micha, sweetheart.” His voice rolled over her like whiskey, warm and fluid and making her a little bit buzzed.
She rolled her head to meet his gaze. “Mm-hmm.” The fire and need speared through her like it always did.
“You’re trying to lead again.” His faint smile was bemused.
Frowning, Micha narrowed her gaze and tried to relax. She had no idea why she thought she’d survive dance lessons with Mr. Walking Sex Appeal. “Well, if you were on beat we wouldn’t have that problem, now would we?”
He chuckled as he deliberately led her on a strong turn. “We both know you already think I’m an excellent dancer. You can’t stand not being in control. Unfortunately, this only works if I’m visibly leading, and you don’t look pained by it.”
“That’s funny. I thought you were a security consultant, not a dance instructor.”
“I can be proficient at more than one thing.”
With his six-foot, three-inch frame, Caleb had the height advantage. Unusual, considering she was five-ten without her heels. It was easy enough for him to assert control again, but it was her natural inclination to take charge. It wasn’t like she was doing it on purpose. Except, maybe she was. She forced her arms to relax to his will.
She’d wanted Caleb from the moment she’d seen him. She’d been dying to get to know what he was like in bed, but then he’d insisted on taking her to dinner and ruined everything. Then their two best friends had paired up and severely decreased the chance that she’d ever rock him in the sack. Everyone kept rooting for them to get together, but they clearly forgot that she was relationship kryptonite.
She didn’t do relationships. Ever. She’d learned long ago that counting on another person only get her burned. She only trusted Ricca and Jaya, and even that was hard won. She knew better than to entrust any man with her heart. So even a sex-only relationship with Caleb would be messier than she could handle. Sooner or later he would catch a case of feelings, and then she’d do what she always did—drive him away with a proverbial pitchfork. Eventually her friends would have to choose sides, and she would not be on the winning end of that dodge ball game. Jaya and Ricca were the closest thing to family she had, and she would not rock the boat of the group dynamic. Without them, she would be completely alone in the world.
Unless I find my mother.
Micha squashed that errant thought as soon as it surfaced. Wishing for something that was never going to be was a quick way to get a broken heart.
Too bad none of her lectures had dampened the chemistry with Caleb. It was hard enough to try to stay away from the naughty thoughts about him when she wasn’t pressed against the thick length of his erection for a solid hour.
She cleared her throat. “Your dancing is fine.” And by fine she meant she really hoped there was a correlation between a man’s dance ability and his sex abilities. Judging from the way he moved, she was missing out on a hell of a ride.
Caleb barked out a full, rich laugh that turned their friends’ heads toward them quizzically. “Your glowing endorsement fills me with the warm fuzzies, princess.” He glanced around. “Look, Ricca and Beckett seem to be dancing without bickering at all, and Tamara and Max are even pretending to have a good time. You only have to suffer me leading for another five minutes, and then you can run.”
She ground her teeth to keep a biting retort in her head. She could play nice for a lesson or two. But that shit was impossible with her libido in full roar. The whole reason they were even taking lessons was for Jaya and Alec’s wedding. They wanted to surprise the happy couple with a rhumba, waltz, and a tango, since Jaya was so obsessed with that celebrity dancing show. But Micha was starting to think this whole thing was a bad idea.
Caleb traced his fingertips down her back, and she immediately regretted wearing her dance clothes. The backless, spandex top and sports bra did nothing to shield her from the onslaught of skin to skin contact. His deft fingers forced her into compliance as his hips led hers in the simple rhumba step. It felt good to let him lead. It felt good to do nothing but follow along and relax for a moment. To allow him to lead her in the sexual dance.
Caleb’s voice was low, intimate. “See. You like it when I’m
in charge. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
At first, his words didn’t register, only the low tone and cadence. They sounded like love words someone would say in bed. But then the meaning filtered into her consciousness, and her back stiffened as he spun her out for a turn. She abruptly lost her footing and hit the ground with a thud.
Caleb rushed down to her side. “Shit, Micha, I’m sorry. I thought you were following along. I don’t know what happened.”
Ricca and Beckett followed suit as did Max and Tamara, all of them chattering at once. Micha rubbed her bruised tailbone. “I’m fine, you guys. Goes to show what happens when I let the white boy lead.”
