Pure Pleasure Ava McKnight Part of the Playing With the Boys series.
Writer Giselle is on assignment to cover an off-road race, a trendy sport she knows absolutely nothing about. When she meets hunky mechanic Ky, the chemistry between them sizzles from the moment they lay eyes on each other. Their lust is off the charts, but there’s also an innate emotional connection between them that stems from having each lost a parent.
As Giselle is drowning in sexual bliss, she discovers Ky isn’t just a mechanic for the race team—he owns the team. He’s also a championship driver, carrying on his father’s legacy. Suddenly Giselle’s ashamed of having shared the story of her financial struggles with Ky. But he’s not about to let her forget how hot they are for each other. And maybe he’ll convince her there’s more between them than pure pleasure.
PURE PLEASURE Ava McKnight
Ava McKnight
Chapter One “Head’s up, babe. Comin’ through.” The voice behind me was a sensuous one that caused an unexpected flutter in my stomach. When I glanced over my shoulder, however, that particular organ leapt into my throat. “Holy shit!” I ducked just as two dust-and-grease-covered men flanked me, holding a large piece of metal between them. Popping my head up after they passed, I caught an apologetic grin from the hunky mechanic on the left. “Sorry about that.” He’d been the one to warn me I was standing in harm’s way. “Quarter panel for the pre-runner.” Huh for the wha’? “Oh, Giselle,” I muttered under my breath as the men rushed off. “What have you gotten yourself into?” I was completely out of my element here, among this flurry of human dirt devils and revving engines. Why on earth had I agreed to write a magazine feature on off-road racing? Sure, it was a hot, trendy sport. TV’s “McDreamy”, Patrick Dempsey, running the Baja 1000 had helped to propel off-road racing into the limelight, along with the likes of NASCAR racer Robby Gordon and notorious bad boy Jesse James. When he’d been married to Sandra Bullock, she’d reportedly come to the races, tooling around on an ATV as though she wasn’t Hollywood royalty, while her husband raced. That had given me a ray of hope I could do this. But standing in the busy pits as crews worked on their dune buggies, Bajas, Jeeps, motorcycles and trucks, I feared I might have made a mistake with this adventurous undertaking.
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My apprehension stemmed primarily from the fact that the magazine I worked for, Scottsdale Live, was in financial dire straits. For nearly two decades, it had been the magazine for Scottsdale socialites. Over the past several years, I and three other female writers had covered all the exclusive and glamorous events in town, featured the hottest fashion, shoe, jewelry and home designs, and wrote about culinary and vineyard triumphs only the rich and fabulous could afford to sample. Similar to everyone else, though, the economy had hit us hard. And while my fellow reporter Claire Williams had generously stepped in to help the situation with her family money, we were still struggling in this new economic paradigm where the affluent were more conscientious than ever about how they spent their money. As an experiment, we were currently reaching out to a broader demographic. Claire had written an article on a popular athletic club and its owner, Jack Reed, and that had reeled in a slew of new readers. We’d captured the attention of female athletes and fitness buffs, which had turned out to be a category beneficial to the magazine’s bottom line. Claire’s feature had landed us new advertisers that we’d been in desperate need of. Taylor Whitney and Cherish Westerly had their own stories in the works. At the moment, it was my turn to help out, though Lord only knew why I’d agreed to tackle off-road racing. I knew nothing about the sport and I’d had zero time to do in-depth research on it because the assignment had landed on my desk the day before this particular race was taking place. I’d miraculously scored a hotel room after a large team had bowed out at the last minute and canceled several reservations. Taking that as a sign, I’d jumped in with both feet. I didn’t want to let my colleagues, my publisher or my readers down. So I tromped off in the direction of the mechanics and the “quarter what’s-a-ma-who’s-it”, ignoring the fact that my favorite chocolate-colored suede Manolo Blahnik ankle boots were now covered in dust. The hem of my vintage Gloria Vanderbilt jeans didn’t fare so well either, but what was I to do? A promise was a promise. And I was damn glad to still have a job, so I’d suffer fashion repercussions to get my story.
