The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No Dogs Allowed
Copyright © 2012 by Nicole Hicks
ISBN: 978-1-61333-198-9
Cover art by Mina Carter
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Look for us online at:
www.decadentpublishing.com
No Dogs Allowed
A 1Night Stand Story
By
Nicole Hicks
~DEDICATION~
To Kenya, my character’s namesake. You are a friend who makes me smile, I hope you enjoy the adventure. To Margie Hall, Gracen Miller, Deena Remiel, and JoAnne Kenrick: Great friends, supporters, and authors. And the staff at Decadent, especially Kate. Your work helps make perfect what authors dream up. Thank you for the belief and support.
Prologue
A short, but handsome, Mexican man strode toward me with a rose in hand. I sniffed the air…and started sneezing. Another damned dog. What is it with Vegas and dogs?
“Rose?” He cocked his head at me and stared with large, liquid brown eyes.
I looked at the peach-colored flower in his hand and shook my head. “Sorry, but I’m not interested.”
An eyebrow rose in what I can only assume was amusement before he stepped closer and my sneezing fit began to get serious. “What is wrong, gatita? Cat got your tongue?”
“No, but if you don’t back off I might have yours, you little mongrel.”
My smartass comeback was ruined with a flurry of ah-choos. And not those little, cute ones you associate with cats. Oh no, I get ones that make my head rock back, my chest feel like it’s about to explode, and red eyes. Real sexy. Just what I wanted while in Vegas. And I could tell how impressed he was by his high-pitched laughter. Damn cur.
Catching my breath, I scowled at the li’l yapper. I suppose glaring with red-rimmed eyes isn’t very intimidating since he had to bend over to breathe.
“Oh my God, what are you? A hyena? A Chihuahua?”
His open-mouthed grin faded, and he shot me an affronted glare. “I am not a hyena.”
“Figures. I had to run into an ankle-biter with a Napoleon complex.”
He had a gleam in his eye that I didn’t want to try to figure out. “You know for a pussycat, you have a pretty big set of cojones.”
“Wrong gender, perrito. But with what I imagine you have, it could be easily understood why you made the mistake.”
He growled at me. An honest-to-God, deep-chested growl.
Taking a breath, I gathered my wits and held up my hands. “I’m sorry; it was a knee-jerk reaction.”
At his head-cocked expression of disbelief, I laughed. “Listen, I don’t want to fight. No ‘whose territory is it,’ ‘I’ll show you my teeth if you show me yours,’ or ‘let’s see whose cock is bigger’ contests. I’m here for a job interview and a vacation. I planned to get away from things for a while and hoped to let my fur down. And instead, I find the place overrun with canines. Which, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m allergic to.”
A smile brightened his face when a woman called from across the foyer.
“Jorge? Jorge, is that you? It’s Rose….”
I glanced from the mangled flower in his hand to the woman walking toward us. He dug in his back pocket and handed me a sweat-stained card with bent corners.
“Here, try this. It’s a dating service called 1Night Stand. A lot of us have used it, with all kinds of success.” He leered at the woman making her way across the floor as if she were a never-ending supply of Milk-Bones. “Maybe they can help you find what you want. They sure helped me.”
He walked off without a backward glance. I turned the simple, once elegant business card over in my hands. The only writing on it the website address for the dating site. Could the mutt be trusted? I shrugged. Can’t make my trip any worse.
Chapter One
“Shit, shit, shit.” I stomped around my suite in a tizzy. First the sensible pants set I wanted to wear split a seam and I had to change to a cleavage-showing, handkerchief-hemmed, red and black dress. Then my only pair of hose got a run, and the heel broke off my modest, two-inch heels. Everything is going wrong. Are the gods warning me of impending doom where tonight is concerned? Or is it my own fault? Are my nerves getting to me that much?
I took a deep, cleansing breath, trying to get said nerves under control, and failing miserably. And I’m supposed to meet…shit, what’s his name? Raphael, that’s it! I’m supposed to meet Raphael down in the bar in fifteen minutes…. God, I hate dressing up beyond slacks. Am I ready for this?
“Come on, girl, you can do this.” I straightened my shoulders with a deep breath for courage. “It’s just one night.”
Grabbing my keycard, black cashmere wrap, and purse, I rushed out the door. Surely the gift store has pantyhose, and there was a boutique down there too, right? As the elevator dropped toward the lobby, my purse vibrated. I cursed, fumbling with the room key still in my hand and wrestling with my falling wrap, while trying to open the small clutch to get to my phone. A text from Madame Eve.
Raphael is going to be early, so you better hurry if you want to beat him to the bar. Always better to be early than late, dear. Order a Kitten’s Delight on me. Good luck, and remember to have fun. Let your Brazilian temperament shine through.
