THE NAUGHTY ONES: The Complete 5-Books Series

by Kristina Weaver

  After that I lost another screw and convinced myself that he just needed some time. Admittedly, I was grasping at straws by then, but who can blame me?

  I’ve been pretending to be a tough, hard-talking, ballsy lass since I was five years old and somehow got lucky enough to meet Callie Landry and be taken under her wing.

  I’ve fought, been suspended from school, almost been arrested while joyriding in the neighbor’s car. After stealing the thing.

  I’ve done a lot of stuff and got into some awful scrapes over the years since I decided that I had to become the right type of girl to fit in with my friends.

  I went from painting and listening to opera while Mummy flitted about in a daze of crazy and Daddy just floated about in a lost fog, to wearing hooker attire and getting pierced in places that still give me nightmares.

  I created my persona and went from soft spoken and shy to the girl who hopped beds. In reality, I never once slept with or even blew one of the many men who I pretended to date.

  Of course, they went about lying through their teeth, but I was golden with that as long as my friends believed I was who I was pretending to be. I was right happy with it all until I looked up at a party we were catering and saw a man I know is my one.

  After that I was a wreck of nervous energy and pure fear. I was afraid of everything from rejection to losing him before I’d even had a chance.

  Imagine my delight when Freddie Cage walked up to me after I gaped at him like a fish and made my every dream come true by flirting the hell out of me.

  I just fell like a ton of bricks for him. I went from infatuation to outright, panty-grabbing, heart-twisting love in mere seconds, and to this day I will never understand why God had to go and make that ass my one.

  He took everything I had to give. He wined and dined me and threw some words around, and before I knew it I was offering myself to him on a silver bloody platter.

  I was dead honest and brutally clear with him about it all. I made no bones about the fact that I got to thirty years of age with my maidenhead still intact because it meant something to me.

  I told him that for me, sex was not just a function but something deep and meaningful. I made it blatantly fucking clear that if we slept together, it would be because I have feelings. For him.

  You know what he did? He blew my world apart.

  He blew me away and ruined me for anyone else.

  I can’t look at a man now without wondering if he’d be any good. Hell, I’m not even the least attracted to other men.

  I went clubbing, got hammered, and took a blue-eyed, sandy blond home with me and tried to get naked with him. He was game, was rearing to go and bloody pissed when I couldn’t go through with it and kicked him out.

  I just wasn’t able to forget that Freddie plague on my existence, so I couldn’t do it.

  So yeah. After grief and tears, after anger and the need to kick him so hard he’d have a vagina, after desperate hope and stupidity, I am now at the last stage of mourning for the death of my useless heart.

  Acceptance.

  “Luci, would you go wrangle Jack and Callie out of the freaking closet and tell those two animals that we need them on the front lawn for the wedding photos?”

  I snap right back to reality to see Mama Levin hustling away, leaving me the job of going to pull those two apart when we all know I’m liable to find them actually screwing by this point.

  Let a man put a ring on his woman and he goes caveman. They’ve been snogging since the priest pronounced the death of their single status.

  “Bleeding hell.”

  Passing all the Naughties, the three dads and two wives, Gruffy (who’s flirting up a storm), all the Levins’ guests and even a grinning Woody, I manage to make it into the house relatively unscathed and find the married apes going at it in a downstairs closet.

  “My eyes!” I screech, slamming the door back when I get shot of something I really should not have witnessed.

  “Oh, Jack.”

  “Oh come on already! Your mom’s looking for you and the freaking photographer’s waiting.”

  They keep moaning like a pair of minks at the job, and I finally just give up the ghost and stalk away, back outside to find the poor sod I’ve conned into being my date at this torture session.

  Not that I don’t like Alan. Indeed, the man is extremely attractive with dark brown hair and eyes the color of a spring leaf. And he’s damned nice, too.

  I met him at one of the charity things we catered and got to know him. He’s more friend material than anything else, and he knows it, no matter how many times I’ve tried to look at him in a different light.

