Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  Everly grumbled at the screeching alarm, doing her best to pull its insides out. She was hung over from the night before; heavy drinking was her only way to stomach being that close to Ryan. As she rolled over, she almost died at the sight of him in her bed, as he laid amongst her down pillows, swaddled in her Egyptian cotton sheets and sickeningly expensive cotton comforter.

  She shot up in bed feeling ill. Pulling the covers back, she held her breath hoping she was clothed.

  “Oh my god,” she screamed, as she kicked and pawed her way out of bed.

  She dashed into her bathroom hardly able to contain herself as she realized a lot had to have happened since she was naked. Hurrying back out to the bed, she tore the blankets off Ryan revealing his equally naked body.

  “Hey there,” he said. He took a long stretch displaying all his parts with no embarrassment; she crossed her arms turning away in a flash.

  “How did you end up here in my bed, Ryan?” she grumbled.

  “By way of cab,” he said, sitting up. After giving her a couple minutes to stew in her embarrassment, he decided to cave.

  “We didn’t do anything. We both got way too tipsy and you demanded I stay at your place. And oddly enough sleep naked, you said something about your thread count that the clothes had to go.” He shrugged, still confused. He hadn’t remembered Everly being so anal about everything in her life; she used to be a lot of fun. When had she become such an old stick-in-the-mud?

  “Well good,” she said quietly, hurrying to get dressed. She wasn’t ready to make that move--she was used to Vinnie. And even if he took home some bimbo, she wasn’t willing to reciprocate.

  Ryan appeared in the bathroom doorway watching Everly get dressed.

  “You were always swan like,” he said.

  Everly stared, eyeing him oddly, as she zipped up her jeans.

  “What does that even mean?” she asked, sliding her lilac tank top over her head, her hair quickly falling back into place. Ryan admired her thin frame, her pale skin.

  “I don’t know, maybe it was the ballet you used to do. But there was something about you, like a graceful swan. Now you’re like a robot on its last leg,” he said, not concerned that he just offended her.

  “Well thanks,” she scoffed, not caring if Ryan was making fun of her or not. She grabbed her brush and with a few rough strokes, she brushed her hair, admiring herself in the mirror. Satisfied with how she looked, she set the brush down on her dresser top.

  “I’m just saying, at one time you were a free spirit and you really enjoyed life,” Ryan said, lifting the toilet seat. Everly rolled her eyes, making her way out as he started to urinate right in front of her.

  “I do enjoy life,” she muttered. She was beginning to think everyone near and dear to her thought the same thing. Seconds after the toilet flushed Ryan appeared, still naked.

  “You’re too perfect; everything in this condo is perfect. When did you get like this?” he asked, crossing her bedroom. Everything on a flat surface was perfectly lined. Her clothes in her huge closet all color coordinated. Her shoes all kept in the right spot on the floor, not a single thing out of place. It was just so neat. Her TV sat alone on her plain white stand. Ryan looked from one end of the room to another trying to find one thing out of place. He found nothing more than a bed, which Everly was busily making.

  “How have you been since your mom died?” he finally asked. He knew she wasn’t okay. He had known her long enough, and this was nothing like the Everly that once filled him full of laughter.

  She picked at the comforter, pulling the tiniest piece of lint off, ignoring Ryan. When did she get like this? She’d been like this for years. She wasn’t sure why, nor did she care to figure it out. Her life had been sucked dry of everything that she once loved. But she never could place a finger on why it was that way. Her mother once told her she thought she was depressed. Everly wasn’t sure she believed that. So she ignored it and tried to make everything around her appear perfect. If all was perfect, she couldn’t complain. Without complaints, she’d never be unhappy.

  “You’re not happy, Everly. It’s hard to figure you out. You didn’t seem happy with that foreign guy. He’s gone now, and you’re still unhappy.” Ryan sat down on the end of the bed.

  “For the last time, he’s Russian.” She bit her tongue—he’d irritated her—and couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes.

  “Are you happy, Ev?” Ryan asked sincerely.

