Forbidden: A Sinful Shares Romance

by Suzanne Halliday

  Now, if the love she dreamed of came in a sexy, muscular package, she would take that part as a bonus—because no doubt about it, if true love came in a nerd box with mismatched paper and ribbons, she was taking that too.

  And if the nerd in the box had a body to die for and wore glasses, well …

  “Marcus!” Izzy shrieked. “Stop it!”

  Making a kill me now face, Kristal watched their antics with zero interest. As much as she loved her friend, it pissed her off that she thought playing a dimwitted dress-up doll with impressive tits was her best play. Izzy was a thousand times cooler and way more interesting than what she put out there.

  Sighing melodramatically, she reached for more peanuts only to come up empty. Oh, shit. That wasn’t good. Kristal peered into the empty bowl to confirm that, yep, she’d eaten them all. Was it any wonder she had more squishy curves than sense?

  Spying her cell phone on the bar, she picked it up and snapped a quick shot of the empty bowl. There wasn’t much mystery who she was sending the picture to.

  Because they had a never-ending conversation open, she tapped on Robert’s name and went to the dialogue box. There, she tapped the pictures icon, located the shot of the empty bowl, and put it in the message. Not feeling the need for an explanation, she hit send and put the phone back on the bar.

  “Yo, Marcus,” she barked. Holding up the empty bowl, she waved it around. “Refill over here, please.”

  He barely gave her a nod due in large measure to Izzy and her antics. Marcus was an all right guy, but he had an adoring groupie base. Even if her friend got the dude in a permanent relationship, there’d be a never-ending parade of barstool divas waiting for a chance to take him down and, by default, crush Izzy. While that wasn’t what she wanted for her exuberant and well-meaning best friend, she had no room to talk. After all, it wasn’t like she was winning any awards, much less an honorable mention in the romance department.

  With not much more than a hurried glance in her direction, Marcus upended a bag of peanuts into the empty bowl, letting half of them spill onto the bar. Did he even notice? Maybe and maybe not. What counted was that he didn’t pause for a second longer than absolutely necessary—something that had a lot to do with the selfie party Iz was holding at the end of the bar. It looked to Kristal as though the bartender wasn’t all that pleased with other guys horning in on his good thing.

  Her phone vibrated. She smiled, forgot all about the social scene happening around her, and turned her attention to playtime with Robert. She picked up the phone in the Scooby Doo case and felt her heart begin to race.

  That was a little weird, right? She patted her chest once or twice, took a deep breath, and tapped the home button. Robert had answered her text.

  Dinner?

  A smile played upon her lips. Asshat.

  She tapped her finger softly on the bridge of her nose and murmured, “Think.” Suddenly, a response blossomed in her mind’s eye, and she laughed out loud.

  I showed you mine—now, you show me yours.

  Ha! She pressed send and put the phone face down on the bar. Let’s see what he does, she thought with a giggle.

  Scooping up piles of wayward nuts with her hands and dumping them into the bowl, she made half an effort to police the area. Her margarita was kicked long ago, and she’d wisely switched to heavily carbonated soda, but the peanuts, as nutrition, weren’t very smart. Nor were the tacos that the bar kitchen mass produced at a fairly fast clip on dollar night. She liked a good, crunchy taco as much as anybody, but what masqueraded as Mexican food at Margo’s left a lot to be desired.

  So what did all that mean? She was starving and starting to get grumpy about it.

  A solid five minutes passed before he answered her text. For one horrifying second, she imagined Robert out on a date or hanging out at home with a lady friend and wanted to die. The worry quickly vanished, though. She and her stepbrother were so close that she’d be the first one to know if he showed any sort of interest in a woman.

  Kristal squirmed on her barstool. The very idea of Robert and another woman, any woman, made her stomach gurgle.

  His answer was amusing and wordless. Just a snapshot of two takeout containers and a crumpled napkin next to an empty bottle of beer. Neither one of them would win an award for healthy eating. In her case, a love of carb bingeing and a genetic predisposition to generous curves spelled doom from an early age. Robert, however, could eat M & M’s nonstop, wash them down with strawberry milk, add some butterscotch Tastycakes along with piles of grilled red meat, and he’d still look like a model for Men’s Health magazine.