  He’s moneyed and likes children and after seeing the charming way he handled my scatty parents after meeting them today, I was tempted to go to a shrink to help me with my mental issues. Really, who looks at Alan, knows Alan, spends time with Alan, and does not fall for the hot goodness at once?

  “There you are, baby. I was just about to send out a search party for you.” He laughs when I fall into the seat beside him and flop my head onto his shoulder.

  “Sorry. Last-minute checks before the porn couple finally come out. The cake…” I trail off as he laughs and chucks me under the chin.

  “No worries, I get it. You’re a good friend to have done all this in such a short space of time. It must have been a job and a half to get things this perfect with all these people on your back.”

  The truth? It was unbelievably easy, leading me to think that I’ve lost that last bit of me I used to cling to. I didn’t get all deliriously happy thinking about these things where before I would have cut off a limb just to do what I have always wanted to do—plan weddings.

  Gone is the romance now that I’m a dead husk of broken love.

  “Meh. It was fine,” I muse, looking around at the three hundred other guests without much enthusiasm.

  Alan sighs and I feel myself go red with guilt before he pushes me up and takes me by the shoulders.

  “Listen to me, Luci goosey. This listless attitude is not you and I don’t like it. You need to either get over him and move the hell on or just go after what you want. But you need to do something, because if I have to look at you much longer and see how little you care about anything I may just kick that fucker’s ass.”

  His words make my lips twitch and I giggle to lighten the mood while he looks over my shoulder with a growl.

  “Cage is coming this way, Luci. And he’s looking pissed off about something. You have two choices. I can get up from here and go get a drink so you can be alone, or I can do what I’ve been wanting to do since I clapped eyes on him tonight and kiss the hell out of you to make him see what he pushed away. Your choice.”

  Hmmm.

  “Are you sure?”

  Alan grins at me in such a way that makes me wish I could have loved him instead and leans in with a glint in his eyes.

  “Pucker up, hot stuff.”

  Okay, I was wrong. I can kiss other men.

  The moment his lips hit mine, I feel it all. His mouth is soft, full, and just the right amount of wet before he tilts my head to the side and really goes to work.

  Alan is a master kisser and he does himself proud when he pens my mouth and licks inside in a lewd and completely hot way that I know other people can see.

  The kiss is all tongue, moans, and lewd display, and I love each and every moment of the mouth-screw he lays on me. By the time he pulls back and I blink my eyes open, I feel giddy with victory.

  “You call that loving me, Luci?”

  I look up with wide eyes to see Freddie standing beside me, glaring his head off as Alan smiles and hooks an arm around me.

  “Freddie—”

  “You tell him yet that we fucked, Luci? That you were a virgin when I made you scream in pleasure?”

  What? Why, the utter gall!

  “You unbelievable arse. How dare you? I—”

  “What? Moved on at the speed of light? I fucking knew you wer
e a crock the moment you told me that bullshit, Luci. I should have known it was stupid to try and hope that you were better than the vapid women I’ve been with. I…”

  His eyes flare and go dark, but he cuts himself off and turns on his heel, stalking away without a backward glance.

  I’m left stunned, speechless, and confused as I turn my eyes back to Alan and just stare.

  “What the hell?”

  “You still ready to walk away from him, kid? That was not the behavior of a man who is not interested, sweetheart.”

