Seduce: A Cariad Romance Three Book Bundle (Cariad Collections)

by Stein, Charlotte

  ‘Drink this.’

  ‘What is it?’ I ask.

  ‘Don’t ask questions!’ she insists. ‘You come to me for solace. You come to me for advice and I will heal you, but the healing process begins with a shot.’

  I eye the shot glass suspiciously. Carly coughs, so I concede and drink and it burns all the way down.

  ‘Lightweight,’ she mutters, retrieving the glass. She walks over to the coffee table and pours me a fresh shot from the Tequila bottle.

  ‘I really hate Tequila,’ I tell her, with the taste of Mexico’s finest memory-loss potion very much alive in my mouth.

  ‘Good for you.’ Carly hands me the glass refilled. ‘Drink!’

  ‘I don’t want to get loaded.’

  ‘Drink,’ she insists, so I do and it burns just as badly the second time around. I blink away the tears.

  ‘When was the last time you got loaded?’ she asks.

  ‘I can’t remember,’ I say.

  ‘That’s shocking!’ Carly retrieves the glass, intent on refilling it for a second time.

  ‘No more,’ I plead.

  ‘Drink,’ she orders.

  ‘I’ll yack if I keep going at this rate.’

  ‘Last one,’ promises Carly.

  ‘I think you’re lying.’

  ‘That’s a terrible thing for you to say.’

  ‘It is,’ I agree. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re forgiven,’ says Carly. ‘Now drink.’

  I sink it. This isn’t getting any easier. I’m pleased to see Carly remove the bottle to safety.

  ‘You want to talk about it?’ she asks from the kitchen.

  ‘I feel really stupid,’ I admit.

  Carly returns from the kitchen with a monster tub of Chunky Monkey and two spoons.

  ‘It’s for emergencies,’ she explains, noticing my raised eyebrows. Placing the tub on the coffee table, she hands me a spoon. ‘Dig in.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re not stupid,’ she reminds me, levering the lid off the ice cream tub. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I got dressed up.’

  ‘Expensive lingerie?’

  ‘Check. I went to surprise him.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ says Carly, a step ahead of me. ‘It wasn’t him who was surprised?’

  ‘Yes. I should have called.’

  ‘Honey, that’s not the way it works when you’re surprising your man. So how bad was it?’

  ‘Some floozy on her knees sucking him off. It really wasn’t dignified.’

  ‘Did you recognise her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Carly assures me. ‘We can track her down.’

  ‘You’re not going to stalk her on Facebook?’

  ‘Don’t be a spoilsport,’ says Carly. ‘I’m getting really good at it.’

  ‘That’s worrying.’

  ‘Don’t use that tone,’ she counters. ‘Sometimes needs must.’ She reaches for a spoon and carves into chocolate heaven. ‘You’re not going to call him, are you?’

  ‘No.’ I’m not going to, but then instantly I lose my nerve. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You’re not going to call him. He’s officially binned and you, my dear, are moving on.’ Her eyes light up. ‘Of course, we can do that now.’

  ‘We can do what now?’ I ask. My inner calm is all at sea. Carly shouldn’t be this happy. She leaves the couch momentarily, returning with a bottle of whisky and two glasses. ‘For courage,’ she insists and pours two measures.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I reply.

  ‘Drink,’ she insists. She’s like a broken record, but I drink all the same.

  ‘Now you’re single and back on the market.’

  ‘Easy there,’ I mutter. ‘I’m hardly ready to get back out there and start dating. My heart has just been broken.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ declares Carly. ‘You didn’t love him. You were always complaining about him. It was only the sex that was keeping you together.’

  ‘The sex was good,’ I admit.

  ‘He’s not the only man who knows what he’s doing in the bedroom,’ she reminds me.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask as she taps away on her little tablet.

  ‘You’ll see,’ she replies with a mischievous smile, crossing her legs and reaching for her drink. She is shorter than I am but has the physique of a dancer – that is until her breasts grew and then grew some more. I’m jealous of Carly’s breasts and a little bit envious of her lovers. They must be fun to play with and now I know I’m drunk because my mind is wandering down avenues it doesn’t need to go down. Both having big, brown eyes and dark locks, we occasionally get confused as sisters, but clearly I’m the prettier one. (It’s a joke, OK!) She is seriously good looking.