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I sidled up to the somewhat disheveled yet amazingly hot man who’d kept me from getting my head lopped off earlier. He and his cohort had propped the panel against the dented side of a truck and were discussing technical engine and body repairs that went way over my head. For several long and tantalizing seconds, I admired the view. The hunk had sandybrown hair on the longish side. The windblown strands added to his devil-may-care demeanor. He wore a white sleeveless tee with spots of grease on it. The material hugged his well-defined chest and abdominal muscles. His faded Levi’s hugged everything else. I had no idea the color of his eyes, because they were concealed by sunglasses, but he had a strong jawline and chiseled cheeks to go with his strong and chiseled body. I experienced an ooohhh-la-la moment as my brain stalled out and my hormones took over. He was all bulging biceps and rigid six-pack abs and… Holy Moses. Oh so sexy. My clit tingled with sexual awareness. Not something I’d experienced of late, and certainly never to this degree, so it was incredibly distracting. And downright arousing. I cleared my throat to get his attention—and maybe to clear away the tingling sensations skating over my skin. When he glanced at me, I asked, “So what’s this pre-runner thing all about?” His grin was nothing short of heart stopping. One corner of his very tempting mouth lifted in a lazy, half-assed way that prickled more of my body parts. He slid the sunglasses down his nose and eyed me with baby blues brighter than the cloudless sky we stood under. “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing,” he said in a slow, easy tone. His deep voice held a hint of a Southern drawl that did a crazy-wicked number on my insides. He removed his shades, and he tucked one of the arms of the frame into his front pocket. Without realizing it, I took a step backward as he took one forward, toward me.
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Noting the flash of intrigue in his sky-blue eyes, I regained my step, which left very little space between us. Despite the engaging smile, he was a mammoth of a man and that was a little intimidating. Exciting too, I had to admit. Thrusting my hand out, I said, “I’m Giselle Kemper. I’m doing a feature for Scottsdale Live magazine, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about off-road racing.” “Ah.” He pulled a rag from the back pocket of his jeans and wiped off some grime before very gingerly taking my hand in his. “Nice to meet you, Giselle.” His palm was lightly callused and large, engulfing mine. Reasons he likely was so careful with my own hand in his. His skin was warm and his touch was electric in a way that tickled and teased my flesh. A now sizzling sensation along my clit made me deliciously uncomfortable and a bit breathless. Inclining his head toward the truck, he added, “The pre-runner is what we use to run the course before the race. Familiarize the team with the race track, gauge the road conditions and map out where the most dangerous bumps and turns are.” His explanation reminded me of what the hell I was doing there in the first place. Pulling my hand from his, though I was reluctant to do so because it would break the thrilling current running through me, I asked, “Have you been working on trucks long?” “Since I was old enough to pick up a wrench, it seems. How’d you get wrangled into writing an article on something you know nothing about?” “It’s sort of an experiment for the magazine.” “Well, then,” he said with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, “I’d be happy to answer any questions you have. Give you a crash course, so to speak.” “Cute pun,” I quipped. “I’ll take you up on that offer. I’d like to learn as much as I can for this feature.”
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He grinned at me again and it really shouldn’t have made my thighs go up in flames, but it did. I couldn’t pinpoint just one thing about him that created such sudden and intense carnal cravings that my nipples actually tightened and a throbbing pressure built in my pussy. It was everything about him, really, that did me in. He had a magnetic presence with his hunky build, sinful grin and bedroom voice. I suspected I could lie in bed for hours listening to him read the Wall Street Journal and be turned-on. “Hey, man,” his friend politely interrupted us. “We’re due at contingency.” With a wink, my new mentor said, “That’s where the sponsors are set up. We’ve got to get the Trophy Truck over there.” “Trophy Truck?” “Yeah, that’s what the team races. I’ll explain it later. Why don’t you meet me in the bar at the casino around eight? I’ve got a meeting prior to that.” “All right,” I agreed, excitement rippling down my spine. “Anywhere in particular I should look for you?” His grin widened and it was stunning. My knees nearly knocked together. “Something tells me you’ll be easy to spot.” I didn’t have to glance down at my clothes to know I stood out when everyone else sported sensible shoes and shirts or jackets with racing logos on them. “Eight o’clock, then,” I said, trying not to beam as brightly as I feared I did. He and his companion climbed into the pre-runner and the engine roared to life. They drove off with a wave, just as I smacked my hand against my thigh and called out, “I don’t even know your name!” He couldn’t hear me, of course. Some reporter I was. I’d been so distracted by the hard muscles and sexy smile I’d completely lost perspective.
