Tempting Heat (Tempt Me Book 1)

by Sara Whitney

  His heart rattled in his chest as she shifted from foot to foot, wringing her hands. The silence stretched until he burst into laughter.

  “You have no idea how to do this, do you? Have you never groveled in your life?”

  “No!” She flung her arms into the air. “Okay, how about this? I’m sorry. Please give me another chance?”

  He waved a hand for her to continue. “What are you sorry for? Please be specific. Pretend you’re reading a list from your journal.”

  “God, where to start?” She took a deep breath, and he watched the tension leave her body as the words poured out of her. “I believe you. I’m sorry I made you think for even a second this morning that I didn’t. And I should’ve believed that it wasn’t you who posted those things about me from the very beginning. I’m sorry I didn’t strip you out of your clothes today so you could finish reading The Color of Magic to me naked.”

  As the blissfully unaware Finn spoke, Dr. Chadhoury appeared in the doorway, a stack of papers in her hand and a startled look on her face.

  “I’m sorry for not telling Josie immediately that you were stuck in the apartment with me.” She took a step toward him. “I’m sorry that I made it sound like what we shared this weekend was anything but special and perfect and by far the best sex I’ve ever had. I’m sorry we wasted all this time by being apart.”

  The thought of stopping Finn’s words physically pained him, but for the sake of his dignity, he might have to. Thankfully, Dr. Chadhoury’s face relaxed into a smile, and she gave him a thumbs-up as she backed out the office, easing the door shut behind her. He’d clearly made the correct choice in his replacement committee member.

  Finn barreled on, her voice gaining strength. “I’m sorry I didn’t physically throw myself in front of my apartment door to keep you from leaving this morning. I’m sorry I ever spent even one minute as Dylan’s girlfriend when you were right in front of me the whole time with your good heart and your quick mind and your beautiful mouth. I’m sorry—”

  Tom had heard enough. He crossed the rest of the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. “Figures you’d be an overachiever even when groveling.” Then he pulled her close and kissed her, feeling like the luckiest man alive as those sweet lips opened for him and her hands slid around his waist and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt.

  They were both breathing hard when he pulled back far enough to make his own confession. “When we were kids, I hoped without hope that someday I’d get lucky and you’d choose me. And after this weekend…”

  A smile trembled on her lips. “After this weekend?”

  He kissed her again. “Let’s just say I’m optimistic.”

  Epilogue

  Two months later

  “It’s finished.”

  Tom slumped in the doorway of the bedroom, dark circles under his eyes and curly hair mussed from distracted tousling during his epic dissertation editing session at the kitchen table. Finn flipped back the covers on his side of the bed and patted the empty space next to her. “Every last edit?”

  “Every last edit.” He slid between the sheets and leaned back against the headboard with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. The sun had set hours ago, and the bedroom was dark but for the bedside lamp.

  “How long before I’m calling you Dr. Castle?” She twined her fingers with his, and he cracked open one tawny eye to shoot her a cocky, if tired, grin.

  “You can call me that right now if you want, Ms. Carey.”

  She snapped her Bullet Journal shut and smacked it lightly against his thigh. “Not yet. You have to earn that privilege.”

  “Then let’s hope my dissertation defense goes well next month.” The lines around his mouth had grown more pronounced as they’d entered March and the date for him to appear before the committee to answer their probing questions loomed ever closer. Wanting to ease the signs of weariness that dragged him down, Finn leaned forward to kiss first one corner of his mouth and then the other. In truth, what he needed was a straight twelve hours of sleep, but his restless brain rarely allowed that to happen.

  “Of course it will.” She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck. “You’re brilliant, and you’ve been working nonstop for weeks. You’re going to walk in and use your Tom Castle charm to own that room.”

  His arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her tightly against him in a one-armed hug, but Finn wanted more than that. She’d been sound asleep when he’d called it quits the past three nights, which was three nights too many to go without kissing him all over. She sat up to put the Bullet Journal on her bedside table, but he laid his hand on the red Moleskine cover still resting on his thigh. “May I?”

  She raised her brows but nodded, not sure why he’d be interested in her list of tasks for the upcoming week when they could instead be getting up to far more exciting things. But he surprised her by opening the book to an empty page, picking up her pen, and studying her with a glint in his eyes that ignited a hot spark in her stomach. Something was brewing in his brain, and her gut told her it was important.

  “I have some survey questions for you, Ms. Carey.”

  Although his businesslike tone was at odds with his threadbare Cubs T-shirt, she nodded gravely. “Survey questions? What are you researching?”

  He tapped one impatient finger on the journal cover and shot her a long look. “I’m asking the questions, ma’am.”

  Oooh, she loved that bossy tone, but she bit her lip against the smile that threatened and nodded for him to continue.

  He tapped the tip of the pen against the page. “To begin, on a scale of one to ten, how satisfied are you with your current romantic relationship?”

  “Hmm.” She tipped her head back and pretended to think. “Well, my boyfriend’s been pretty distracted with his dissertation, and last week I caught him microwaving coffee that had gotten cold instead of making a new pot.”

