One Little Indiscretion

by Joss Wood

  Just one night?

  All she can say is yes...

  “I need to talk to you.”

  And this time she mustresist temptation...

  Sadie Slade isn’t interested in romantic entanglements. She’s been there, done that. But handsome CEO Carrick Murphy tangles things up for her—fast. Their steamy one-night stand has made them parents-to-be. And she still can’t stop fantasizing about a repeat with the stubborn bachelor—despite the secrets they’re both keeping. Is it time for them to take a chance on happiness?

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night.”

  “Carrick, please stop talking about it.”

  He moved closer to her and she could feel his heat. “Why? Because you regret it or because talking about it makes you hot?”

  “It’s best if we just forget about that night.” She gripped her hands behind her back and stepped away to put a solid amount of space between her and the star of some very X-rated dreams.

  “I don’t think that is going to happen anytime soon. I want you, Sadie. I know that we shouldn’t, that we said it was a onetime thing, but then you walk into the room and all I can think about is being inside you as soon as possible...

  “And judging by all that blue fire in your eyes, by the way they keep going to my mouth, racing over my body, I think you want that, too.”

  * * *

  One Little Indiscretion by Joss Wood is part of

  the Murphy International series.

  Dear Reader,

  In my last book of the Love in Boston series, Second Chance Temptation, I introduced you to Tanna Murphy, the youngest sibling of the famous Murphy clan, owners of the world-renowned international auction house Murphy International.

  One Little Indiscretion is the story of Carrick Murphy, the eldest of the Murphy siblings. Carrick’s previous marriage ended in ugly accusations and resulted in too much press attention, so he’s wary of commitment and is happy to keep his relationships brief and surface-based. And he never mixes business with pleasure...

  So Carrick’s attraction to divorcée Dr. Sadie Slade, the art detective he’s hired to prove the provenance of a possible lost work of art, is an unwelcome distraction. After Sadie returns from the hospital after a choking incident, they both fall into temptation and sleep together, agreeing that a one-night stand is all they can have.

  But that one night leads to long-term consequences, and Carrick and Sadie have to work through their issues around marriage, perception and independence before they can risk taking another chance on love.

  I hope you enjoy the start to this brand-new series.

  Happy reading!

  Joss

  Xxx

  Connect with me on:

  Facebook: JossWoodAuthor

  Twitter: JossWoodbooks

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  Joss Wood

  One Little Indiscretion

  Joss Wood loves books and traveling—especially to the wild places of southern Africa and, well, anywhere. She’s a wife, a mom to two teenagers and slave to two cats. After a career in local economic development, she now writes full-time. Joss is a member of Romance Writers of America and Romance Writers of South Africa.

  Books by Joss Wood

  Harlequin Desire

  Murphy International

  One Little Indiscretion

  Love in Boston

  Friendship on Fire

  Hot Christmas Kisses

  The Rival’s Heir

  Second Chance Temptation

  Dynasties: Secrets of the A-List

  Redeemed by Passion

  Texas Cattleman’s Club: Inheritance

  Rich, Rugged Rancher

  Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com, or josswoodbooks.com, for more titles.

  You can also find Joss Wood on Facebook, along with other Harlequin Desire authors, at Facebook.com/harlequindesireauthors!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from His Forbidden Kiss by Jessica Lemmon

  Prologue

  1. Mountain Climbing. (Thanks, altitude sickness.)

  2. Marriage. (Nope. Once was more than enough.)

  3. Riding a mechanical bull, like she had during Spring Break. (Four tequilas and being bucked like a rag doll resulted in the nickname “Pukey” for months.)

  4. Oh, and lusting after Carrick Murphy. (That was the biggest no-no of all.)

  Sadie Slade added having an emergency tracheotomy to her mental Things-I-Never-Intend-To-Do-Again list and touched the small gauze dressing on her neck. She’d never been more scared in her life.

  Back in her apartment after an overnight stay in the hospital, Sadie took a couple of deep breaths—beautiful air!—and took stock. The doctors had assured her that the temporary lack of oxygen when she’d choked at the Murphy cocktail party the evening before hadn’t compromised her mental faculties. But she recited the facts anyway.

  She was twenty-nine years old, had a PhD in art history, owned her own business providing art valuation and provenance tracking. Her best friend was an Arabian prince she’d met in college. Another good friend, Beth, was also her virtual assistant and business manager. Sadie was in Boston to track down the provenance of what might be a lost Winslow Homer painting for Murphy International.

  And ever since she’d taken the job, she’d been trying to deal with her annoying desire for the sexy CEO of Murphy International, Carrick Murphy—he of the ripped body and gorgeous face but terrible reputation.

  Why couldn’t she be attracted to a guy who was both successful and honorable, someone she could respect? For once in her life she wanted to fall in lust with someone who wasn’t a player, cheater or weasel.

  Apart from the inconvenience of imagining Murphy naked, she was fine.

