by Rin Daniels
“No,” Kat said sharply.
“Then I won’t.” A simple reply, as though she couldn’t see the struggle on his face. He could do it. She had no doubt he’d pull every string in his ridiculous black book to get it done. “Just like that. Whatever you want, Kat. Whatever you need, I will give it to you.”
Her breath escaped on a hard rush. “I won’t play that game again.”
His hand lowered.
Kat wanted to crawl into a hole and die when the salon drew in a collective breath.
Adam’s hand curled in to a fist. Then opened and lifted again. Steady. “I’m sorry,” he said. Slow. Clear. “You’ll never know how sorry I am for jumping to every wrong conclusion. I didn’t listen to you. I treated you like...” His gaze finally flicked to the crowd. His mouth softened. “Give me one more chance, Kat.”
“What if I said you had to beg?” Kat demanded. Her stomach fluttered, a nest of nervy butterflies as he looked down at the floor.
When he looked up again, his smile vanished. “Is that what it’ll take?”
“Maybe.”
“Then I’ll get down on my knees right here.”
The salon gasped. At the entry, two mall security guards sidled through, bending to talk to Margie, who gesticulated rapidly as she explained the scene.
Kat’s ears burned. “Don’t,” she said.
Adam bent, as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Don’t!” Kat caught his outstretched hand.
A trap.
His fingers closed over hers, tugged her hard into his arms. “I love you,” he said, flattening her hand over his chest. His heart beat hard and fast against her palm. “Forget all the lies. Forget five years ago, forget everything but the fact that I love you. Go on a date with me, Kat. Let me earn your trust again.”
She pushed against his chest. His arms didn’t so much as budge. “I don’t,” she said clearly, enunciating every word, “want your money.”
“It’s just money,” he replied, and brought her hand to his mouth. “It’s not what’s important. If you want it, I’ll give it to you. If you don’t, I’ll find a way to give you whatever you need.”
It wasn’t exactly a vow of poverty.
“I’ll accept your money, if that’s what it takes,” he said fiercely against her knuckles. “However much you want to give me, in whatever denomination you want.” He turned her hand over.
His tongue flicked out over her palm. She shuddered.
“One date, Kat. Give me another chance.”
“Oh, God,” she managed, and sagged against his chest. “Fine. Yes. A date.”
“What’d she say?” asked the mother of two, and Marc whispered, “I think she said yes.”
“Yes?”
“Is everything okay here?” asked one of the security guards.
Adam ignored them. He slid his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back. “Then it’s agreed. You’ll go out with me.”
“But I’ll pay my own way,” she said, her senses fragmenting under his touch. “I’ll pay you back every dime.”
His smile widened, eyes crinkling with it. “Okay.”
“And I’ll order for myself.”
“Okay,” he repeated, and tugged her close.
Just one date? No way. It’d never be enough.
Maybe she didn’t fit into his world. Maybe he didn’t understand hers.
Maybe he’d fight her on every check, every time.
She wanted that. Wanted him.
“Just so you know,” she warned as she lifted up on her tiptoes. “We’re going to have a lot of dates.”
His chuckle reverberated through his chest, filled her heart. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Fine,” she murmured against his lips. “You win.”
“Yeah.” His eyes filled with sunshine, with warmth and promise and everything she’d always wanted from the man who’d kept her heart all those years ago. His grin deepened. “I always do.”
The salon erupted into cheers, applause and whistles. Kat barely heard them. Her hands curled into the front of his vest, held on as Adam Laramie—billionaire’s son, wealthy entrepreneur in his own right, routinely on top of every woman’s Most Want to Lick All Over list and the man she’d loved for five years—kissed her. Slow. Thorough.
Hit and quit it? No way. This time, she was holding on with everything she had.
Thank you!
I hope you enjoyed Can't Buy Me Love. Thank you for reading!
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This is the first book in the Right Side of Wrong series. The other books in the series are Don’t Let Me Go (out November 2014) and Won’t Give You Up (out February 2015). I hope you enjoy returning to Sulla Valley!
If you’d like to sneak a peek at the first chapter of Don’t Let Me Go, next in the criminally sexy Right Side of Wrong series, turn the page…
Don't Let Me Go
Sexy mechanic Lucas Bourdin is everything Nadine Sherwood has ever wanted—except he’s buried his secrets and friend-zoned her so hard, she’s still seeing stars. How far will she go to prove that she’s more than just an uptown girl looking for a bad boy fling?
Chapter One
Despite the fact that she didn’t dare tell him where she was or what she was doing, Nadine Sherwood gave in to the urge and called her best friend.
At least he was used to her random reach-outs—the line picked up on the first ring. “I’m busy,” he said, which passed for his usual greeting. Lucas Bourdin had never been much of a phone guy.
That just made the fact he answered for her all the more special.
She’d developed an obsession.
“You’re always busy.” She propped one hand up on the steering wheel of her hybrid, leaning back against the headrest. Hearing his voice settled her nerves. Deliberately, she dropped her voice to a low, sultry purr. “So what are you wearing?”