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I had several hours to kill before my crash-course date and the pits were the best place to spend them, I learned. I watched race teams prep their vehicles and listened to the things they had to say about the track and how they planned to run the race. I watched them coordinate what I overheard as being chase vehicles that followed the racers with gas, tires, mechanical equipment and tools. I discovered some teams were so advanced, they had helicopters that kept their respective drivers in sight, reporting their progress back to the pits. Later in the afternoon, I had to mentally amend the masculine emphasis I’d noted previously. Seemed there were a few female drivers in the mix who’d been more than willing to let me do impromptu interviews. The energy surrounding the casino hosting the race had me buzzing with enthusiasm over my newfound interest in this rugged sport. The parking lot had been filled with RVs, trucks and race car trailers when I’d arrived in the morning, and I’d had to valet park because there’d been no available spaces. The land around this remote riverside casino in northwestern Arizona, by the California border, was occupied by more RVs and racing trailers, along with the contingency area I explored and the pits. The course itself was over four-hundred miles. It lapped the pits four times. I’d been told this by a food vendor selling grilled spicy Italian sausages with sweet roasted peppers and onions that had smelled too heavenly to pass up. By the time I made it to my room to shower and change, I felt confident I could have an intelligent conversation with the hunky mechanic without coming across as a complete moron when it came to racing. I hoped to impress him—at least a little, if that was possible. After dressing in a pair of slim black pants and a matching sleeveless top with a sweetheart neckline, I rummaged through my suitcase and discovered I’d brought all the wrong clothes. I’d heard the word casino and had thought of a hip, stylish resort in Vegas. Not a down-home river hotel where jeans and sneakers were the order of the day. The only sweater I’d packed was of the Aspen lodge-bunny variety. The tight-
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fitting white garment zipped up the front and was embellished with white and silver faux fur halfway down the front and back, with wide bands of fur at the cuffs. It did all the right things for my curvy figure, so I ignored the fact that I’d resemble a flashy Kardashian at a simple hoedown. With my black tank top on, I only zipped the sweater to just below my breasts, tucked into my favorite black lace and satin bra. I didn’t require the aid of push-up pads, not that I was anticipating Mr. Mechanic discovering this for himself, but then again… I hadn’t been this attracted to a man in longer than I could remember. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d ever responded so quickly and strongly to one before. He totally wasn’t my type, but that didn’t curb my innate sexual reaction to him. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t the type of man I typically went for that made him a forbidden fruit I wanted to take a bite out of. Assessing myself in the mirror, I realized I needed to downplay my hair and makeup to offset the sweater and to also dispel the potential impression that I didn’t want to be mussed up by the hunk. I pulled the long, plump curls of my chestnutcolored hair over one shoulder and secured the ponytail with a matching holder. I ditched the hoop earrings I’d put on earlier and replaced them with simple silver studs. Wiping the red lipstick from my mouth, I dabbed a neutral-colored gloss on them. I toned down the blush, but the smoky effect around my green eyes was one I preferred, so I didn’t make a change there. This was my Jennifer Love Hewitt look and I hoped I’d pull it off well enough to entice Mr. Mechanic. She had a smoldering yet inviting appearance that made her seem approachable. With any luck, that’d be precisely the signal I’d send out tonight. Thinking of my date, I fought back a giddy laugh, but I couldn’t stop smiling. I liked how he revved my engine. After slipping into four-inch black leather ankle boots, I tucked a few essentials into a small purse. I left my room and took the elevator to the casino level. 10