Caleb grinned and offered her a hand. She glanced at it dubiously, but she wasn’t so snotty she couldn’t accept the help. He hauled her up, bringing her flush against his body. His gaze flitted to her lips, and Micha’s body hummed. Holy shit. He was going to kiss her. With everyone looking on, he was going to kiss her. And she wanted it. Something to cut the never-ending tension between them. Something to—
Caleb cleared his throat and set her away from him. “I guess we still have practicing to do.”
Their instructor, Gloria, glided into the middle of the dance floor and gave them all a megawatt smile. “Fantastic rehearsal, everyone. Max and Tamara, you’re really coming along, and Ricca and Beckett, wow, you look like you’ve been doing this your whole lives.”
Micha scowled. Of course they did. If Ricca was to be believed, she and Beckett spent nearly all their together time doing the deed in all manner of positions. They had plenty of practice moving together.
“Caleb, you and Micha, the chemistry is off the charts, but I need you two to work together on having it not look like a battle. Can you two practice that before next week’s class?”
Micha rolled her lips inward and folded her arms over her chest. Yeah, they could practice, with him naked and beneath her—she cleared her throat. If she couldn’t say anything nice, probably better to shut the hell up.
Caleb, on the other hand, grinned. “Sure thing, we’ll work on it.”
As soon as Gloria dismissed them, Micha made a beeline for her purse and jacket. She had a staff meeting at the magazine to prep for, and she didn’t want to be late. Mumbling a goodbye to Caleb, she tried to skip out the door without her best friend, Ricca Munroe, seeing her, but Ricca was no fool. She was waiting for her at the exit.
“Where you running to?” Ricca leaned against the door.
Micha tried to skirt around her. “Ricca, can we do this later, honey? I have a meeting.”
Even though Ricca was tiny, at five feet she was still formidable, especially when she had something in her sights. “Micha, what was that in there? You and Caleb need to figure this shit out. We don’t want to ruin Jaya’s day.”
And there it was—the guilt. Had it been anyone other than Ricca or Jaya, guilt wasn’t an emotion Micha even bothered to entertain. It was a useless emotion. But since those two were the only people she actually loved, they knew how to work that angle.
She sighed. “Yeah, I know. We’ll get it together. I promise. I’ll call you when I get home.”
Ricca scrutinized her. “What’s happening with you? You’ve been off for weeks. You’ve been short with everyone. And distracted. And you’re fighting with Caleb more than usual. Is something going on I should know?”
“Nothing. I swear.” She swallowed around the bitter lie. She wasn’t ready to talk about what was bugging her, and she didn’t need Ricca’s and Jaya’s pitying looks.
Ricca sighed. “I don’t believe you. But I know you won’t talk till you’re ready, so I’ll let it go for now. But whatever it is, I’m here.”
Shit. If she stood here any longer, she was likely to go all girly and start with the water works. “Yeah, thanks.”
With a quick hug, Micha made her escape and briskly walked the five blocks down Fifth Avenue, back to her office in the Gaslamp. She and Caleb needed to figure things out, and quickly, because she sure as shit couldn’t take another class like today’s. She’d almost broken down and begged him to screw her already. Maybe it was time to call one of her fuck buddies to try to exorcise him from her thoughts.
Micha dragged her tired, aching feet into the office. Her body still hummed with sexual energy. Sparring with Caleb could do that to a girl. He made her so edgy. Maybe she needed to start scheduling massages after every dance lesson. Absently, she rubbed her butt. He’d dropped her on purpose, she knew it. And she would eventually make him pay for it. Right now, she still had an ad meeting to prep for, models to select for the bikini week photo-shoot, and the features articles to select and proof.
She shouted for her assistant before the door to San Diego Magazine even opened. Sailing through the lobby with a smile to the receptionist, she called out, “Allison, can you move my two o’clock to tomorrow? I really don’t think I can stay awake for a budgeting meeting. And while we’re at it, move my eight o’clock tomorrow morning to later. I want to see if I can squeeze in a massage with Samantha, and I want to see Erik and Kelli in my office ASAP. I’m having problems with both their articles and…God, I need a coffee…” Her voice trailed off as she entered her office. She still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Allison.