Lucas’s muffled reply might have been a laugh, but it clipped short. “Grease and coveralls, just like every day.”
“Sounds edible.”
“Yeah, that’s what I think when I think of engine grease.” The fact his husky voice graveled when he was frustrated plucked at places in her body he would have been horrified to know about.
This wasn’t, she assured herself, a bad obsession to have. Exactly. They’d known each other since high school. It wasn’t weird.
Except it kind of was, and she knew it. Because somewhere around her sophomore year of high school, Nadine had stopped viewing her best friend as, well, a friend and started wondering what his kiss would taste like. What kind of sound his voice would make when he was turned on.
Whether she could be the one turning him on.
The kinds of things she wanted weren’t the kinds of things she could tell him back then. Not when he’d friend-zoned her so hard, her heart felt branded by one half of a best friends forever pendant.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Here she was, twenty-one years old and still hooked up on the one that go away.
Best friends didn’t ruin things by getting all up in each other’s naughty bits.
Well, that was his line. Nadine had a new and completely different version of intentions.
She laughed. “Anyone tell you that you’re sexy when you’re annoyed?”
“I must be doing it wrong.”
“Or very right,” she replied, closing her eyes as a delicious thrill curled deep inside her body. She nurtured that thrill. Held onto it.
Soon, all her teasing
would pay off. She’d decided on A Plan. A very delicious and probably six kinds of wrong plan.
One that Lucas would never see coming. At least not until it was too late.
“Woody,” he growled, sending fluttery little zings of appreciation over her skin, “do you need something?”
“Aw, don’t call me that,” she protested, pouting. “We’re not thirteen anymore.”
“You sure about that?” he shot back. “Woody.”
She mock-growled into the phone, but when he only snorted at her, she let it go. Truthfully, she didn’t mind the dreaded nickname. He reserved it for those not-so-rare moments when she annoyed him. At thirteen, she’d have punched him.
At twenty-one, she knew it for what it was—a sign that she’d gotten under his skin. She liked that, too.
“Whatever.” Grinning, Nadine tucked her phone against her shoulder as she collected her favorite Fossil purse from the passenger seat. She stepped out into the blistering Sulla Valley sun. “I’m taking care of some business,” she said, dropping as much of her teasing tone as she could.
It wasn’t easy. Teasing the breathtaking, panty-dropping, totally clueless Lucas Bourdin was an obsession, after all.
“And you called me…” He paused for emphasis. “Why?”
She tossed the length of her styled blonde waves back over her shoulder. The humidity fused to her flesh like a blanket. She should have done a ponytail today, got the heavy mass off the back of her neck. At this rate, she’d sweat into her hair. Super gross.
Fanning herself, she said tartly, “Because I want to come by and see you after I’m done.”
“I’m busy,” he said again.
“I’ll bring lunch?”
“Busy,” he repeated, stressing it pointedly.
“Beer?”
“You know what that word means, right?”
She knew. She just didn’t much care. His version of busy usually involved a carburetor. She liked carburetors.
Especially when Lucas Bourdin was the one cranking it.
Did one crank those? She wasn’t sure, specifically, but she’d let Lucas get his hands on her carburetor any day of the week.
Not that he showed any inclination. Same old steps she’d she’d been dancing for years.
Things were going to be so different. The time for subtlety had run out with her supply of triple-A batteries.
Today was go-day.
But maybe she’d take a shower first. Lucas wasn’t the type to fall for a hot mess, and she felt like one right now. She should have time after her errand.
Nadine slammed the car door behind her and studied the shabby façade of the office building hiding what was, in her estimation, the scum of the earth.
Loan sharks. Her one adult agenda of the day.
Her grin widened. “Hey, I have to go. I’m gonna call you back, okay?”
“Don’t,” he demanded in her ear, “I told you I’m—”
She thumbed the connection closed, slid the Swarovski-studded case back into the outer pocket of her purse. He’d forgive her the whimsy. She often called him, since the jerk wouldn’t return her texts. But he hadn’t yet stopped picking up the phone for her. She took that as an encouraging sign.
Squinting up at the brilliant glare of the reflective windows, bright enough to sear through her shades, she took a deep breath.
Quick errand, quick shower, dress to kill, then she’d go haunt Lucas’s garage. Bring him fried chicken.
Totally an ulterior motive. They both liked the greasy take-out, and she got a little extra thrill watching him lick his fingers.
Was that bad?
He’d probably think so. Unfortunately for him, Sherwoods came in two flavor—smart and determined. Nadine was both. And she had a plan. The plan that was going to involve a whole lot more than finger-licking.
First, she’d tackle these so-called financial advisors.
Next, a sexy mechanic with delusions of chastity.
All in a day’s work.
The elevator smelled like gym socks. The halls inside the office building were hot, picking up too much of Sulla Valley’s humidity and turning it into something clingy and gross. By the time she found the right suite, she definitely needed a shower. Ugh.