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The resort faced the river, and an enormous picture window along the wall of the back atrium showcased the water and made the casino nice and bright during the day. At night, the lights from the marina and the boats in the slips twinkled as brilliantly as the stars in the clear sky. A near-full moon hung over the mountain range in the distance and, all in all, I found the scenery peaceful and serene. My insides, however, were in anything but a tranquil state. No, I didn’t care that every head turned as I passed through the casino and walked into the lounge—it was the prospect of seeing the mechanic that made my stomach take a wild tumble. My self-consciousness over being so ostentatiously dressed never surfaced, because a low whistle of appreciation and a flicker of lust in the eyes of my object of desire chased it away when he turned from a group of people and his gaze landed on me. He was rugged and drop-dead gorgeous in a black T-shirt and Levi’s, both of which fit him sinfully well. His sandy hair was less windblown than earlier in the day, but still a tad on the misbehaving side, which worked well with his causal demeanor. His skyblue eyes, however, were just as bright as they’d been when I’d met him this morning. Once again taking my hand in a gentle way, he smiled down at me and said, “You didn’t tell me you were planning on taking my breath away.” His words were as engaging as his smile. I could have jumped the man’s bones right then and there. Luckily, I’d been raised better than that. Mustering my voice, I said, “You know, you haven’t even told me your name yet.” My tone was sultry and provocative, surprising me. It seemed to please him, because he led me out of the bustling lounge while saying, “There’s a patio restaurant at the marina. More privacy and less noise. You game?” “If you’ll tell me your name,” I said with a teasing lilt that was also unfamiliar to me. Where this flirtatious woman had come from was beyond me. I was usually very controlled and focused around men. But this one had my head spinning in a delightful way. 11
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He was ridiculously good-looking and I found it impossible to take my eyes off him. With my peripheral vision and his guidance, I didn’t have to glance away from his strong profile as we walked. Once we reached the elevator and stepped inside, he turned to me and my heart fluttered. Oh yeah. He was devastatingly handsome and capable of melting a glacial epoch with his hypnotic eyes and devilish grin. “I’m Ky. Sorry I didn’t mention that earlier.” “Ky,” I repeated, liking that it wasn’t a common name. Because he certainly wasn’t a common man. “Short for Kyle?” He shook his head. “Nope. Just Ky.” “Huh. Clever.” As he pushed the button for the ground floor, he asked, “Did you learn anything new today?” “All kinds of interesting tidbits.” “So we can move onto other topics?” I laughed. “You’re at a race. Isn’t this currently the only topic of discussion?” “I know my role in tomorrow’s race.” He studied me a moment, as though waiting for me to respond to that comment. I didn’t have anything to say, so he continued. “If you need more information, I’ll tell you whatever you want. But,” he said with a mischievous look as we stepped out of the elevator, “I’d like to get to know you.” Ah, he was a charmer. We strolled along the walkway cut into manicured grass and lined with solar lights. The marina sprawled to our left, where a dozen or so boats were docked. Ky had been right. This was a much quieter area and there were fewer people milling about. They were all at the lounge inside and gambling in the casino. I was glad I’d dared to wear my over-the-top sweater because there was a slight chill to the early spring night, although it didn’t seem to affect Ky, because he hadn’t bothered with a jacket. As we approached the restaurant on the water, the bite of frigid
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air ebbed with the help of a couple of fire pits blazing bright. Salsa music flowed from the speakers mounted to the wooden posts that held up the palapa-style thatched roof above the tables on the deck. Ky directed me to a plainclothes cook manning a grill covered with chicken strips and chopped steak. He shook hands with the cook and chummed it up, obviously a repeat customer. “Two specials,” he said, placing our order and then whisking me off to a far corner with a few empty tables. Before we sat, he pulled me a little closer to him and shuffled me around the wooden floor with his comical idea of Salsa dancing that had us both laughing in a carefree way as we eventually fell into our chairs. “I hope you’re a better mechanic than dancer,” I told him when I caught my breath. “Or the team you work for is screwed tomorrow.” He chuckled as he scooted his chair next to mine. “We’re favored to win, so I’m sure we’ll have a good showing. We’re running against Robby Gordon and Jesse James, but we’ve