A Kitten’s Delight? I shook my head. Madame Eve seemed to know what worked and what her clients needed…before they did. Just a tad creepy. Shaking my head, I packed my phone and keycard in the clutch, pulled the wrap around my bare shoulders, and impatiently waited for the elevator doors to open. Rushing out, eyeing the boutique across the lobby and praying that it was still open, I ran into a man. An actual man, not of the sneeze-inducing, canine variety.
“I’m so sorry,” a deep voice apologized. I recovered from my embarrassing sprawl across the carpet, brushing imaginary lint off my dress.
“No, no it was my fault. Not watching where I was going. I’m just running a bit….”
Glancing up, I noticed the lips first. Gloriously full, kiss me lips, that I could easily imagine running down my neck and following the plunging neckline of my dress. They brought to mind pleasure so intense it could even make me howl in delight. And were quirking into a grin. Shit. I quickly looked up beyond them to a pair of smiling hazel eyes engaged in their own perusal of me, from bare feet to the loosely curled hair that fell mid-way down my back.
“Anyway,” I continued, “I do apologize.” And wish you were the one I was meeting tonight. That’s not my luck though.
“No problem. I know better than to get in the way of a woman on a mission. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”
Oh God I hope so!
“Maybe.” I settle
d for a nod in his direction and a longing glance at his ass as he walked away, before hauling my butt to the boutique.
***
Standing outside the bar, I ran a hand through my hair and glanced down at the new four-inch, stiletto heels and daring thigh-highs. Sexier than I’m used to, but at least they’re the old, classy style with the seam down the back. And the salesgirl assured me the line was straight. With a sigh I opened the door and entered the semi-dark room, looking around. There were only three people present. The bartender, a heavyset man sitting in a corner, and a man occupying a stool staring into a glass with a woebegone expression. If he had a date, she’d stood him up, poor guy. Either way, the elderly fellow wasn’t mine.
Maybe Madame was wrong and he’s running late. I stepped up to the bar.
“What can I getcha?” The bartender was actually kind of cute. Short hair, slightly square face, muscular build, and…ah-choo! Figured. Another damn dog. His grin made me think the grapevine had been busy and news of the allergic kitty cat had made the rounds. I backed up.
“Can I get a Kitten’s Delight please?” I had to stand a foot away from the counter to avoid being affected by his dander, and subjected to even more embarrassment. His grin told me he noticed. Damn dogs!
“One Kitten’s Delight coming up.”
He chilled a martini glass, took out a shaker and tossed in a handful of ice cubes. He filled it with a shot of chocolate liquor, a shot of Baileys, and topped it off with a generous splash of cream. Giving it a swift shake before straining it into the icy glass, he put a mint leaf in the middle and handed the delightful concoction to me.
“On the house, hon.”
Raising an eyebrow, I nodded my thanks and took a small sip. I closed my eyes as my tongue lapped up the first sinful taste. Oh my God. Creamy decadence. Sensual pleasure served in a chilled glass. Feline heaven. Pure nirvana.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone enjoy a drink quite so much before.”
The voice sounded familiar, and my eyes snapped open. In front of me sat my earlier run in. Running my tongue over my lips, followed by a fingertip, I tried to turn it from a possibly embarrassing situation to a more sensual one. Besides if my date isn’t here, it won’t hurt to practice flirting, right?
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a drink quite this good before,” I replied with a grin. “It’s a Kitten’s Delight, emphasis on delight.”
“Oh really? From the expression on your face you found sex in a glass.” His smile really was something to write home about. My knees weakened when a dimple peeked from his cheek.
“A…friend suggested it to me. I’d never heard of it before. But I can guarantee that it’s a new favorite.” I grinned and held a hand out. “I don’t believe we got a chance to introduce ourselves earlier. Hi, I’m Kenya.”
“Hi Kenya, I’m Raphael. And I can definitely say it’s my pleasure.”
Raphael. Oh hell!My realization was timed perfectly to the bartender’s high-pitched laughter. Well, I’ve found a hyena…and my date. Fuck me….
His smile dipped from lecherous toward sympathetic. Crap. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled creamy, chocolaty goodness with a hint of mint, the sinful scent throwing me even more off balance. Keep it together, girl. I slid onto the stool beside him.
“Do you think we can have a do over? Forget me mowing you down in the lobby and start fresh?”
“I kind of liked that run in. Skirt a little hiked up, tanned legs showing out from under it. But of course,” he winked, “I have to say I’m rather fond of what’s on those legs now.”
I simpered. Shit, I forgot that cream increases alcohol’s effect on felines. Screw it, tonight is for fun.
The skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. His eyes…. His eyes had the sheen of a shifter. But he wasn’t a dog, obviously. I hadn’t been sneezing my fool head off around him, yet.
“Would you—would you like to dance?” I was hesitant, but a slow song had come on and it would give me a chance to see if his animal magnetism would try to repel me.
“Sure, I’d love to.” He stood and held a hand out to me as the opening strains to “Forbidden Love” drifted toward us.