  ‘No, seriously, what are you doing?’ I say. ‘You’re making me nervous.’

  ‘I can see that,’ she replies. ‘Put your trust in me, girlie, and I will deliver to you a happy ever after.’

  ‘You’ve hacked George Clooney’s account and got me a date?’

  ‘No, I’m still working on that little conundrum,’ she admits.

  ‘So what are you doing?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ she says and continues tapping on the tablet.

  ‘You’re not signing me up for internet dating, are you?’

  ‘No,’ she replies. ‘This is so much cooler.’

  ‘You’re scaring me.’

  ‘Chill out, stressed girl,’ she murmurs. ‘I’m about to make all of your dreams come true.’

  ‘How are you going to do that?’

  ‘I’m entering you in The Heavenly Baker contest.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘Yes I am,’ says Carly, undeterred. ‘We’ve spoken about this and now, with that deadbeat kicked to touch, it’s the perfect opportunity for you to get your rocks off with our studly baker boy!’

  ‘No! Hang on – did you just call my boyfriend a deadbeat?’

  ‘I did, and he’s officially your ex now so it’s perfectly fine.’

  ‘Exactly how long have you thought of him as a deadbeat?’

  ‘Since the two of you hooked up.’

  ‘And you never considered saying anything?’

  ‘No. You would have sulked. You were into him. It’s not my place to say anything.’

  ‘Wow! You’re a better liar than I thought. I never knew.’

  ‘I’m a world-class liar when I need to be,’ explains Carly.

  ‘What if he’d proposed?’

  ‘It was never going to happen.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘Yes, I do. You were convenient, but he was never that into you and you chose to ignore that because the sex was good.’

  ‘But if he had proposed?’

  ‘I would have made you see sense like now.’ She holds up the tablet, smiling at me, her finger hovering over the send instruction.

  ‘No, wait!’ I plead. ‘At least let me read it.’

  ‘No chance of that happening,’ says Carly, shaking her head. ‘I’m not that dense. You’ll delete all my beautiful prose.’

  ‘I won’t. I promise.’

  ‘You actually sound very convincing but I’ve been burned before,’ she warns me. ‘I’m immune to your feminine wiles. This is going to happen and you are not going to stop me. Your Jedi mind tricks will not work on me, girlie!’

  ‘You’re a little bit drunk, aren’t you?’

  ‘I may have tested the Tequila before your arrival,’ admits Carly.

  ‘Wow! I’ve only just worked that out.’

  ‘That’s because you’re a little bit smashed now,’ she says. ‘But don’t worry. Everything is going to turn out brilliantly. You have my word on that.’

  ‘How can you possibly know?’ I ask.

  ‘Some things a girl just knows.’

  ‘Well, I don’t. Let me see the application.’

  ‘OK,’ says Carly. She adjusts her grip on the tablet to hand it to me but then pa
sses her finger over the send button. ‘Oops!’ she murmurs, smiling guiltily. ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘I wonder?’ I reply, shaking my head.

  ‘There’s nothing for it.’ She shrugs. ‘We might as well drink.’

  ‘Except for the small detail that we both have to be at work early tomorrow,’ I remind her. ‘I promised the Clarks I’d have their anniversary cake finished by the close of play.’

  ‘Why would you do something silly like that?’ enquires Carly, frowning at me.

  ‘It may have something to do with me being the boss.’

  ‘Just have a drink,’ she urges. ‘It’ll all seem clearer in the morning.’

  ‘You’re such a liar!’

  ‘But you still love me.’ She pours another measure of whisky for both of us and hands me a glass.

  ‘I will throw up.’

  ‘That’s a price I think we’re willing to pay.’ Carly raises her glass aloft. ‘I think we should toast.’

  ‘To what are we toasting?’ I ask.