beaten them before.” I hadn’t seen either one in the pits today, and no one had mentioned them, as though invoking the big-shot names would jinx their team’s chances of winning the race. “Have a little faith, is that what you’re telling me?” His grin was, I finally decided, his defining feature. That was saying something, considering how fantastically built he was, in such an erotically stirring way. Above all else, though, that teasing lift at the corner of his mouth sucked me in and made me absurdly crazy about this person I didn’t even know. Before he could reply to my comment, a small Hispanic woman wearing an apron covered with cartoon-type red and green chili peppers appeared at our table. She greeted Ky with a big smile and welcomed him back. When it came to me, she sized me
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up and then seemed to give her approval with a slight nod. She set a Corona in front of both of us, along with a shot of tequila and a plate of limes. “I’ll be back with the fajitas in a few minutes.” I eyed the Corona as Ky said, “If you’d prefer a glass of wine…” “No, no. This is fine. This is great.” Trying something different never hurt, right? Besides, I liked this laid-back atmosphere and comfortable setting. The music was sassy and upbeat and the strands of tiny white twinkle lights wrapped around the railing of the deck, along with the stars and moon, lit the river with a vibrant golden glow. This was no fancy Scottsdale restaurant, which was what I found so appealing about it. Well, that and the fact Ky was sitting next to me, lifting his bottle and tapping the rim gently to mine. “Cheers,” he said, a sparkle in his beautiful blue eyes. “Bottoms up.” I took a deep sip of beer and found it refreshing, considering my insides were ablaze. Christ, I’d never imagined it possible to be so turned inside out by a man, but this one had me nearly vibrating out of my chair. He showed me how to shoot the tequila, instructing me to lick the crook of my hand between my thumb and index finger, sprinkle some salt on the damp skin, then suck the salt from it, throw back the liquor and squeeze the juice from a sliced lime into my mouth. I executed the move following his demonstration and he watched me intently, a flicker of excitement in his eyes, which gave me a good indication he was as aroused as I was. The chicken fajitas arrived, and I made small talk over dinner as that dull throbbing started again in my pussy and heat oozed through my veins. The latter not being a result of the spicy food or the tequila, but from the way Ky looked at me. As though my obvious willingness to experiment both intrigued and stimulated him. Swallowing down a mouthful of brilliantly flavored chicken and peppers, I asked, “How’d you get into racing?”
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He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and told me, “Family tradition. Four generations of Richards have been in the racing business. My dad was a top competitor in Trophy Trucks before he died a couple of years ago.” For a moment, he deviated from the topic and I could see from the flash of pain in his eyes it had something to do with his father. “I was going to tell you about Trophy Trucks, wasn’t I? They’re the premier race vehicles on the circuit. Costs about a million bucks to build one, sometimes more.” I whistled under my breath. “Wow, that’s crazy.” “Not when you take it seriously. We’re all die-hards. Depending on the race and the class they run, teams might pay up to sixteen-hundred dollars or more for an entry fee. So, of course, everyone is determined to win.” “I had no idea there was so much money involved in this sport.” “Interestingly, it’s more of a lifestyle than a sport. There are several racing organizations that host a series of races, mostly throughout the Southwest and in Mexico. We’ve been prominent in a number of series, but the big fish to fry is always the Baja 1000.” “I heard about that a while back, when Patrick Dempsey ran the course,” I said, perking up. “SCORE International hosts the Baja Peninsula race.” He seemed pleased I knew about the Grand Poohbah of races. He smiled as he nodded. “It’s very intense. Very unpredictable. There’s no telling what will happen to the race vehicle or with the track and weather conditions. Racers get lost or misdirected by the locals. Cars break down in the middle of the desert. Drivers run for hours getting the hell beat out of them by wild bumps and turns. It’s a little insane, but damn good fun.” His smile and enthusiasm were infectious. “Man versus nature and machine at its finest?” I ventured. He chuckled again. “Something like that.”
