Turn Me On

by Faye Avalon

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Faye Avalon

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-450-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Melissa Hosack

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For my editor, Melissa Hosack, with thanks.

  TURN ME ON

  Brighton Heat, 3

  Faye Avalon

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  The bride looked stunning in her ivory silk dress. The groom looked equally gorgeous in his dark gray suit. For that matter he looked pretty devastating out of it, Lissa thought as she peeked out from behind the anonymous man she was currently using as a shield. She had firsthand knowledge of just how devastating.

  Lissa Delaney. You slut.

  There it was again. The voice in her head she could never quite ignore. Not since that night she’d let the groom… Oh hell. She wasn’t going there. Certainly not while she was hiding amongst the crowd outside the pretty church as the happy couple posed for photographs.

  Photographs she should be shooting, but instead she was skulking amongst the wedding guests, attempting to remain inconspicuous as she herded them into groups of friends of the groom, friends of the bride, and so forth. Thank heavens Tom had taken pity on her and agreed to let her take a secondary role. She’d told her boss that the groom was an old boyfriend and thankfully he’d swallowed it.

  It wasn’t as if she could tell him the truth. That not too long ago she’d found herself at a bar, drowning her sorrows and lamenting her stupidity, when she’d been approached by the man who was currently standing proudly next to his bride. That, in a moment of lascivious weakness, she’d decided to indulge in a night of wild sex with him…and she hadn’t even bothered to ask his name.

  Slut.

  “Oh, shut up,” Lissa muttered to herself, before noticing Tom’s signal for her to round up another party for their shot. She could only imagine what her straight-laced boss would say if he knew the whole of it.

  Her cheeks burned. Hell. She could barely allow herself to reflect on it. What had she been thinking? Not that she had been thinking at all, and hadn’t wanted to think, which was the whole problem.

  As she edged toward the group Tom indicated, she spared a glance at the best man, who was currently laughing at something his girlfriend had said. The way they were looking at each other, Lissa imagined it wouldn’t be long before they occupied the very spot their friends were currently smiling out from.

  Her cheeks burned fiercer as she took a moment to study the best man with his dark hair falling to his wide shoulders and that sexy silver hoop flashing in his ear. She remembered that hoop, she remembered those shoulders. Remembered…

  Slut. Slut. Slut.

  She ducked behind the group and started to usher them toward the wedding party for their photo.

  “Seems to me you’re either hiding from the law, or trying to avoid an old lover.”

  Lissa swung around and came face to face with a wide chest encased in a crisp white shirt and dark jacket. Her gaze drew up, embracing the silky length of a navy tie wrapped enticingly around a large neck, and ended at a wickedly sexy face out of which gleamed sinful blue eyes.

  Before she could respond to his perceptive comment, at least the old lover part, Mr. Tall, Dark and oh-so Perfectly Formed let his mouth kick up at the corner. “You also talk to yourself, which makes me wonder if we’re all entirely safe right now.”

  Lissa thought to merely offer him a saccharine smile before she promptly ignored him, but he leaned down conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, princess. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “What secret? There is no secret.”

  He winked and in that moment Lissa wondered if the devil had blue eyes. “Old lover it is.” He tapped the side of his nose. “If the going gets tough, you can hide behind me. I’ll protect you.”

  Something about the way he said it made Lissa bristle. There was an arrogance about him, an arrogance that was innate and had nothing to do with the exquisite cut of his navy suit or his well groomed features. She gauged him to be mid thirties—making him almost a decade older than her—which she supposed he assumed gave him the right to call her princess. Arrogant prick.

  She stuck her chin in the air. “I don’t need protecting. And I’m not hiding.”

  “Then why are you sneaking around?”

  She wanted to squeal with frustration. “I’m not. I’m merely being unobtrusive. I’ve got a job to do as efficiently and unobtrusively as possible.”

  “Then what’s with the talking to yourself?”

  She couldn’t deny that one, seeing as he’d heard her berating herself for her insistent memories of a night best forgotten. “It helps me concentrate.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll have to try it sometime.”

  “You do that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a group to round up. Family of the groom.”

  “Then that would include me.”

  “You’re family?” Lissa’s stomach pitched, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. It was obvious he was connected in some way to either the bride or groom, as was everyone here. But he was the first who’d actually struck up a conversation with her.

  Which wasn’t completely true, Lissa thought as she glanced over at the best man again. She’d had an awkward few minutes when she’d bumped into him and his girlfriend. He’d seemed okay, if surprised, to see her and had attempted to make introductions, which had provided another tricky moment seeing as he’d been as clueless to her name as she was to his.

  “Cousin of the groom,” the hunk beside her responded, pulling Lissa from her thoughts about that night. “Where do you want me?”

