Enticing Emma

by Allie Standifer

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Enticing Emma

  ISBN # 978-0-85715-266-4

  ©Copyright Allie Standifer 2010

  Cover Art by April Martinez ©Copyright August 2010

  Edited by Jess Bimberg

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2010 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom

  .

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  Club Botticelli

  ENTICING EMMA

  Allie Standifer

  Dedication

  To Tammie:

  For always understanding, being there and making me laugh when I never thought I could.

  Chapter One

  Fake silver snowflakes dangled over her head as Emma Flintock weaved her way through Club Botticelli’s dancing patrons. Low, sultry music pumped through the high tech speakers while soft lighting added an overall erotic effect to warehouse-sized room. Her black silk top and matching tights looked so out of place among the wildly dressed dancers.

  At least here at Club B she wouldn’t be mocked for not-so-slim hip size. After all, her good friend, Olivia Paisley, had started the club to cater to men and women outside the size-two categories. In spite of all the naysayers, the club turned into the city’s hottest night spot. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have a talk with Livia about all the damn silver and purple decorations.

  She hated this time of year. Hated being reminded of the fact she was alone and probably would be for the rest of her life. Winter Solstice, like every other major holiday her friends celebrated, only stabbed home her empty bed and brought back memories of the only man to ever break her heart. Before thoughts of Brock could drag her down, Emma shook her head and focused on something besides the wildly dancing club goers and the holiday decorations mocking her everywhere she looked.

  Across the room, a swirl of sunshine blonde hair caught her attention. Oh yeah, she mentally reminded herself, that’s what she had to be grateful for. Loyal friends beyond her wildest dreams. The blonde hair belonged to Briley Evans, owner of Real People Travel, a travel agency that catered to people above size-two persuasion. Her outspoken friend gestured to the group surrounding her, waving her arms with abandon to emphasis whatever point she wanted to make.

  The circle of people laughed, and Emma felt her heart expand with love. So what if she didn’t have a man in her life? Good friends were worth more than ten men combined. And they stuck around longer. And, if you were really lucky…wore the same shoe size.

  “Emma!” Recee, the first to spot her, cried out in pleasure. “About time you drug yourself out of your book. I had the National Guard on speed dial in case we needed heavy lifting to dig you out.”

  Everyone laughed, including Emma who, as a best-selling romance author, was known to lose track of time and reality two weeks before deadline. Feeling a flush of embarrassment creep of her cheeks, she tucked a wayward strand of curly hair behind her ear. “The book is safely in the hands of my editor. I’m all yours now.”

  “Or until the next plot hits you.” Briley smirked before taking a large sip of the amber liqueur swirling in her glass.

  “The life of a writer.”

  “We’re glad you made it, Em,” Olivia Paisley broke in. “And I, for one, can’t wait to get my hands on your latest book. It’s Stone’s story, right. River’s mysterious yet haunted brother?”

  Amazed, as always, that someone like Olivia actually bought, read and enjoyed her work, Emma nodded. “Yeah, he seemed to be a fan favourite.”

  “Well, he certainly was a favourite of mine.” The former supermodel winked.

  It warmed Emma’s heart to see her friend so content after years of doubting her sexual appeal. A cheating fiancé had that effect on any woman, even glamorous curvy models with looks to die for.

  Two strong muscular arms pulled Olivia against a wide masculine chest. “Too bad you’ve only got room in your life for one favourite now,” Ethan Newton proclaimed before leaning down to place a loving kiss on Olivia’s upturned mouth.

  “The sacrifices I make to keep my man happy.”

  But anyone looking at the couple saw they were head over heels in love with each other. Though jealousy nipped at her, Emma truly felt happy for them. They deserved their happily ever after the troubles they’d been through to be together.

  Recee snorted in disgust. “Any more of this lovey-dovey crap and I’m going to lose my dinner. I’m surrounded by romance, sappy music and people in love. Ugh, the only thing worse than the holidays is Valentine’s Day.”

  At five-foot-ten with curly brown hair and unusual navy blue eyes, Recee could have had any man she wanted, but the plus-sized jewellery designer never dated and never explained her reasons why.

  “Sing it, Sister Recee,” Emma agreed then realised she should have kept her mouth shut when five pairs of curious eyes swung her way. “What?”

  “Em, you write romance novels. They are nothing but happily ever after. How could you not love Valentine’s Day?” Olivia asked, confusion wrinkling her pretty brow while her eyes narrowed.

  Immediately, a pair of sky blue eyes came to mind. Yeah, she wrote love stories for a living, but it didn’t mean she believed in one for her own life. Reality had already killed that dream. But she didn’t want her friends to know of the man who’d broken her heart so many years ago. The pain had diminished, but the shame of not being enough lived on.