  Before she could formulate her next text, he pulled the Dad card from his wallet and asked, What are you drinking?

  Oh, come on. Really? Typing in a hurried frenzy, she needled him the way she always did—but with a smile on her face. It wasn’t at all sucky that Jeremy and Robert were overprotective.

  Let me guess—my mom sent out a Facebook blast telling everyone my plans for the evening. So then Pops ran to you and demanded a sober check. Don’t worry, DAD, she typed in all caps. One and done.

  His reply came so quickly, she jolted a bit. So you’re being a good girl?

  Oh, poop. She hated the good girl question even though it was an innocent one. Or was it? She couldn’t tell anymore. What constituted being a good girl when you were age ten or twelve wasn’t at all what the term meant in adulthood.

  Was she a bed hopper? No—and truth be told, even Iz agreed that she qualified for re-certification as a virgin. At least that was what Cosmo says happens when denied access is counted in years. But that in no way meant she was anything close to a good girl. Not with the dirty scenarios running riot in her head—all featuring some stepbrother debauchery.

  Her hesitation must have lingered longer than she thought because the next thing she knew, he texted an apology.

  My bad. None of my business.

  She gulped and felt an immense sadness wash over her. Oh, babe, she thought. It’s more your business than you realize.

  And that right there was her life in a miniature. She was in love with Robert. Even thinking the words felt wicked and out of bounds. Those two things doomed her to an empty future because her heart wanted what it wanted, and unless there was magical interference or a way to rewrite the script, she just couldn’t bring herself to let anyone else get close.

  It was Robert Peyton or no one. Period.

  Knowing she shouldn’t play this very dangerous emotional game didn’t stop her from answering truthfully. She wanted him to know even if it wouldn’t change anything.

  Good? You’re not here, so of course, the answer is yes.

  She might be crazy for hitting send, but so what? What she didn’t expect was for him to keep the ball in play.

  Why, Kristal Devin! Is that a challenge? Be careful darlin’--you know I never shirk from a good dare.

  Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. What? Did he just throw down with a taunt? Unable to slow her roll, she shot off a hasty reply. I’m happy for you. #Daredevil But better watch your step. The good girl thing is getting old. Proceed with extreme caution.

  It was easy to imagine his laugh. Robert had a deep, sexy chuckle that might or might not be on a list of addictions. All she knew was that when he laughed, her heart soared.

  Damn.

  Like a bat out of hell, Izzy swooped in from nowhere and snatched the phone from her hand.

  “Oh my god, Kristal. Really?” Her disapproving friend looked at the text-in-progress and scowled. “This bar is crawling with single, good looking, up-for-party dudes, and what are you doing?” Izzy’s harsh grunt hit Kristal’s conscience with a thud. “From the looks of this,” she said with a wave of the phone, “you’re flirting with …”

  She grabbed the phone away and hissed, “Shut up, Iz.”

  In two seconds, her friend got right up in her face. “No, I will not shut up. You’re killing me, girlfriend. For real.”

  Kristal grumbled and
tried to make a stern face, but Izzy wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

  “Enough of this. You either tell him how you feel or I will.”

  If looks could kill, Izzy Newman would require a toe tag and body bag.

  “Sweetie,” Izzy cried in a pained murmur as she leaned close. “Until you come clean about your feelings, you have no future.”

  “Telling him won’t make a difference, Iz. He’s still my brother.”

  “Oh, dear lord ... no, he’s not. Stop with the drama. Is it weird that your Brady Bunch sibling—someone you didn’t even know until you were five—is the only guy you’ve ever really fancied? Well, maybe a little. But seriously, who do you imagine is going to care?”

  “Don’t be naïve. Everyone will care. And talk.” She gave a half-shudder. “I can’t open that box. Can’t put Pops and Mom, or Harry, for that matter, through the wringer because I’ve got the hots for something that’s taboo.”

  “Excuse me,” Izzy bit out. “What is your name?”