  Sadie flopped back in her chair and covered her eyes with her forearm. Last night, before the ambulance arrived, she’d kept her gaze firmly focused on Carrick’s face. His eyes were an unusual shade of grape-green, shot with gold and silver and surrounded by a ring of forest green.

  Those amazing eyes rested in a face that was deliciously masculine—strong brows and jaw, a once straight nose that had, obviously, at one point been broken and was ever so slightly crooked, a stern but sexy mouth and a body able to make angels weep.

  He was tall and ripped. And smart.

  All excellent qualities...

  Except for the fact that he was a carbon copy of her ex-husband. Or so she’d been informed by Beth, who was Carrick’s ex-sister-in-law.

  Sadie tried to avoid the type, after having separated from and then divorced her own philandering, work-obsessed penis of a partner. So when Murphy International approached her to investigate the authenticity of what could be a lost Winslow Homer painting, she’d seriously considered turning down their request.

  Purely because she was violently allergic to rich, entitled, sexy men who believed they could do what they wanted, when they wanted, with no thought to who they hurt.

  But emotions didn’t pay the bills, and her business brain insisted that it was an offer she couldn’t turn down. Murphy International was one of the top three auction houses in the world, with mega-rich and established clients. The company c
ommanded power and respect in the art world, and consulting for them would be a solid gold star on her résumé.

  So she’d temporarily relocated from Paris to her hometown of Boston and, as she’d expected, going to work at Murphy International, seeing Carrick Murphy every day, was pure torture.

  Because, when she was in Carrick’s company she forgot about his past—forgot that he was the type of man she avoided, that he’d been a miserable husband to a woman she called a friend. Instead, she enjoyed his sharp mind, his acerbic wit and his gorgeous looks.

  When she was alone, she either fantasized about him being naked or castigated him for being a philandering, made-his-ex-miserable jerk.

  Veering from lust to disdain and back again was freakin’ exhausting. But as much as she wished she could blame all her exhaustion on her troublesome attraction to Murphy, it was nearly dying that had pushed this volcanic tide of mixed emotions to the surface.

  Gratitude, fear, loneliness, vulnerability...

  Sadie slid down farther on her sofa and closed her eyes. One way to avoid facing herself, and those pesky emotions she usually ignored, was to slip into sleep...

  * * *

  After Carrick had been banging on her door for a couple of minutes—he’d seriously considered applying his size thirteen foot to the lock—Sadie opened the door to her apartment, looking a little dazed and a lot sexy.

  She’d been sleeping. There was a crease from a cushion on her cheek and her eyes were foggy. He should feel bad for waking her up, she’d had twenty-four hours from hell, but he was so damn grateful to see her standing, to hear her breathing, to look into her Persian-blue eyes.

  Seeing the terror in all that blue the night before had scared the crap out of him.

  Carrick stepped back to look at her, his hand gripping the jamb. He had no connection to her except through work, but for the first time in eighteen hours, his heart stopped careening around his chest cavity and settled down.

  He didn’t have the slightest clue why she affected him this way, this woman he barely knew. It had to be because she was sort of a Murphy employee and he felt tangentially responsible for her. That was the only reason he could come up with because they didn’t have an emotional connection.

  He didn’t do connections, emotional or otherwise.

  Not for a long time and not ever again.

  “Hi,” Sadie murmured. “Carrick? Um, why are you here?”

  “Just checking up on you.” He’d been aiming for casual but missed it by a mile.

  “You look...” Carrick stumbled again, searching for the correct word. She was dressed in a red, off-the-shoulder, slouchy sweater over black leggings, and fluffy black socks. Her face was makeup free and her hair was tied up in a messy tail. A tiny dressing covered the cut on her throat.

  He’d never seen anyone more beautiful. And, God, alive...

  Sadie stepped back to allow him into the apartment. “Sorry, I’m a hot mess. I wasn’t expecting company. Come in.”

  Why did women think being a hot mess was a bad thing?

  Sadie shut the door behind him and looked down to the huge bouquet of flowers he carried. He wasn’t sure what she liked so he’d told the florist to give her everything. The result was a riot of color and fragrance.

  “Are those for me?”

  Well, yes. Of course.

  Carrick nodded and when he handed it over, Sadie disappeared behind the blooms and the greenery. No, he needed to see her face, to keep looking at her...

  Why?

  This wasn’t like him and he didn’t understand it. Long and happily divorced, he marched to the beat of his own drum, had no time for complicated emotions and didn’t do clarifications, explanations or elaborations, to himself or to others.

  He loved and protected his siblings and was loyal to the few close friends he had...

  But Sadie Slade was neither family nor friend. So why was he reacting like this?

  Sadie looked at him across the heads of the multicolored blooms. “Are you planning on talking to me?”

  Talking was overrated; he could get his point across in other ways. Pulling the expensive bouquet from her arms, he dropped it to the floor. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for her to protest. When none came, he covered her mouth with his, drinking in her heat, her spice...her goddamn alive-ness.