Micha hung up her coat and purse and felt like an Anna Wintour reject. She was pretty sure the legendary Vogue editor’s assistants hopped-to when Anna came calling. Frowning, she stared at her desk. A coffee container from Roberto’s coffee cart sat on the corner, the notes from Erik’s and Kelli’s articles sat on her chair with a memo that they would be in her office at 2:30.
Huh? Had Allison been reading her mind? Wow. Who said pregnant women had pregnancy brain? Alli wasn’t set to go on maternity leave for another three weeks and already Micha was going to miss her. Who was going to take care of her? Alli was more than her assistant. They were partners and occasional girlfriends. Though Micha had learned the hard lesson once before that employees can seldom be friends unless they have the same work ethic and countenance.
She scooped up the two features articles and gasped with surprise as she noted a foot massager under her desk. What in the world? “Alli, what is this thing doing under my desk?”
She already had her three and a half inch stilettos unstrapped at the ankle when a thin, fastidiously tidy man walked in with a tablet at the ready.
He halted suddenly when he saw her. “Oh, Miss Bennett. You’re twenty minutes early. I was hoping to complete set up before you arrived.”
Micha studied him. He was slight. Maybe her height. His hair was cropped short at the sides and left a little longer on top and artfully styled with hair gel. His suit slacks, paired with a cuff-linked shirt and sweater vest, conveyed effortless style. His features were delicate, almost feminine, except for the side burns and dusting of five o’clock shadow. His voice was modulated and even, but strong. Not particularly deep; he spoke with the articulation of a theatre actor.
She raised her eyebrows. “Who the fuck are you? And where is Allison? Blonde girl, about yay high. Looks like she’s smuggling a beach ball in her stomach.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Allison went into labor around lunch time. So she’s been taken to the hospital. I’m Ryan Jeroh, her replacement.”
Micha stood immediately. “Shit, why didn’t anyone call me? I need to send flowers. Maybe get over there. Does her husband know to call me when the baby’s born? An—”
He tapped his tablet. “I’ve already ordered daisies to be sent to Mary Birch Hospital with your name on them. The card reads, ‘When does the rug rat start working for me? Love Micha.’ I spoke to her husband personally to see if there was anything else she needed, and he will contact us as soon as the baby is born, at which point I’ll order balloons. I have an order on for unisex balloons, but I understand you like to be precise, and since they wanted to be surprised by the sex of the baby, we’ll all have to wait.”
Micha’s mouth went a little slack. He was well prepared. Allison was
thorough. She’d gone through the list of temps herself and selected who she thought was the best. They’d been training for weeks. When Micha had asked to meet him, Alli said it was best that she was surprised. And her assistant had been right. Micha didn’t generally like male assistants. Sexist stereotypes or not, she often thought of men as linear thinkers and not great at multitasking. Maybe she was wrong.
She sat back down. “I see you went to Roberto’s.”
“Yes. Gingerbread Latte with extra whipped cream.”
Even though it wasn’t the holiday season, she couldn’t help herself. She loved gingerbread and peppermint lattes all year round. “So you know my coffee order.”
He nodded brusquely. “I also plugged in the foot massager. Allison made it clear that your feet often hurt after your dance classes, so I had one ordered and brought in. And your meeting documents are already on your chair. I know you like to review everything ahead of time.”
She smirked. “Ryan, I have a feeling we’re going to get along fine.”
He gave her a dazzling grin. “I’m excited for the opportunity, Miss Bennett. Allison spoke highly of you and said she’d learned a lot.”
Well, if that didn’t fill her with the warm fuzzies, she didn’t know what would. “You have the job, kid. I’m not firing you any time soon. Now, I’ll need you to move my—”
“Two o’clock? Yes, Ma’am. Already done. I figured it was too close to cut it, with your anticipated one-thirty return hour.”
“Oh. Uhm, I also wanted to move my eight o’clock tomorrow to later.”
He typed quickly on his tablet. “Done. Is there anything you would like me to move into its place?”
That was disconcerting. Shit, he was more efficient than Jaya. And to Jaya, organization was an art form. “Yes, uhm, I wanted to get a massage.”
“With Samantha? I’ll call it in.”
“Jesus. Are you always so efficient?”
His brows puckered. “Yes. Is there a problem?”