  “Uh, Kristal?”

  “Don’t be dense,” she smirked. “Your full name.”

  “Kristal Devin.”

  “Mmmhmm. And this taboo person? What’s his name?”

  She sighed. Heavily. Her lips thinned into a tight line. “Robert Peyton.”

  “Right. See? Not related.”

  Snarling, she pushed back with some snark of her own. “Blow me. You know damn well Jeremy adopted me, so technically, we can share the same name.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kristal. Get a grip. Either shit or get off the pot. Life is passing by while you cry into your pillow every night over a man you’ve decided is off-limits. Tell him. Tell him and have the conversation. If the wall you imagine separates you is too high to get around or climb over, then so be it. At least you’ll know and can move on. Kristal,” she said with heavy emphasis. “What if he’s suffering too? Do you want that for Robert? Huh? Do you?”

  Well, shit. There was an argument she couldn’t bat back. Living with regret was fine for her, but she wasn’t okay with him being in the same boat. She never wanted anything less for Robert than his happiness.

  “I hate you,” she murmured.

  Izzy wrapped an arm around her and hugged. “I know. And I’m sorry to be the bitch, but like I’ve been saying, I really think he’s in love with you too. For real, sweets. Just tell him. Trust Robert and, for Pete’s sake, have a little faith.”

  They stared at each other for a minute, and then Izzy snickered. “Jesus. Answer the man, would you? If your phone keeps buzzing like crazy, it’ll qualify as a vibrating sex toy.”

  She smiled. “I love you despite the fact that you’re a slutty bitch.”

  “Speaking of slutty bitch ... if you want to escape, go ahead. Marcus wants to show me what he says is the best spot in the city to see the bridge lit up at night.”

  She gasped in mock horror. “Are you nuts? You’ll never make it to last call much less show up for work on time if all you’re going to do is sit here and watch him mix drinks.”

  “Ah, no sweat.” Izzy snickered. “He’s off in an hour.” She waggled her brows suggestively and stuck out the tip of her tongue.

  “Don’t tease. Really? I can go? You know I’m out of here in a flash in that case, right?”

  Izzy’s familiar chuckle spoke to the many times they’d stretched the boundaries of good behavior. With a jaunty salute, she gave her a wink. “At ease, Wingman. Thank you for your service.”

  They laughed and high fived.

  “Uber or Robert to the rescue?”

  “Oh, god,” Kristal groaned. “Uber. I’m not completely out of my mind. If I ask for a rescue, well, you know. I’ll send you a bill.”

  “Hey. Whatever works.”

  They hugged it out, and then Kristal grabbed her purse and bolted for the ladies’ room. If she timed things just right, she could catch a ride and be home and in her jammies before the hour was out.

  Stopping in the dark hallway where the restrooms were located, she turned her attention to the interrupted volley of texts.

  Her heart however did a country two-step when she read how her last text was answered.

  Challenge accepted. Let the games begin.

  Oh, no he didn’t! She giggled involuntarily and then quickly glanced around to see if anyone noticed.

  Wait. What’s happening? LOL Is that challenge me being a good girl or good bad girl. I’m confused. #Blonde

  Was she insane? Yes. Yes, she was. But Izzy was right. It was past time to work her feelings out. Robert Peyton might not be as forbidden or out of reach as she imagined. Then again, she might also be sniffing up the wrong tree. The only way to settle this once and for all was to meet it head-on.

  He answered right away. Of course, he did! Robert wasn’t a procrastinator. His idea of what constituted round one, though, made her bark out a laugh.

  Seriously? #Blonde? That’s your fall back? Nice try. For the record, your good girl side is comedy gold, and you haven’t introduced me to the bad girl. Yet.

  Holy guacamole! Shit was getting real. What should she do?

  Determined to stop more furious lip chewing, she put put a fist against her mouth and thought. She was pretty sure Robert was testing her. Izzy’s words came back. What if he was suffering too?

  With a nervous sigh, she looked at the phone, bit the crap out of her puffy lip, and typed. I’ll check her schedule and see if she’s available. If she is, please indicate the date and time for your reservation.