  ‘To useless men and to starting over,’ says Carly. ‘I still believe in fairy tales and happy ever after!’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’ We clink glasses and drink. The evening gets blurry. That often happens when alcohol and Carly are involved.

  Chapter Two

  In Dreams

  The bar has a modern aesthetic; black marble and chrome and fancy cocktails with a lot of foliage in them. I sit at the bar in my best little black cocktail dress and matching black heels. I have my hair swept up as I nurse my comedy cocktail, pretending to ignore the rest of the clientele, but secretly I’m checking them out, running stories in my head of their secret lives. The guy in the suit sitting in the booth with the smiling girl – an office affair for sure. The girl sitting alone at the table is trawling for rough sex, someone to dull the pain of her lonely life until she has to clock back into the rat race again in the morning, and the guy in the black suit heading in my direction is a government assassin. He nods at the barman before turning his gaze back in my direction. A knowing smile; he is far too assured for his own good, but those eyes, azure blue, have clearly been sold with their very own tractor beam because I’m finding it impossible to look away. The crew cut adds to the action man physique and now my dirty little mind is going into overdrive wondering how good he looks naked underneath that sharply cut suit.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asks, his voice a low growl that is making my insides jump around like so many beans on a speaker drum.

  ‘I don’t normally accept drinks from strangers,’ I reply. ‘You hear stories in the news all the time.’

  ‘You do,’ he agrees, nodding back at the barman. ‘I believe some of them are even true.’

  The comment brings the corners of my mouth curling into a smile despite my best intentions, and then he smiles and it is a thing of wonder. I’m going to have to hold tight to my panties because this boy is total trouble.

  ‘One drink is all I’m offering,’ he says warmly. ‘You can take it or leave it. I won’t be offended.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I say.

  ‘Do we have a cynic in the room?’ he asks.

  ‘I know what you want.’

  ‘So you’re a cynic and a mind reader?’

  ‘So it’s one drink with no strings attached?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And if I looked like that woman over there?’ I point with my eyes.

  He follows and smiles again. Murmurs, ‘Definitely no strings attached now.’

  ‘It’s as I suspected,’ I say.

  ‘And if I looked like the guy over there?’ he says, indicating with his gaze.

  I look.

  ‘You wouldn’t still be talking to me.’

  I smile. He has a point. So maybe then we’re both hypocrites.

  ‘One drink, then,’ I say by way of agreement.

  ‘The lady will have …’

  Sex, please, and lashings of it. I meet him outside the door to the ladies’. I feel warm all over as the alcohol buzzes through me. He grins, self-assured and in control, a dream man for the age, and pushes open the door. I watch his eyes; there is absolutely no fear in them.

  His hand closes on mine, fingers entwining, and the jolt is immediate, and suddenly my body is not my own to control. I am possessed by his spirit. The door to the restroom closes behind us. He doesn’t wait to see if we are alone. He senses it like the natural predator he is but I don’t feel afraid. I feel energised. I feel reborn. I feel like anything is suddenly possible, as if a door to a completely new world has been opened. I am a giddy schoolgirl facing the world with innocent eyes, but I am far from innocent. His lips close on mine and the heat of his body pressing against me is a neutron bomb detonating my soul.

  ‘Shouldn’t we take this somewhere more private?’ I suggest, my eyelids fluttering from the heat we are generating. His right hand is resting on the small of my back as his left cradles the back of my neck. I am at his mercy and it feels completely natural.

  ‘OK,’ he agrees. Removing his left hand, he pushes open the cubicle door and guides me in, securing the door shut behind us.

  ‘It’s not exactly what I had in mind,’ I admit.

  ‘Improvise,’ he whispers. Before I can offer further comment his lips are silencing mine and my body heat is going supernova. He is a modern-day Don Juan, his every touch seducing my body and soul. I want to give in. I want to give myself up to his hypnotic touch but a little part of me cries caution.

  ‘Trust me,’ he whispers as the warmth of his lips touches my neck.

  I want to, but I have been burned before.

  His fingers twine with mine as he backs me further up against the cubicle wall and when I open my eyes those heavenly eyes of his are watching me.