  Since the truth would only lead to more questions and embarrassment, Emma touted out the party line of singles throughout the world. “It’s a holiday made up by greeting card companies to sucker men into spending money and women into demanding they spend it. All in an effort to prove their love, which is what the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year are for. I’d much rather receive tulips on an ordinary Wednesday because a man was thinking of me.”

  “You tell ‘em, sister.” Recee lifted her hand up to high-five Emma. “Besides, we’re smart ladies, we work for a living, and if we want flowers or candy, we can damn well go buy it ourselves.”

  “Oh thank God,” Ethan muttered before pulling away from Olivia. “I see my brother just walked in. I’m going over to talk manly things so I don’t get kicked out the testosterone club. Or my balls just might shrivel up and fall off in protest.”

  With a quick but passionate kiss for Olivia, Ethan left their group and almost ran to where his brother stood across the club.

  “He’s a work in progress,” Olivia admitted with a secret smile on her face.

  “Oh, I’ll bet he is.” Briley smirked good-naturedly and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  “Where’s Trinity?” Emma asked, noticing their fifth member missing for the first time.

  “Sh
e called and said something about running late. She’s having problems with the security for her next show. If she’s not here by the time we leave for dinner, then she’ll join us at the restaurant.” Recee looked annoyed by the delay, but lately, everything annoyed the jewellery designer.

  “Enough about Trinity,” Emma broke in before Recee’s mood could deteriorate further. “Tell us all about Ethan’s plan for your first Valentine’s Day,” she demanded of Olivia. Though the big lovers’ holiday loomed in the distance, she knew her friend would have already made big plans.

  The other woman laughed before taking a sip of her bottled water. “You just said what a joke the holiday was. Why would you care what Ethan and I do?”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Just because I think it’s the lamest day of the year does not mean I don’t want my friend, who happens to be in love with a great man, to be wined and dined with the best of them.”

  “Don’t try to understand the girl, Livia,” Briley said, leaning back against the bar. “She’s a writer and she’s got her own separate reality.”

  Feeling as mature as a two-year old, Emma stuck her tongue out. “Lot you know. My reality is filled with buff naked men falling over themselves to grant my every whim. I’m their sex goddess and they worship at my feet.”

  “I think I want in on that.” A familiar husky voice came from behind her. “Show me where to sign up.”

  Emma whirled around, feeling her ankle length cotton skirt swirl around her legs as she faced the man who’d haunted her dreams for the past six years. “You,” she whispered, unable to believe her own eyes.

  No matter how much she blinked, his image remained. All six feet of him with the same summer blue eyes she remembered. His cheekbones stood out in stark relief against his tanned skin while small lines fanned out from the corner of his eyes. But new details competed for her attention. His blond hair had been cut brutally short, a scar bisected his lips, and his build, no longer lanky, had filled out with muscle.

  “Brock Cage,” she said. How could he be standing there in front of her? After all these years and all the miles she’d put between them?

  “Hello, Emma.” His lips curved in that familiar half smile that used to make her heart race. “Miss me, baby?”

  Then he leant down, pulled her into his arms and took possession of her mouth, as if nothing had changed between them. Like he’d never broken her heart and left her standing alone on their wedding day.

  Chapter Two

  Home.

  The word screamed from his soul the minute Brock pulled a shocked Emma into his arms. After the nightmare of the past six years, touching this woman made him feel clean again.

  Amazingly enough, she tasted the same—like sunshine and as sweet as rainbows. Guiltlessly, he used her gasp of shock to slide his tongue between her lips and plunder her mouth the way he’d dreamt every fucking night.

  Part of him couldn’t accept that Emma, his Emma, was back in his arms. It felt too much like a fantasy to be real, but when her small fists started pounding on his back, Brock knew he was finally back where he belonged.

  With regret, he lifted his head to stare at the only woman he’d ever loved. With too many emotions running through him, Brock fell back on humour to cover the depth of his need. “You don’t call or write, Em. I might start thinking you don’t care anymore.”

  “Get your hands off her,” an irate female voice cut through their cocoon of solitude, “if you want to walk out of here with the same parts you walked in with.” A tall, lushly stacked woman with masses of curly brown hair and dangerously narrowed dark blue eyes glared daggers at him.

  “And don’t think she’s kidding, either.” Another woman spoke up from behind the bristling Amazon. “I’ve seen her with knives.”

  A gorgeous blonde goddess with deep green moved easily in front of the two bloodthirsty females. “Why don’t you let our friend go before I have to call M over here to change your mind? He’s my head of security and very fond of our Emma. After that, I’ll let Recee loose on you.” While her voice remained soft, the hardness beneath spoke volumes. These three women wanted to protect Emma from him. While he appreciated and respected their determination, no would get between him and the woman he loved ever again.