  Carrick moved her back so that she rested against the wall and then rested his palm against the cool plaster above her head. He wouldn’t touch her with anything but his mouth. Because if he did, he wouldn’t stop until he had her naked, panting and screaming his name.

  Sadie had no problem using her hands, and he felt her tugging his shirt from his pants, and then her hands were on the bare skin above his belt, skimming across his spine. Every muscle in his body contracted and he wondered where all the oxygen in the room had gone.

  But it didn’t matter because Sadie was kissing him. And kissing him with a lot of enthusiasm.

  Sadie’s tongue pushed into his mouth and she wrapped her arms around his waist, silently telling him that she wanted him—this—as much as he did. Unable to keep his hands to himself, not for one more second, he floated his palm across the bare skin revealed by her oversize sweater and marveled at the softness. Would she be this soft everywhere?

  “Touch me, Carrick,” Sadie murmured. Her breathy words, punctuated by kisses, was all the encouragement he needed. He pulled her sweater up so he could access her fragrant skin. No bra, thank God. Dropping his head to kiss her throat, he told her exactly what he wanted to do to, and with, her.

  Her excited, low pitched murmurs encouraged him to do all that. And more.

  When she pulled his hand up to cover her breast, he groaned at the feel of her taut nipple pushing into his hard palm. Needing to taste her, Carrick pulled her sweater up and over her head, looking down at sheer perfection when she was exposed to his hot gaze.

  Firm, high breasts, pretty pink nipples...

  “I can’t wait to taste you.” Carrick bent his head and laved her with his tongue before sucking her into his mouth. Perfection. Carrick moved on to her other breast and after paying it the same attention, stood up and tunneled his fingers into her hair. “I want to take you to bed.”

  Sadie reached up to hold his wrist with her hand. “I know.”

  Carrick bent down to lean his forehead against hers. “That’s not a yes, Sadie.”

  Sadie took his hand and led him down the hallway to her bedroom. Inside that china-blue and white space, she pushed her pants down her hips, taking her underwear with them. Stepping out of her socks, she stood before him, naked.

  “Make love to me, Carrick. You make me feel so damn...”

  Hot? Horny? Turned on?

  “Alive,” Sadie whispered. “I so very badly need, right now, to feel alive.”

  He could give that to her. And so he did.

  One

  Carrick Murphy heard the snick of the lock on the bathroom door and turned his head to bury his face in Sadie’s sweet-smelling pillow.

  Hell.

  When he left his historic Beacon Hill house last night, his intention had been to check up on Murphy’s new art investigator. Because, as he told himself repeatedly on the drive to her apartment, he only needed her in a professional capacity. He needed her skills to authenticate a painting so that the possible lost Homer could be included in their much-anticipated, once-in-a-generation auction happening in the spring. He’d brought her flowers—they were still on the floor in the hallway, probably dying—as a gesture from a client to a consultant, desperately trying to convince himself that his visit had nothing to do with Sadie being sexier than sin.

  Great snow job, Murphy. Not your usual style, dude.

  Releasing a frustrated huff, Carrick looked around for his clothes. The least he could do to make this morning less awkward was to be dressed when Sadie eve
ntually decided to leave the bathroom.

  He found his underwear by the door and pulled on his boxer briefs. They’d started shedding clothes in the hallway, a minute after their lips collided.

  Not seeing any more of his clothes in the immediate vicinity, Carrick followed the garment trail through her apartment and plucked one of her socks off the frame of a black-and-white print and picked up her yoga pants and thong off the hallway floor. He found his shirt by the gray couch and his pants behind it.

  Carrick pulled on his pants and then his button-down shirt, leaving the shirt open as he pulled on his socks, then his shoes. He eyed the door, wishing he could just slip out. But Sadie wasn’t some woman he’d never see again and he wouldn’t do that to her.

  Since he was no longer a kid, he didn’t leave without at the very least a “thank you,” and even if it wasn’t world-rocking sex, an “it was fun.”

  But it had been world-rocking sex and he would see Sadie later since he was paying her an exorbitant figure for her expertise to authenticate a painting. He needed her...

  But only on a professional basis.

  He’d trained himself not to need anyone anymore.

  Since divorcing Tamlyn, he always thought long and hard about whom he slept with and the potential fallout—would the woman take her story to the press? Would she spread a rumor or four about the way he treated her? But his need for Sadie had drowned out all his fears and considerations.

  He’d wanted her. She’d wanted him back. His brain had shut down after that...

  But man, he hoped she didn’t think this was the start of something special, that they were going anywhere. The worst outcome would be her catching feelings, wanting or expecting more from him than he could give.

  Because he didn’t have it in him.

  He’d lost too many women he loved and cared about—his real mom, stepmom and sister-in-law to death, another sister-in-law to divorce—and his own divorce had drained him of any hopes and dreams and trust he had in a happy-ever-after, in having a family, a partnership, a wife he’d grow old with.

 
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