  “Look Ryan, my life is good. I have a great job; I make a lot of money. I have an amazing condo and I can live where I want to live and do what I want to do. So, yeah, I am happy. I’m just having…a moment. It will end soon, I’m sure of it,” she said.

  But that wasn’t what she’d wanted to say to him at all. She wanted to tell him how angry she was whenever she thought about him, and how she’d pined away for him for so long. She wanted to tell him how she couldn’t trust a man again after what he’d done to her. She also wanted to slap him silly for being the cause of her ridiculous relationship with Vinnie. But she didn’t say any of those things—she shoved it down deep like she always did.

  Charley

  Charley had forgotten how cold Central Park was in the winter.

  “I can totally see why you love living here,” Adrian said, holding onto to her gloved hand. They made their way down the trail, the dead trees hovering overhead.

  “It’s always alive, there is something always going on. It makes me feel small and unnoticed,” she explained.

  That was the way she liked it. In New York, she got swallowed up amongst the towering buildings and the crowds of people. In the small Ohio town she’d grown up in, she stuck out like a sore thumb. She’d always hated the attention she got. But, here, she could remain anonymous and unnoticed.

  “I can’t understand how such a successful guy such as yourself hasn’t branched off into New York. That would be the ultimate excuse to move away from Ohio,” she insisted.

  “Nah, its home. I’m royalty there. I’d be nothing out here,” he joked.

  “Royalty, huh? What are you saying, Adrian? You some kind of prince?” Charley asked, laughing at the thought of it.

  “Yeah exactly,” he said.

  Charley turned looking closer at him, waiting for the laughter. But he stayed serious, she stopped walking letting go of his hand. Pulling off her red leather glove, she extended her hand to Adrian.

  “Hi, I’m Charley, a small town girl from Ohio, daughter of one Sandy and Ned Harper--psychologist and railroad worker. They did well enough for themselves to have raised four children. And you are?” she asked, waiting.Adrian grabbed her hand shaking it tightly. He took a long pause, debating on what to say.

  “I’m Adrian Peters. I like long walks on the beach, and when I’m not busy doing charity work in Ohio, I am known back in my father’s homeland as a prince. Pleased to meet you,” he said, cringing at what was coming next. He watched Charley’s face go from blank to filled with astonishment, and then to confusion.

  “Are you being serious right now, like you’re a prince?” she asked, baffled. Was he making this up?

  “Back where my father was born, Columbia. His family is royalty. I guess here we wouldn’t consider it that, but there things are different. So, yeah, there I would be considered a prince,” he nodded, feeling a little awkward.

  “That’s amazing, and you’re ‘allowed’ to talk to little old me?” Charley asked, taking his hand again.

  “I think you’d make the perfect princess,” he said, smiling. As for the ‘allowed’ part, that was an entirely different story, he thought to himself. His family was strict about who any of the children became romantically involved with.

  Adrian had two brothers, Andre and Angelo. He was the middle son. They were all considered the “golden” children. Their lives had always been complicated. He’d found a way to skate by all the bullshit. He did his best to stay away from the shady details. Some parts of it were totally unavoidable. Being
part of such a family automatically roped him in.

  This brought him back to his feelings for Charley. What would she think if she knew he was Sam’s son—the man who was in jail for allegedly killing her mother?

  More importantly, however, how would she feel about him if she knew his dad was not the one who harmed her mother?

  Dad

  Ned was pleased he managed to get out of his home for the evening. He had survived a trip to the grocery store to buy groceries. He’d been surviving on beer and pork rinds for some time now, but he needed real food. He shut the trunk lid and gave the shopping cart a hard shove into the cart corral. He was looking forward to getting home to make up a nice batch of potato and broccoli soup—one of his specialties. In fact, it was probably the only thing he knew how to cook.

  “And there it is again,” he muttered to himself. He pulled his rear-view down to get a better view of the black vehicle. He could have sworn it drove by his house twice the other day. At first he thought it’d been his imagination, but this proved he hadn’t imagined it. He held on tight to the steering wheel, straining to remain calm.