  Well, if she had harbored any plans to flirt right back with him, which she actually hadn’t, the fact he was the groom’s cousin had quashed that intention. Lissa looked up into those blue eyes again. “You need to go join the bride and groom for the group shot.”

  “You’d better supervise me. I might not stand in the right place.”

  That sexy smile flashed again and if he hadn’t been the groom’s cousin she might have given in and enjoyed some of that mutual flirting. But who was she kidding? Even if she wasn’t trying to avoid the groom, this man was way out of her league. He oozed sex appeal, confidence, and self-assurance. Plus, he probably had a string of women, if he wasn’t already married.

  She glanced down at his left hand and when she looked back he’d cocked one of his straight black eyebrows. “I’m still available, princess. Want to stake your claim?”

  Seeing as she’d already gone damp it seemed futile to refute his question. Did she want to stake her claim? You bet. But once, a few months back, she’d throw caution to the wind and look where that had got her. Creeping around at a wedding while trying to avoid the objects of her transgression.

  “Maybe I’m not available.” She managed to get this statement out almost convincingly as she waved her hand in the general direction of the group lining up for the shoot. “You should go.”

  “Not until you tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Whether it’s the law or the lover.”

  “Neither,” she lied. “Like I said, I’m just doing my job. If you don’t hurry you’ll miss the
photo.”

  He narrowed his eyes as he contemplated her. “Okay, if you won’t tell me now, I’ll wait until your photographic duties are over. At the reception. You can tell me later over a drink.” He winked at her again, making her stomach do a stupid roll.

  You’ll be disappointed, handsome. Lissa ducked behind a tree and watched him stroll off in the direction of the bridal party. Thankfully, she was almost done with this job and could soon make her escape. Tom had told her he only needed her to help with the outside shots. She heaved a sigh of relief. Whether it was down to the fact she’d managed to escape detection by the groom, or that she’d been released from the unsettling presence of those dangerous blue eyes, she couldn’t say.

  She didn’t know how much more of this she could have endured. For almost thirty minutes, she’d dodged, avoided, and damn near caused herself physical damage trying to evade the groom’s attention. But then was she fooling herself? Would the man, whose name she now knew as Ethan, even remember her? Recognize her? Or had she faded into insignificance in his eyes as a woman who’d once offered herself to him on a plate, let him do things to her she’d only ever wondered about, and bid her farewell the next morning after an extremely adventurous night?

  Quite possibly. She only wished that night could fade into oblivion for her, too. Not because it hadn’t been amazing. Wow, had it ever. But because every time she allowed herself to remember it, she felt so bloody ashamed of what she’d done.

  When she’d arrived and seen the groom, she’d nearly collapsed on the spot. The last thing she wanted was to cause any embarrassment at the man’s wedding. Panicked, she’d given Tom the old boyfriend story and could have kissed him when he told her to stay in the background. He’d allowed her to shuffle guests into the appropriate spot and generally organize while remaining incognito.

  But then the best man had shown up…

  Lissa dropped back against the tree she was currently sheltering behind, her face burning with mortification. Via the introductions, she’d learned his name was Marco.

  Ethan and Marco. The groom and the best man. What were the chances?

  Damn and blast it. The one entirely reckless moment of her life had come back to bite her on the ass. As if that wasn’t enough, she had now gotten herself all hot and bothered by the groom’s cousin.

  Slut.

  “Oh, piss off.” This time there wasn’t much conviction in her reprimand, because she feared, really feared, the scolding of her conscience might be warranted.

  Except it was perfectly natural for a woman in her mid-twenties to want sex, wasn’t it? She was normal, healthy, and it wasn’t as if she went around thinking about sex every damn minute of every damn day. She had other things to worry about. A life to get back on track, debts to pay, a house that was about to be repossessed.

  She closed her eyes as she thought about that night again. She’d wanted to lose herself, put all her troubles on hold for one lust-filled, debauched night of incredible sex. Where was the harm in that? Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to reproach herself for.

  “Nothing whatsoever,” Lissa mumbled. “It was a perfectly normal response.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Lissa swung around at the familiar voice and found blue eyes leaning against the tree with his arms folded and feet crossed at the ankles. His smoldering grin as he watched her made her knees weaken, and as she stepped to the side, determined to get away from him, she walked into a branch and felt a sharp stinging sensation across her chest.

  She froze, looked down, and saw what she already knew from the sound it had made. The interaction with the branch had ripped her silk blouse and left a gaping tear from the center of her chest right across the top of her breast to her left armpit.

  “Damn.” Lissa instinctively slapped her palm across the exposed flesh. She glared up at him. “Look what you’ve done.”

  He shrugged, still leaning against the tree. “Not sure how, seeing as I haven’t moved.” His eyes gleamed as his gaze dropped to her hand. “I’d say you’ve gotten yourself in a spot of bother there, princess.”