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“Sounds exciting. I’m looking forward to seeing it tomorrow.” I polished off my beer and the waitress immediately delivered another for each of us, along with a second shot of tequila that I didn’t hesitate to throw back with Ky. The fiery sensation in my throat didn’t even compare to the one deep within me as he gave me a look of appreciation and respect. Apparently, I’d proven I wasn’t all uptown girl. Ah…if only he knew the truth. I’d never have the money to be an uptown girl. I was more a product of my environment. The publisher of the magazine I worked for had taken a huge chance on me several years ago, after I’d sold a few articles to other publications. Though I wrote for the socialite demographic, I was anything but. Rather, I was a quick learner who knew how to fit into the circumstances surrounding her. Not surprisingly—after years of buying my designer outfits and shoes off-rack or from eBay, because I couldn’t afford to set foot in Neiman Marcus or Prada but had to live up to a certain image—I found this evening’s fun and low-key setting a comfortable and enjoyable one. The company was titillating as well. Ky asked, “What made your publisher want to run an off-road racing article?” “We’ve been struggling with the economic change. We used to distribute specifically to affluent households, but today, that’s too small an audience. We ran a fitness article last month that had health and wellness gurus coming out of the woodwork. I’m not sure of the kind of impact we’ll see on readership from my feature, because our primary readers are female, but I think it’ll be educational and enlightening for them.” I took a sip of beer, then added, “It’s a trendy topic. This feature should provide good information for any woman wanting to ‘talk the talk’ with the man in her life, and I hope we’ll also increase our number of male readers. That would be extremely helpful.” “You like the magazine enough to do whatever you can to keep it in circulation?”
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“Yes, I do. More than that, I enjoy working with the people there.” I took another quick drink before admitting, “I really shouldn’t have been hired. I was nineteen when I moved to Phoenix, after getting the job. I didn’t even have a college degree. Couldn’t afford the classes. My dad had passed away when I was young and my mother had never worked, so it was a struggle for her to find something that paid enough to cover the rent on the one-bedroom apartment we moved into.” “Where was this?” he asked as he sat forward in his chair, listening intently. “Seattle. We lived in a terrible neighborhood, which is sad to say, because I’ve heard Seattle is a beautiful city. I never saw the highlights, for the most part anyway.” “Why’d you take a job in Phoenix?” “It was the only place I’d been offered a decent job. I quit school when I was sixteen so I could work at a grocery store with my mom, in order for us to make ends meet. I was a good writer from the time I was a kid, though, so I sent out a few pieces every now and then, and they were published. Scottsdale Live was hiring right around the time I’d sold my fourth article. The position required a bachelor’s degree. I didn’t even have my GED at the time. But I contacted the publisher, told her where I’d sold my work, sent her writing samples and promised I’d not only get a bachelor’s degree, but a master’s as well. After reading my stuff, she said she had a good feeling about me and trusted it enough to give me an opportunity I don’t think anyone else would have offered.” “Sounds like a great boss.” “She is. That’s why this feature is important to me. If I can help in any way… I want to do whatever I can to make the magazine a success again.” A wave of emotion washed over me as I said, “Not only do I owe Melodie for helping me to fulfill a dream—and providing me with a paycheck that allows me to take classes since I’m now onto my master’s, while also leaving enough left over to send to my mother so she doesn’t have to work so many hours—I’m thrilled to be working for her. The magazine has been sort of a home away from home for me.” 17