  Ned wasn’t the most powerful man. He barely stood six feet tall. He’d never been an athlete and considered himself more of an artsy type. He and Sandy had always enjoyed trips to the museum and stage plays.

  He snagged the newspaper off the steps as he made it onto his front porch. He looked over his shoulder for any sign of the black car. Digging into his pants pocket for his house keys, they let out a little jingle as he worked on the lock. It was never that easy to open. In fact, Sandy had told him for months that the lock needed to be lubricated.

  Life was returning to normal for him. With all the kids gone, he’d gotten used to the silence. The only noise that kept him company was an old grandfather clock that sat in the corner of his front room. Even Gray, their old hound dog, did nothing but sleep next to his recliner. He barely ate or moved anymore. Sometimes Ned would poke him to make sure he was still alive.

  He moaned as he set the groceries on the kitchen table. He had to admit he was lonely. Gray yelped suddenly, raising the hairs on Ned’s arms. He put down the canned good, staying where he was, listening, and heard the screen door bang several times.

  “Hello?” he called out. He waited as Gray continued barking. Leaning over, he took Gray by the collar and walked through the living room to the hallway. Ned dropped his grip on Gray as soon as he saw the masked man standing in his home.

  “Who are you!” he yelled. “What do you want?”

  The tall man towered over him as he stood there with his arms crossed over his black shirt, black gloves covering his large hands.

  “What is this about?” he stammered. Gray backed down and lay down at Ned’s feet. Ned silently cursed his dog’s cowardice.

  “Where is it, Mr. Harper?” the masked man asked. He had an accent Ned didn’t recognize. As the man stuck out a gloved hand moving closer to him, Ned backed away. The masked man grabbed Ned’s arms and, in one quick toss, sent him sailing across the room, where he landed on the living room floor. Ned groaned, rolling to his side, the air knocked out of him.

  He watched as the man moved toward him, and lifting a single foot he stepped down onto Ned’s glasses, crushing them.

  Ned could hear him rummaging through the house—drawers opening and shutting, furniture being moved—obvious he was looking for something. Nearly blind without his glasses, Ned could only see a blur of the man as he moved around the house.

  “If you could explain to me what it is you’re looking for, maybe I could help you,” he said, from where he lay sprawled out on the living room floor.

  “I have no time for games, Mr. Harper,” the man said, making his way back into the living room. He raised his boot above Ned’s head sending Ned into a panic. Clutching his chest, he let out a scream, feeling the full force of a size thirteen boot ramming down on his skull.

  Evelyn Peters

  Evelyn Peters had always been the talk of the town. Other housewives envied her mink furs, her diamonds, her fancy cars, and even her husband. She seemed to have anything and everything a person could want. She sipped on the most delectable wines, shook hands with the most influential people, and only the finest of plastic surgeons were ever allowed to touch her body. She considered herself to be a fine piece of art.

  Evelyn met Sam when she was a young girl. Her parents were both traveling ministers, taking her with them on their worldwide excursions. She was barely fourteen when she laid eyes on Sam for the first time. She wanted this man in every way imaginable, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted.

  It helped that she was a strikingly gorgeous girl. Her dazzling blue eyes, her fair skin, and her golden naturally blonde hair was all it took to bring Sam to her doorstep. They hit it off quickly, and he promised they’d marry. It wasn’t until nearly a year later that she’d discovered how powerful Sam was. He was part of the most dangerous family in Columbia. Once the parents learned of their children’s escapades, it was too late. She was already pregnant. Sam’s family forced her parents into the family trade, and from then on, Evelyn realized the extent of her own power.

  For the few that knew Evelyn well, it was no surprise that she would win the prize for a woman scorned. To Evelyn, Sam was her possession and he was never supposed to betray her.

  Now he was sitting behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. Evelyn felt this was the best place for him. In most families, the man was in charge, but this wasn’t the case with Sam and Evelyn. Their power, for the most part, was equal. Occasionally, one outranked the other. The kind of power this family had allowed them to get nearly anything they wanted, no matter how disturbing the methods used to obtain those things.