  “Mmm-hmm, okay. So his kitchen skills could be improved.” Tom ran his finger down the page as if checking something off a list. “Does he have any other areas that need attention?”

  Finn’s smile softened as she considered the delight this man brought to her life every day. “Let’s see… he makes me laugh and listens when I tell him about my day and plays with my hair and looks good in my fuzzy socks. I can’t think of a single thing I’d change.”

  The corner of Tom’s mouth kicked up. “So on a satisfaction scale of one to ten…”

  “Nine point nine,” she said firmly. “He loses point one for the coffee thing. I mean, we’re not animals.”

  “Okay, good.” Tom pretended to jot that down and then paused a beat before asking, “And how likely are you to remain in this relationship for the foreseeable future?”

  Her cheeks heated as Tom’s gaze remained on the page in front of him. Although they’d spent the bulk of their free time together since that most fortuitous blizzard, they rarely talked about the future. The closest they came was agreeing on a restaurant to try that weekend or daydreaming about chucking it all and moving somewhere tropical to escape the grueling Chicago winters.

  “Scale of one to ten?” She was stalling, unsure if she was brave enough to give him the answer that slammed against her rib cage and begged to be let loose.

  Tom looked up. “One to ten.” His voice was rough, his eyes burning into hers, and Finn realized that her answer mattered.

  She drew a deep breath, pushed the air out of her lungs, and said, “Ten.”

  Tom’s eyes brightened even more at her response. “And how likely is that response to change if your boyfriend joins the new economic think tank that’s opening its doors in Chicago this summer?”

  She gasped. “Really? You finally accepted one of your job offers?”

  He looked at her sternly. “Do I need to remind you again who’s asking the questions?”

  She looked down in mock meekness, although inside she was doing flips. “Very sorry, sir. A job at an ethical investing nonprofit gets an enthusiasti
c ten. And if it makes my boyfriend happy, then I’m happy.”

  “Excellent.” Tom nodded, then visibly tensed as he stared hard at the open journal page in front of him. “Last question. On a scale of one to ten, with one being ‘I am in a medically induced coma’ and ten being ‘I am running through the wall in a panic like the Kool-Aid Man,’ how much would it freak you out if your boyfriend told you he loved you tonight?”

  Finn’s throat closed up so tightly that she couldn’t push any words out, and her silence finally pulled Tom’s eyes from the page to meet hers. In them, she saw hope and heat and a touch of fear that she wanted to chase away for good.

  “Tom, I…” She blinked rapidly as tears started to gather, and Tom gently pressed a thumb to the corner of her lashes.

  “Scale of one to ten, Huck,” he said gruffly.

  “Ten. I mean one.” Her voice sounded thick, and her brain stopped processing numbers. “Whichever one gets you to say it to me right now, that’s the number I am.”

  Tom captured her hand with his and pressed a kiss to her palm, where his touch tingled as if this were the first time his skin had met hers.

  “I love you, Finn,” he said with a twist of his lips that showed off those perfect dimples. “So much. On a scale of one to ten, it’s ten million. They haven’t invented a Bullet Journal with enough pages to capture all the love in my heart for you.”

  Finn gave a little sob and moved her hand to his chest, seeking out the steady beat of his heart. “And I love you too, enough to fill ten million journals.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, thoroughly, leaving her warm and breathless and thrilled down to her toes. “Enough to endure ten million snowed-in weekends with me?”

  She twined her arms around his neck. “Enough to eat ten million of your omelets and drink ten million cups of coffee with you and listen to you read me ten million books.”

  He rolled to his back and carried her with him, stretching them out side by side on the mattress. “The luckiest day of my life was the day I overslept in a strange apartment.” He stroked a hand down her hair, and she wriggled even closer to him.

  “The luckiest day of my life was when you let me grovel to win you back,” she said, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “And guess what? Our luck’s only going to get better from here.”

  And then they both stopped talking so she could prove that she was right.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading Finn and Tom’s story! You’ll see them again in Tempting Taste, book 2 of the Tempt Me series, which follows Josie as she and her temper crash into a brooding wedding cake baker and upend his life. Turn the page to read an excerpt.

  Tempting Taste will be released on February 18, 2020, so preorder now!

  Tempting Taste excerpt

  Tempting Taste, book 2 in the Tempt Me series, will be available February 18, 2020. Click here to preorder!

  Take one chatty redhead.

  Mix in one brooding baker.

  Apply heat and watch them sizzle.

  CHAPTER 1

  Josie Ryan jerked awake. Yellow lights swam in her vision and clammy vinyl creaked under her hands as she bolted upright.

  The L. She must’ve dozed off on her way back to her River North apartment after the launch party. She yawned and pulled her phone from her bag. Almost two a.m. at the end of a very long work week.

  No wonder she’d nodded off. Every business in the Chicago area wanted to launch new products and host grand openings during the newly warm-ish temperatures of April, and she’d been sprinting from event to event for her marketing firm all month long, including this Friday night bash to celebrate a downtown club opening. Good thing she’d woken up before she’d missed her stop. But what had pulled her out of sleep?

  She heard the noise again: a raised voice.

  “Come on, baby, I’m just being friendly.”