  ‘You don’t trust me,’ he says, his voice that of a purring lion.

  ‘I want to,’ I admit too readily.

  ‘But there’s a little voice whispering to you to be careful.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me where it’s whispering?’ A simple smile crosses his face; that angelic face so loaded with devilry. If I am going to walk then it has to be now. To stay is tantamount to collusion.

  ‘Here.’ I touch my neck. His lips follow.

  ‘Do you hear the voice whispering anywhere else?’

  ‘Here.’ I touch my elbow. His lips follow.

  ‘And here,’ I murmur, touching the palm of my hand. His lips follow.

  His lips start to wander and I start to lose control, though I am kidding myself if I ever thought I was in control of this situation. He kisses my stomach through the fabric of my dress as he crouches before me, his hands resting on my thighs, hot to the touch, his palms sizzling through my flesh. Gently he starts to push up the boundary of my dress and I do nothing to stop him. My body tenses in anticipation and I feel the buzz begin deep in my stomach. Yes, I want this. I know I shouldn’t but tonight I don’t care. Let the whispers go unheard and let the good girl walk away. Tonight I feel wicked. Tonight I want to walk on the wild side.

  He inches the dress further up my thighs, seeking my ultimate prize. I start to imagine how his tongue will feel pressing against my pussy and the glorious sensation of having his fingers inside me massaging my clit, stretching me, tasting me, working me. Yes, I really need this tonight.

  He pushes my dress up further exposing the crotch of my panties. I shiver with anticipation and await the tell-tale dragging of panties away from my sex, the delicate shiver as the air hits me and then the super-heated warmth of his tongue brushing against my pussy. I bite my lips in anticipation of the groans that will emanate from deep within my soul and press my palms against the walls to steel myself in preparation of the sensual assault that is about to befall me. I can almost feel his breath on my thighs as he prepares to devour me. Just a moment more and then I will …

  ‘Dude! Dude! Dude looks like a lady!’ shrieks Steven Tyler as my alarm clock wails into life.

  �
�Fuck!’

  My glorious dream lies shattered, the pieces lying broken on my duvet all around; in seconds, they will disintegrate and vanish into that magical place to which all dreams return. I lie back in the land of the living, hot and bothered and seriously unfulfilled. How has it come to this, that my dreams are more X-rated than my real life? It is a sad indictment of 21st century living when a girl has to get her rocks off unaided. For a brief, tantalizing moment I consider closing my eyes with the sole intention of chasing my dream down but I know it is now a futile endeavour. With each passing second my dream drifts further away from me and reality takes an increasingly steely grip on my senses. I have a job. I have employees. I have to go to work.

  ‘Fuck it!’

  Chapter Three

  Bright Lights, Killer Smile

  I sit on the train, watching the countryside roll past outside my window, and wonder whether I’m doing the right thing. I was drunk when Carly sent in my application and, eyeing the drinks cart as the railway employee rolls it slowly past, getting into the same state now strikes me as sound. The employee looks but I smile and allow him to move on. Maybe it’s not such a stellar idea, after all. I need some way of containing these butterflies, though, before they break loose and run amok. I haven’t felt this nervous since I started dating boys but perhaps that says more about me than it should.

  The magazine lies unwanted on the seat next to me. Try as I might, I cannot sustain the effort required to flip through the glossy pages and the vacuous articles about this year’s fashion. Sad, I know, but completely true. All I can think about is meeting the Heavenly Baker himself, and not in a good way. I’ve read many times about people who’ve met their idols and more often than not they wish they hadn’t. They say that the dream is often far more satisfying than the reality and the closer I roll to the Big City the more I start to think they are right. I want him to like me. No, I want him to fall head-over-heels-crazy-in-love with me, but this is real life and not the silver screen. You’ll be lucky if he gives you a smile, I tell myself. Think about it, girl! He’s rich and successful and surrounded by beautiful people. You’re a small-town girl running a moderately successful bakery. He’s major league compared to you. Stop believing in fairy tales and get your head straight.