  “Stop calling me princess,” Lissa said from between clenched teeth. With her free hand she dug into her shoulder bag and searched for something to clip the material together, cursing the fact that only the other day she’d had a de-clutter fest and had emptied her bag of all inessentials gathered over the months.

  Damn and blast. Where was an idiot safety pin when she needed one?

  “Can I help?” blue eyes asked conversationally. He nodded his head, indicating her hand covering the tear. “Maybe I could hold that for you, while you continue your search.”

  Lissa spared a moment to glare up at him, narrowing her eyes so that he could be in no doubt what her response would be had she been willing to verbalize one.

  When it became apparent that her bag search would yield no remedy for her predicament, Lissa glared up at him again. “Well, this is just great, isn’t it?” She tried to adjust the ripped material to save her modesty, but only succeeded in tearing it further.

  He pushed away from the tree and moved toward her. “If you just try—”

  “Don’t touch me,” she hissed as he reached out. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He raised his eyebrows in a leisurely manner, as if the whole thing was one long amusement for his benefit. “Trying to help?”

  “Well, go away. I don’t need your kind of help.”

  “And what kind of help is that?”

  “For a start you could stop leering at me, making snide suggestions.”

  “I haven’t made any suggestions yet, but I’ll admit to the leering.” His gaze traveled slowly to the hand that covered her torn blouse before moving back to meet her eyes. “You’re pretty pleasing on the eye.”

  Because his gaze dropped again, Lissa huffed. “It’s weird how men are reduced to slobbering idiots when they get a flash of boob.”

  “While I’d hardly consider myself a slobbering idiot, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the peep show.” He grinned. “Even if it was more white lace than flesh.”

  Lissa felt her cheeks heat…along with other more intimate parts of her body. There was something about the glint in his eye, the sexy grin that seemed to take forever to get where it was going.

  She eased her head around the tree and saw Tom busy with the large family group. “You’re missing the photos. If you hurry you can squeeze on the end of the group.”

  “I’ve already done my duty,” he said flatly. “I’m sure Ethan won’t mourn the loss of my presence. Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “I’m trying to do my job.” She looked up at him. “If you’re hanging around on the off chance you’ll get another flash, don’t waste your time.”

  “I’m hanging around on the off chance I can help—” He gave another glance at her torn blouse “—with your predicament.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  His mouth quirked, sending her annoyance levels up into the stratosphere. What really annoyed her was that he’d somehow gotten the upper hand. First because he’d guessed correctly that she’d been trying to remain inconspicuous while the photographs were taken, and now because of the accident with her blouse and his snide innuendoes.

  Time to even the scales.

  “Okay. If you want to help, give me your shirt.”

  He raised those straight dark eyebrows. “You expect me to attend the rest of the wedding bare-chested? It would hardly go unnoticed.”

  “I imagine the female guests can restrain themselves for a few hours.” She waggled the fingers of her free hand at him. “Likely they’ve seen bare chests before.” But nothing, she imagined, like the wide expanse of his. Before she could stop herself, she enjoyed a flight of fancy wondering if that wide chest was lightly sprinkled with silky dark hair. It would be muscled, no doubt of that. Solid, hard muscle that trembled beneath the right woman’s touch…

  Damn.

  As she dragged herself back fr
om loony land, she noticed the direction of his gaze. She could only be thankful that her hand covered one breast, because the other was currently behaving disgracefully, or at least the nipple was.

  He slipped his hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming as they returned to meet hers. “I was thinking more along the lines of helping you hold your shirt together. Or maybe helping shield you from predatory gazes while we walk to your car. Something like that.”

  “The only predatory gaze I can see right now is yours.”

  “Guilty. But then it’s hard not to notice when a woman responds so readily.”

  “You’re crass and arrogant.”

  “Again. Guilty. But in my defence I lose all sense of gentlemanly pretence when a woman’s nipples harden to the extent of hitting me in the eye.”

  “It’s nothing to do with you, believe me. How would you feel if you’d torn your trousers in the vicinity of your manhood? How would you react? Shrivel up and die?”

  “Depends on who’s looking at the time. In present company, I’d be more likely to lengthen and expand.” He held her gaze. “Harden.”

  Lissa felt her legs weaken, as if all the bone and muscle had disappeared and all she was left with was a covering of skin. To disguise the way her breath had tightened in her lungs, she huffed. “Like I said, crass and arrogant.”

  He shrugged. “We could debate that some more, or we could figure out a way to save your modesty.”

  And my job, Lissa thought with some panic. Tom had already given her leeway on this shoot. She couldn’t afford to display any further incompetence. She glanced around the tree and saw he was still busy with the family group. She knew she had a little time before he’d want to set up the entire guest group shot.

  “I’ve got a jacket in my car,” she said looking back at him. “So thanks for your offer of help, but I don’t need it. Why don’t you run along now?”