  A man’s voice assaulted her ears from behind her, the whiny tone setting her teeth on edge. Then another voice reached her.

  “I said I’m not interested.”

  The quaver in the woman’s words prickled the skin on the back of Josie’s neck, and her discomfort jumped into overdrive when a mean edge crept into the man’s voice. “You should be grateful. Somebody like me thinks you’re worth talking to? You should be fucking grateful.”

  Yeah, Josie had heard enough. She surged to her feet and stepped into the aisle to face the couple sitting two rows back. A cowering woman pressed herself against the window glass, while a bristle-haired man draped an arm over the back of the seat and crowded against her. Nothing about the woman’s body language said any of this was welcome.

  “Excuse me.” Josie adopted her bossiest tone. “Is he bothering you?”

  The woman’s terrified brown eyes met Josie’s, and she nodded vigorously. The man didn’t drop his arm, but he did crane his neck to sneer at Josie. “Fuck off.”

  Rage burned across Josie’s skin, coating it like oil. God, she hated bullies. She narrowed her eyes and took a step forward. “Actually, I don’t think I can. See, that’s my friend. We went to school together.” Josie smiled at the terrified woman. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  The woman was obviously half a decade younger than Josie’s twenty-six, but she nodded anyway. “R-right. Not since g-graduation,” she whispered, her wide eyes never leaving Josie’s face.

  Josie advanced another step, wishing she had the ability to pull the other woman up and over the seat in front of her, the way she’d wished someone would pull her out of the bully’s reach as a kid. “That’s right. I’d love to catch up with her right now, without assholes like you getting in the way.”

  “Who you calling asshole, bitch?” The man snarled and lurched into the aisle. Only a few steps separated them, but Josie didn’t back away. She knew from experience that people like this guy preyed on weakness, so she leaned into her anger and held her ground. As for the other woman, the instant her harasser stood up, she slid across the bench and ran for the nearest exit. The train was in the process of slowing for its next stop, and within seconds, she’d darted out of the car, a mouse escaping the cobra’s jaws.

  The man didn’t turn to watch her go; he had new prey now. “Somebody needs to teach you some manners, you know that?” He eyed Josie with distaste, his hands curling into fists, and the first tingle of alarm slithered through her veins. He was wiry and not much taller than her own five-foot-five, but he looked pissed.

  Then she straightened her spine and stuck out her chest. He ought to look scared; her redhead had been activated. Poor motherfucker. He was in for it now.

  “My manners are fine. Yours could use some work, though.” She lifted her chin and rocked back on her heels, looking him up and down with a smirk. “Didn’t anybody teach you that women don’t usually ride empty subway cars hoping some ugly rando’ll sweat all over them? Does the hashtag ‘MeToo’ ring any bells?”

  The guy’s face turned red, and he got right in her face, so close his putrid breath burned all the way to her sinuses. “Snotty bitches, thinking they’re too good for men these days.” His thin lips curled in disgust. “Not that it matters. I wouldn’t put my dick in you for ten million dollars.”

  Now her hands were balled into fists, too. “Well, that’s a relief. Castration is so messy.”

  Oh God, oh God, was she about to get into an actual fight on the L? Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears. Next time, she’d be smarter about how she let her temper out. Next time, she’d try to deescalate instead of rushing straight to fuck-you-buddy-let’s-go mode. But that was next time. She was here now, and she’d just have to take care of herself like she always did.

  She loosened her stance and prepared to dodge if he came at her, frantically trying to recall where they’d told her to gouge during that self-defense class she’d taken at the Y last year. A shame she was wearing her most impractical heels.

  Suddenly, the man’s face paled, and he took three big steps back. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?
” All his bravado drained away, and the whine returned to his voice. “Jesus, I was just chatting up a cute girl. No harm intended.”

  He lifted his hands in surrender and backed toward the same exit Josie’s “friend” had taken at the earlier stop and oh, watching a humiliated harasser scramble down the steps and jog away as soon as the car slowed felt great. She was the biggest, baddest badass on this now-empty train.

  “Yeah, that’s right! You step right off and keep stepping!” she yelled at his retreating back through the closed train doors. “And mind your fucking manners next time!”

  She jabbed a finger in his direction with each word, smugly satisfied with her ability to handle herself and defend all of womanhood, no matter the personal risk. He’d recognized her inner predator, and he’d bowed before it.

  With a toss of her hair, she spun on her heel to return to her seat… and slammed into a solid wall of man.

  She sprang backward with a strangled cry, arms wind-milling as she tried to catch her balance. The Viking blocking her path clasped her upper arm with one giant paw, steadying her then releasing her just as quickly.

  “Dammit, you scared him off.”

  Behold, the true biggest badass on the train. He was well over six feet tall, with big broad shoulders, a big blond bun, and a big square jaw. No wonder that chuckle-fuck had turned tail and run.

  She glared at him, pissed that she hadn’t been the brutal enforcer she’d imagined. He merely held his hands out to his sides and muttered, “Sorry,” then turned to claim a seat several rows in front of her. “Thought you could use some backup.” He leaned his head against the window, linked his fingers over his battered moto jacket, and closed his eyes, apparently done with the conversation.