  Evelyn floated across her indoor pool, a black eye mask covering her face. She held a glass of red wine in one hand, a long cigarette in the other.

  “Jacque!” she screeched. A young muscular man wearing only a Speedo came running for the room, swiftly diving into the water without hesitation.

  “Yes, Mrs. Peters,” he said, emerging at her feet.

  Without even looking at the young man, she began talking.

  “I want a bath run, and then I want you to get in touch with my sons. I want them here tomorrow morning. We need to discuss some business,” she said, dropping the cigarette into the pool, it hissed before being captured by Jacque.

  “As you wish,” he said, swimming to the ladder. Mrs. Peters was the toughest boss on earth. If anyone knew what it was like behind the estate’s walls, they would have been horrified.

  Charley and Adrian

  Adrian and Charley were having an incredible day; they’d been hitting it off so well. He had one final night to spend with her and then he was back to Ohio. He sat in her living room waiting for her to get dressed. He was taking her to her favorite Broadway show, West Side Story.

  This was the longest he’d been in her apartment since his visit to New York. And he wasn’t shocked in the least that she never let him stay overnight. He knew she wasn’t the type to sleep around. She gave him her whole day every day since he’d been here, and that was enough for him.

  “I’ll be done in about five more minutes,” Charley called from her bedroom. Adrian gave her a nod, looking around the room at the elegant art hanging from the walls, all floral paintings. Everything in her apartment reflected her personality—shiny and stylish, yet laid-back and refined. He touched the flowers he sent her that were now displayed on her glass coffee table. They fit in with the colors of her living room. He loved how she displayed pictures of all her loved ones in cute little frames, and how she had old English writing of inspirational words forever memorialized on her walls. He also loved how he could tell she used her chaise lounge as her nightly reading spot, with books stacked neatly on the end table beside it. A light pink throw was draped carefully over her couch. Everything was a reflection of her, and he just wanted to sit there forever taking in the smells and sounds tha
t all reminded him of her.

  Adrian leaned back on the sofa as he felt his phone ring in his pocket. He groaned but kept his eyes glued on the bedroom as he answered.

  “Yep?” he asked, knowing it was his mother yet again.

  “Mr. Peters, this is Jacque. Your mother wants to see you and your brothers tomorrow morning.”

  “Well Jacque, tell Mom that I won’t be home until evening, so it’s not going to work,” Adrian replied. His mom was being her usual pushy self, and he wasn’t going to give in to her demands and cut his visit with Charley short.

  “No, no, that no good, Mr. Peters,” Jacque said, sounding distressed, his broken English putting a smile on Adrian’s face.

  “It’s good. You tell her I told you I’m busy,” he said, watching Charley heading his way.

  “She might hit me, Mr. Peters. You know how I feel about that. Could you tell her now?” Jacque begged. It was horribly pathetic that a grown man was that afraid of his mother.

  “Look, I’ll help us both out. Just tell her I said I’m coming, okay? I’ll take care of the rest, now goodbye,” he said, shutting his phone.

  “Another phone call, huh?” Charley asked as she put on a pair of dainty diamond earrings.

  Adrian stood up, shoving his phone in his pocket. He took her in, loving the black layered skirt that reminded him of a ballerina tutu. She topped that with a dark pink belt and a white sleeveless blouse that had its own set of frills. Her hair was perfectly styled in large waves, and it was clear she took her time to look good for him. He loved it.

  “Yeah, another call from home. Just my mom. Your legs look amazing in that skirt, by the way,” he said.

  Charley teasingly moved her skirt up, showing more skin. She was feeling more comfortable with Adrian.

  “Well, the show doesn’t start for another hour,” she said, checking her watch. She lived close, so there was no point in taking off early. She took a seat on her couch, patting the spot next to her for Adrian to sit. He sat down in a flash, suddenly feeling awkward.