  A snicker that turned into an unladylike snort punctuated her side of the message. She waited nervously for his answer. He wasted no time, and she smiled at what she hoped was his eagerness.

  Spaghetti from Nora’s followed by the slashfest opening of Die by Death. I’ll pay, but the popcorn is on you.

  Die by Death? Oooh, that man! She was dying to see the new film. He knew her too damn well, and who was she to squash such a great plan when some movie-time blood, guts, and gore gave her the excuse to huddle close and cling to him like a scaredy-cat? Not exactly bad girl behavior, but you just never know where things might lead.

  Deal. And just so you know? Despite what you may think, I can’t be had for a cheap meal and matinee.

  He answered directly and added several lines of emojis at the end. Stop yer bitchin’. It’s not a matinee, and Nora’s ain’t cheap.

  She shot back with every emoji that would make him laugh, typed TTYL for talk to you later, and then ordered a ride home. Stashing the phone in her purse, she continued to the ladies’ room with a happy heart.

  Dinner and a movie. Sounded like a date to her. Maybe for the first time ever she didn’t immediately shut down her excitement with a reminder that the man she lusted after was her brother. And why? Because Izzy hit the nail on the head. They weren’t blood related, and who the fuck cared anyway?

  Chapter Three

  Watching Kristal’s bodacious ass sway in a pair of skintight pants as she walked ahead of him into Nora’s gave Robert an inconvenient hard-on. He knew that, like most women, she imagined her voluptuous derrière qualified for the indignity of a plus-size label—but he couldn’t care less. Size wasn’t much of a factor when the woman in question was simply the smartest, funniest, most loving, and completely desirable female to walk the planet. Besides, he knew what she looked like in a bathing suit and had no problem joining the amen chorus when it came to turning into a knuckle-dragging beast at the sight.

  Deciding it best to switch gears unless he wanted to endure public embarrassment, he shifted his gaze and pondered the shoes she wore. Took less than ten seconds to realize that was a mistake too because there wasn’t anything sexier than a confident woman rocking a pair of outrageous heels. Especially when those heels felt like a deliberate provocation.

  Shit.

  Smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt, he tried concentrating on anything but the female sending some really confusing signals.

  Good luck with that, his
conscience sniggered.

  The truth was that he’d been battling the mother of all boners from the second his eyes opened this morning. And he wasn’t talking about a normal morning erection either. Nope. His hard cock was one hundred percent courtesy of knowing he’d be spending his evening in Kristal’s company.

  What this revealed about him as a person was currently under review.

  The pleasant hostess escorting them to their table smiled indulgently when he hurried to help Kristal get seated. His father was a bit of a stickler about manners, so he learned from an early age the importance of eye contact, a firm handshake, and little things like holding a lady’s chair and being polite.

  Robert schooled his expression when his fingers drifted softly on the exposed part of her neck made bare by the way she wore her hair. She surprised him by looking up and meeting his eyes. He felt his gaze soften when they connected. Kristal was effortlessly beautiful with a seductive girl-next-door vibe that wasn’t helping the situation with his dick.

  On autopilot, he asked the hostess to send over a carafe of the house wine as he took his seat. Kristal’s’ snarky smirk and gentle chuckle got his attention.

  “Plying me with booze won’t help, you know. Despite what your ego thinks, I can drink your ass under the table without much effort.”

  He grinned and made a comical face. “The alcohol is for me, you wench. If I have to spend an evening watching heads explode and throats being slashed, then I want to do it with a buzz.”

  “Pussy.”

  The approaching waiter heard what she said and bit back a laugh. Jealousy and an overdose of territorial fervor grabbed him by the balls. The same feelings that caused him to sabotage the chain on Timmy Goldbloom’s bike when the obnoxious ten-year-old had bullied Kristal on the playground.

  Mortified but proud of the way he behaved as a fifteen-year-old, he remembered confessing to Mara and his dad after the guilt had eaten away at him. From the beginning, he just couldn’t tolerate anything that made Kristal unhappy, and heaven help the snot-nosed brat who had the misfortune to make her cry.