  He flashed his most charming smile, the one that usually worked on females all over the world. “Ladies, the last thing I want to do is hurt Emma. I came here to talk, but couldn’t resist her.” He gave a small shrug as if saying who can blame me? But all the while, his arms remained tightly clasped around Emma’s rigid body.

  The one the goddess had called Recee bared her straight white teeth at him. “One more chance, hot shot, before we permanently remove your future donations to the gene pool.”

  His balls shrivelled up under that stark look of menace. “I don’t want any trouble—” Brock started to say before the neatly dressed blonde interrupted.

  “Then you shouldn’t have grabbed Emma like that.”

  Damn it, how had this gotten so clusterfucked so quickly? He’d only meant to pop in, look Emma over and leave. But one glance at her wicked curves and generous breasts and his brain had headed south. “I love Emma. I’d never do anything to hurt her. She’s my fiancée.”

  In a flurry of angry movements, Emma clawed at his chest, squirming and twisting against his already aroused body, even his cowardly balls un-tucked themselves with the feel of her sweet flesh rubbing against him.

  “No.” she screamed, fighting against him. “I’m not yours. I’ll never be yours again.”

  Ignoring the hot stabbing pain in his chest from her words, Brock concentrated on stilling her movements. “Hush, baby, and settle down before you bruise that soft skin.”

  Hazel blue eyes gazed at him with blind anger. “Let me go or so help me, I’ll sic Recee on you.”

  “Damn straight, Em.” The evil smile on the other woman’s face had his balls twitching again. “Say the word and his future progeny with cease to exist.”

  “Woman, what is it with you and my balls? Did you lose yours? Trying to find a big enough pair for a replacement?” Stupid thing to say, but a man could only take so much.

  “Like your set would be big enough to cover my pinkie toe,” she retorted.

  “Honey, everything all right here?”

  The speaker—a tall man with tawny hair and intelligent brown eyes—walked up, quickly followed by a younger version of himself except with shaggy blond hair. Both men carried themselves with an air of confidence and control. Brock could handle a fight between them, but he didn’t want to start off spilling the blood of Emma’s friends.

  The goddess walked over to the tawny-haired man who wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. “This guy,” she pointed one long finger in Brock’s direction, “seems to know our Emma.”

  “Really?” The guy arched a brow. “Too bad for him Emma doesn’t look to return the affection.”

  “We can take care of this, Olivia,” the younger brother piped in, the eager light of battle flaring in his dark eyes.

  “Noah, stop.” Olivia put her hand on the younger man’s arm. “Ethan, get that look off your face right now or I’m calling M.”

  Threatened with the mysterious M, both men throttled back.

  “But he’s got Emma.” Noah crossed his arms and glared at Brock. “And it doesn’t look like Em wants to be there.”

  “Five minutes, Livia, that’s all I need,” The bloodthirsty brunette added then twirled a blade between her fingers.

  In a move he made sure none of them could notice, Brock signalled to his own friends to watch his six, but keep their distance unless needed.

  “Damn, you people are violent,” he muttered, wondering if he could bring himself to hit a woman, even one who repeatedly threatened his ability to father children.

  “Stop it, all of you.” Emma squirmed from his hold and stepped back, keeping everyone in her sight. “There’s going to be no bloodshed over Brock. He’s not worth it.”

&nb
sp; As one, the three women moved to encircle her, using their own bodies to hide Emma from his view.

  Frustrated and angry, Brock ran a hand through his short crop of hair. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to talk with Emma. We won’t even leave the room.”

  “Damn right you won’t.”

  His gaze met the knife-wielding loon’s. “Do you ever get tired of threatening people?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone’s got to have a hobby.”

  “And knitting is too complicated for you?”

  A muffled snort of laughter came from the Noah. “He’s got you there, Recee.”

  “Care to be my next special project, Noah?” she asked in a dangerously sweet tone, then with a flick of her wrist, the knife disappeared.

  Damn, this was one scary ass female.

  In a smart move, Noah backed away, hands defensibly held out. “Nope, I like everything exactly where it is on my body.”

  “Enough,” Emma cried out from the middle of her protective circle.

  Brock watched her push through all that lovely feminine flesh surrounding her.

  “Emma, are you sure?” Olivia asked, concern darkening her eyes. “M can throw him out of here. You never have to see him again.”

  Brock spoke up, not willing to be cut out of the conversation. “Emma, I came here to talk to you. There are things you deserve to know.”

  She glared at him. “You lost all your rights six years ago, Brockston Cage. Anything you couldn’t tell me then I sure as hell don’t want to know now.” She straightened her spine. “Now get out before Olivia is forced to throw you out.”

  After living through hell and crawling in the blood of his friends, Brock had no intention of leaving. He hadn’t survived gun fights, bombs, IEDs and knife attacks only to be dismissed by the one woman who’d kept him alive though it all. “Not going to happen, Em. I’m here to stay. The sooner you get used to it the easier it will be on everyone.”