  No. I don’t think it was. The only question in my mind as I turn to watch his retreating back is…will Diva Brides still have my wedding dress on hold?

  ~~~

  LUCI

  Chapter One

  Unrequited Love

  Luci

  You know the worst part of unrequited love? The word unrequited. I’ve always hated that word so much. It’s a big, fancy, pretentious word that pretty much means “you’re shit outta luck, lady.” And every time it pops into my head I have the urge to bare my teeth and shake my fist at the world.

  It’s been a good five months since Callie and Jack’s wedding, which means it’s been a while since I made that fateful declaration to Alan and decided to pursue the man of my dreams.

  You want to know what I have accomplished in all this time?

  Nothing. Not a bloody damn thing, unless you count making a complete arse of myself and crying into my pillow at night.

  I watched him at the wedding, practically throwing myself at him. I was so drunk after he confronted me that poor Alan had to rescue me when I started stumbling Freddie’s way, slurring my intentions.

  The night ended with me crying into the bridal bouquet while Alan carried me to his waiting limo, where I proceeded to toss my cookies and bawl in an all-round pathetic manner.

  After I woke with a hangover that threatened to level me, I showed up at his offices, picnic basket in hand, with the grand plan of wooing him with my culinary skills.

  I ended up on the sidewalk after his secretary let him know I was there and security showed up minutes later to escort me out.

  Humiliating? Yes. And you’d think I’d have taken a freaking hint there and just moved on, right?

  Nope. Not this thick-skulled idiot.

  Instead I went home to Indie, shared my picnic food, and regrouped while paging through The Wedding Album.

  That’s when I came up with the doozy of all doozies, something I blame on Indie and the copious amounts of wine we consumed, along with fried chicken and blue cheese potato salad.

  I somehow got it into my fool head that if I could just remind him, rekindle that spark of passion that raged out of control and had us ripping at each other’s clothes, that he’d somehow want me again.

  So I did what any sultry vixen would do.

  “You have a slamming hot body and great boobs, Luce. I say you use those babies to open with.”

  I’m basically crying around a chicken drumstick and guzzling wine when Indie’s drunken slur reaches my ears, drowning out the inner wails that have been deafening me since the security chief of Freddie’s building escorted me out with a look of pity and told me to have some pride.

  “So? He’s seen my boobs at least ten times and he obviously does not think they’re all that great, Indie,” I mutter around a mouthful of buttered green beans.

  I remember each and every time he looked at my boobs, touched my boobs, and, well…suffice it to say that I have it all catalogued and on replay in my mind in minute detail.

  “Luci, let’s be real here. You love the guy and he’s…he’s just…clueless. You have two choices here, sweet pea. You can let this go and try to move on, find another lid to fit the pot that is your crazy.”

  “Or?” I ask, knowing that in all the world there will never be another lid.

  Daddy once confided in me that when he first saw Mummy, his heart stopped and started beating again, completely out of tempo for him, but totally in sync with hers.

  I’ve been brought up on those stories since I was old enough to converse, and I never once questioned that love would find me. After all, if my father, a hardnosed English peer who ran a multibillion pound corporation and was ruthless enough to fire a person without pause could take one look at Mummy and want love so much he changed in an instant…

  If he could have love and happiness all these years with my scatty mum, I could have it, too. Couldn’t I?

  I jump from the sofa with a yell of glee and totter to my bedroom with a game plan in mind.

  “Hey! Where ya going?”

  “To do what I need to, of course,” I say, Indie following as I strip off today’s sundress and flats in favor of the naughty lingerie I’ve been saving for a special occasion.

  That brings a smile to Indie’s face and I grin back as I change into a black set of scrappy lace bra and panties, garter belt, and silky black stockings with heels.

  The mirror likes me, a lot, and I ruffle and fluff out my fall of ash-blond hair as Indie whistles and grins like a loon.

  “I take it you’re going for it then, little Miss Loveshine?”

  “Hell yeah I am so going for it. The only things to regret in life are the things you never did.” I laugh, my clouded mind weaving visions of happiness, laughter, family, babies…

  Whatever I want, really, as giddy hope and joy work through me.