At first glance, Wallace & Roane looked like any other office in any one of a hundred office buildings. Taupe carpet, dun curtains and colorlessly bland paint conspired with stale air conditioning and the tinny radio speakers set overhead to make it as unwelcoming as possible.
Exactly what Nadine expected from a bunch of criminals.
If it wasn’t for the sign taped—taped, for crying out loud—to the front door, she would have never stepped inside.
The blast of over-cranked air conditioning smacked her in the face. She paused as the frigid breeze streamed past her, sucked out into the stagnant heat. A sudden clatter, a masculine curse and a muffled grunt wasn’t exactly the professional welcome she was used to.
Whatever. This wasn’t exactly a financial advisor’s office, either.
Nadine plucked her shades from her eyes, shoving them on top of her head, and firmed her grip on the strap of her bright turquoise purse.
The door remained open behind her. An easy escape, if she had to take it.
A single man leaned against what probably had passed for a front desk back when these offices hosted something more legit. He was taller than her, but most guys were, with a breadth of shoulder that made her think he’d played football once upon a time. High school, probably. In jeans, an old T-shirt and a leather jacket that didn’t take into account the heat outside, he didn’t look like college. He didn’t even look like a good idea.
He looked like a... What did the murder mystery TV shows call them? Perps?
Unsubs?
Mafia, she thought. Loan sharks were the type who broke kneecaps, right? All gold teeth and triple-knuckle rings? The guy had tanned skin she could easily associate with Italian heritage, with jet black hair and intense dark eyes, but no bling in sight. Not even a tattoo. Was that good or bad?
For the first time since coming up with this plan, nerves batted around in Nadine’s stomach.
Maybe she should have let Lucas know exactly where she was. That seemed the safer option, all of a sudden.
And way too late.
“Yeah?” A gruff greeting, delivered with a belligerent stare. “What do you want?”
The emphasis irritated her. What, was she classier than the usual loan shark clientele?
Maybe he was just like that. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him warming up to anyone. He had a scowl that seemed pre-programmed. He didn’t even twitch when she smiled.
Most guys at least blinked. It came with the genes. People took one look at her wealth of golden hair, her wide blue eyes and fresh-faced complexion, and decided Nadine could do no wrong. Her face was the family pride.
And she detested anyone who thought so.
“Hi,” she chirped, forcing a bravado she didn’t entirely feel. “Is this the office of Wallace & Roane?”
Of course it was. She wasn’t the kind of ditz that couldn’t read signs, but in her experience, big men like this guy tended to underestimate ditzes. She fluttered her long lashes, aiming the registered weapon of her Sherwood baby blues directly at him.
“Uh, yeah.” His weight shifted. “You here to borrow?”
Charming. Nadine plunged a hand into the depths of her hobo-style purse, fishing for the paper she’d coerced from its rightful owner. She crossed the cramped sitting room. “I’m here on behalf of Barbara Harris,” she said cheerfully. “To pay on her loan.”
“Why the fu—” The words ended on a sudden grunt. His jaw shifted as he eased his weight to one side.
She lifted both eyebrows, softening her deliberate cheer with the vague vapidity of the stupidly rich. Harmless. She could channel harmless. “Sorry,” she said sweetly, sliding the paper across the Formica. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” he bit out. He
didn’t so much as glance at the letter. Maybe he didn’t have to.
It was the company’s usual, she figured. Pay up or else the granny gets it, that sort of thing. They’d left them on Kat Harris’s door for the past month. Never mind that Kat had nothing to do with the fact that her mother had borrowed so heavily and then took off with the money.
Loan sharks did that—offer money, then demand interest. When it came due, keep on demanding. Money, cars, homes. Assets.
Blood, right? Did it eventually come down to kidneys and stuff?
A shiver slipped down her spine as the man stared at her.
In defense, Nadine cranked up her smile. “I want to pay it all off,” she said, flashing her newly manicured lavender nails as she waved at her face. It didn’t help. It was cooler in here, but she could feel a thin layer of sweat creeping like nerves across her skin. “Can we do that fast? My boyfriend is waiting in the car.”
That earned her more of a pause than she’d hoped. “Boyfriend, huh?” The man leaned more fully on the counter. His gaze raked her from the crown of her tousled blonde waves to the matching purple toenails wrapped in four-inch, bright yellow Louboutin sandals. Her capris were upscaled vintage, her Roman-style shirt the perfect shade of green to set off her eyes.
He noticed. A half smile shaped his mouth. “Been with him long?”
Ugh. Nadine barely refrained from rolling her eyes. What was it his business for? “Uh huh,” she lied. “Like, forever. He’s an MMA fighter, you know? So he gets kind of impatient.” She plucked her phone from the outer pocket of her purse, and the dingy light caught on the rainbow of crystals. She checked the screen. “In fact, we have a date. So, um...”
The Neanderthal grunted again, but the hint of a smirk didn’t fade. “Fine. Cash or money order?” he asked, stressing out each word with weird courtesy.
She wrinkled her nose, opening the back of her phone case to pull out a black American Express card.
His eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