Stepping onto the dance floor, he spun me into his arms, tugged me close, pulled the hand he held around his neck and both of his arms around my waist. Laying my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes, I reveled in the rightness of having him wrapped around me. We swayed to the song, and I lost myself in the moment, in the soft fabric beneath my cheek. His body lightly brushed against mine with each swaying step. He sang softly in a rumbling base that held the world at bay. And no sneezing!
Turning my face toward his neck, lips lightly brushing his skin, I sighed. “This is heaven.”
With one of his hands trailing up my spine and under my hair, he bent his head and whispered against my temple, “Yes it is.”
Chapter Two
Nirvana can come without a glass, too.
One slow dance after another, he held me in his arms. Eyes closed, I lost myself in the moment, the rhythm, and the man. Everything else disappeared. The world was perfect. Until my head banged against Raph’s chest in a sudden sneezing fit.
“Check it out.” The deep voice came from behind me. “The hairless wonder is trying to get a piece of tail.”
Raucous catcalls sounded and Raphael cringed.
Fucking enough already. I turned, sick of the allergic reaction, the town of dogs, and ready to defend what was mine. Mine? I shook the thought off. “Now, now…. That sounds like jealousy to me. Is it the fact that he’s able to get some tail and you can’t?”
My lips drew back as my eyeteeth lengthened into small canines. These beady-eyed idiots were ruining my perfect moment. I’d show the interfering mutts just how fed up I was.
“You better watch your step there, missy. It’s not like you have any friends here to help you.”
The threatening tone made the small hairs on the back of my neck rise in irritation. “Who says I need friends to deal with a pansy assed, Cujo wanna-be like you? Why don’t you go scratch your fleas and leave us alone like a good little cur?”
Raphael’s snort gave me enough courage to reach behind me, grab his hand, and start for the exit. I ignored the interlopers’ following close behind us while we walked across the floor, through the lobby, and over to the elevator doors. By the time they opened, I was beginning to shake, the adrenalin rush leaving me.
“Hold on to it. We’re almost free.” Raphael’s whisper soothed my nerves and made it possible for me to step into the car without throwing up. When I turned around to push the floor button, I caught a glimpse of the man who had verbally accosted us. Tall, grim, and menacing in the brightly lit lobby. If it hadn’t been so dark on the dance floor, would my anger have still taken control? The doors slid closed hiding us from view. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and leaned against the strong chest behind me.
“Shit, Raphael. What did I just do? Who was that?”
He turned me toward him, and with a gentle finger lifted my face. I opened my eyes, turning to him for answers.
“You don’t know?” His doubt showed through in his tone. “Just how long have you been in Vegas?”
“Not long enough to learn the players in this field. And when it happened I didn’t care. But the way he stared at me when we got in here makes me think I may have just screwed up…big time. So who is he? A mob boss? A hit man? An exterminator?”
At the realization that the man I’d mouthed off to may be one of the few beings allowed to “take care of” bad shifters, I began to shake all over again. When Raphael chortled, I smacked him on the arm.
“Don’t laugh. This is serious!” My hiss was nowhere near quiet.
He held his hands up in surrender, still chuckling.
“Sorry, but it really isn’t. That was just a low-level bully in the local pack. A Boston Bulldog to be precise.” He leaned against the wall, hands against his heaving stomach. “They’ve
been trying to make me join, now that the old Alpha’s dead.”
“Wait…what? Join the pack? Umm, why would they want you to do that? Did they change pack regulations?”
Why would they want a non-canine member?
“Why shouldn’t they want me? Are you prejudiced, too?” His anger chilled his voice.
“What? No! Why would I be prejudiced? Would I have lost control of myself or defended you if I were? I like that you’re not canine. In fact—”
“But, Kenya, I am.”
Chapter Three
“No…no, that’s not possible. I’d know if you were a dog.” Mr. Perfect was saying he was a dog? Shaking my head, I headed toward my room. “We’ll discuss this in a minute. In private.”
Opening the door I impatiently motioned him in before walking through and closing it behind us.
“Now, explain to me how what you said is true because that’s just not possible. I would have been sneezing once you got in sniffing distance.”
As I spoke, he strolled across the room and chose the sole recliner in the suite, motioning me to the love seat.
“I’m a Xolo,” he replied, acting as if his quiet explanation answered everything.
“Xolo? What is that? Some kind of mixed breed?”
My tone embarrassed me, but having to admit my ignorance pissed me off. There’s nothing I hate more than acknowledging there are things I don’t know. It isn’t good for a manager’s image, and is an aspect of my job that carries over into my personal life. I tried to control my confusion and anger, sucked in a deep breath and sat. A couple of minutes of ‘in through the nose, out through the mouth’ exercises helped me regain control; his sad expression made me feel like I’d kicked a puppy. Damn someone who can do puppy dog eyes, and make it work for them.
1NS 086 - Nicole Hicks - No Dogs Allowed - Decadent 2012-01 Page 1