  I’ve e-mailed Freddie a million times. Sent him letters explaining Alan’s relationship to me, describing him as merely a close friend. Basically I’ve hounded him with the knowledge that besides that one foolish kiss we shared, we’re not even close to being an item because I still love him.

  Why he won’t listen or believe me?

  I grab a coat and shrug it on, praying not to melt before I reach his place, and allow Indie to walk me to the door with a few words of advice and a pep talk that would get me through a war.

  “Remember, Luce. Anything worthwhile is worth fighting for. You go out there and you get your man and do all that love shit.”

  If I wasn’t so stoned, drunk, and bloody stupid I may have questioned the advice since it’s a well-known fact that India McGee is a pessimist who has never believed in love.

  I don’t think about a single logical thing at this moment. I jump up and down like a bloody cheerleader and squeal as I bunny-hop my way to the elevator and start planning my future.

  The cab ride over is short, even though we live on opposite sides of San Fran. By the time I reach his door it’s well past eight at night and darkening outside.

  Do I stop to consider that using a key I snuck off his chain and had copied is not a good idea? Nope.

  Do I stop to consider that I just had my butt thrown out of his building the minute he heard I was there to see him? Nope.

  I let myself in, check around the cold, almost empty space, and trot to his bedroom. I miss him. I’m excited about seeing him without others here to curb the conversation, and without him being able to ignore me and walk away.

  All I think as I remove my coat and hang it behind the bathroom door before toddling over to the bed in my heels is that once he gets a load of me, he’ll be on me so fast.

  I’m busy arranging myself in a sexy pose, legs spread and draped, back arched to show off my boobs in the lacy demi bra, when I hear the door open and shut.

  I’m loose and attempting sultry sexiness when I see the door open and smile as flirtatiously as humanly possible.

  I keep smiling as he waltzes in. I even smile into the darkness when he stubs his toe and curses softly.

  But I stop smiling when the light comes on just as I hear a feminine giggle. They both spot me in my lewdly embarrassing pose. I take in their state of undress and Freddie’s lipstick-smudged lips.

  I’m bloody frozen and mortified for all of ten long, agonizing seconds when I hear the woman let out a squeak, a shocked giggle, and give me a sympathetic look.

  After that, well, things cannot get any less awkw
ard for me.

  “Luci? Jesus Christ! What the hell…?” he sputters.

  Jumping to my feet in a flash, because yes, I am beyond shocked, I just manage not to cry when I finally manage to get my frozen limbs to move.

  I’m hurting as they both gape at me.

  I can’t answer him or say anything as the reality of it all crashes through me. Here I am, spread out on his bed, in his apartment that I broke into, making a complete and utter twat of myself.

  How tragically pathetic am I!

  That anger is the only thing that spurs me on and stops the tears from falling as I fly out of the room.

  I make it all the way out of his apartment, all the way down the hall and into the elevator by the time two things happen. One, I look up to see him running after me like a madman, no doubt ready and eager to blast me to hell and back. And two…I realize I didn’t grab my coat.

  Callie’s walk of shame flits through my head just as I raise a hand and flip Freddie the bird as the doors are closing.

  When the doors open, the lobby of the building is not empty. I get to be the asshole who runs out of the place when I hear booming footfalls coming from the stairwell.

  My exit as I start running to escape even more humiliation is so farcical, I feel myself blushing as I shove a man away from an open cab door and throw myself in.

  “Drive. Oh God, just please drive,” I beg, looking out the window to see the man who will forever be in my nightmares barreling towards us.

  The cabbie obeys and takes me home.

  “Luci? You okay, sweet pea?”

  I snap out of my thoughts just as Indie comes sailing into my line of vision. I look up to see her eyeing me with the same sympathy I’ve been getting for the last month.

  “I’m fine, Indie,” I mutter, not needing another one of her fucked-up pep talks again.

  I’ve ignored them all as I’ve tried to move on. First it was all of my friends trying to cheer me up and make me go all man-hater to get through my humiliation. Then it was Mum and Dad trying to get me to join them at some hippie retreat.

  After crushing my phone when Freddie attempted to call, I got a visit from Jack and Woody. It ended with me slamming the door in their faces, locking myself in my room, and staring at the ceiling for thirteen hours while Percy stood by my door and begged me to come out.