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“That’s a nice sentiment,” he said. “I can understand where you’re coming from. Racing was a big deal to my dad and being with the team and involved in the sport makes me feel closer to him, even though he’s no longer with us.” “I’m sorry about that.” He smiled sweetly at me, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “You know how it feels.” “Yeah, I do.” We were both quiet for a while, finishing our meals and sipping our beers. Finally, I asked, “What happened to your father?” “Rollover. Came into a turn too hard and fast and the truck flipped several times. The roll cage collapsed under the pressure and both he and his co-driver were killed.” I gasped. “Ky, I’m so sorry. How horrific. My father got cancer and we had months to prepare for the inevitable. You had seconds. I can’t even imagine—” “It’s just as bad to have months as it is to have seconds, Giselle. Losing a parent no matter the circumstance is difficult. But it sounds as though you and your mom are still well connected with each other.” “We are. What about you and your mother?” He shook his head, then took a long pull from his beer, draining it. “She always said racing would be the death of him. Proven right, she packed up and moved to Hawaii. She didn’t want to be anywhere near our home in Texas or the racing world. I don’t blame her. She was devastated. We all were. But instead of running from the tragedy, I stepped up my research on a carbon fiber mix that’s helped me build a more substantial and nearly indestructible roll cage for Trophy Trucks. For any off-road racing vehicle, actually.” “That’s incredible,” I told him, in awe of his ingenuity and drive. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five or six, but he had a sophisticated and mature air about him.
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“Problem is,” he said, looking modest despite the safer innovation he brought to a very dangerous sport, “the compound is expensive to manufacture, so I’m having trouble replicating it for a reasonable cost that doesn’t break a race team’s budget. I’m still working on it, though. And advocating the racing organizations deem it a regulation component once I get the cost under control.” “That’s very impressive,” I said, adding his inventiveness and conscientiousness to the list of things I liked about him. “At the end of the day,” he told me in an earnest voice, “we’re all in this together. I don’t need to jack up the price of the cage for profit. I want it to be a standard feature on any race car for safety purposes, not for personal financial gain. If I’d had the prototype built before my dad’s last race… Who knows,” he said with a sigh. “It could have saved two lives.” He was quiet for a moment and then, in a low voice, he amended his statement, making it a conviction instead. “I know it would have saved their lives.” “You can’t blame yourself,” I told him as I placed a hand over his while it rested on the table. “I’m sure your dad and his co-driver knew every hazard related to racing. It was their choice to get in that truck. This doesn’t fall on your shoulders, Ky.” He gave a slight nod of his head. In turn, I gave him time to let the tense moment pass. Finally, he stood and pulled some bills from his front pocket. He dropped the cash on the table and held his hand out to me. “How about a walk down by the water?”
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Chapter Two “Sounds nice,” I told Ky as I slipped my hand in his, once more reveling in the warmth and strength as well as the slight roughness of it. That physical zap I’d gotten earlier when we shook hands returned, the natural chemistry jolting me again. He led me across the deck and we strolled along the walkway to the marina. After several minutes, he glanced over at me and said, “You’re the quiet one now.” A little embarrassed, I admitted, “I’m surprised I told you so much about myself. I never lay that heavy stuff at people’s feet. Must have been the tequila.” He eyed me with a curious look. “How does anyone get to know you then?” I shrugged. He had a valid point. But I’d written a series of articles years ago with a renowned dating expert who’d advised against revealing too much about your past, especially right off the bat. As was the case with most women, I’d eaten up that piece of advice, along with the word of warning that men preferred uncomplicated women, particularly ones without emotional baggage. Yet walking beside me was a man who had his own emotional baggage and wasn’t hesitant to share it with me—or learn about mine. Maybe it was because we played on the same field—particularly with our family situations—we were comfortable sharing our true selves. I, for one, didn’t seem to have any trouble opening up to him. He was personable and engaging. I liked him immensely. When we reached the pier, I asked, “What do you want to know about me?” “Everything,” he said with a smile. “Starting with whether or not you’re involved with someone.” I laughed. “Do I strike you as the type of woman who’d be holding hands with one man when she’s dating another?”
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No,” he was quick to say. “You don’t. But I had to ask.” We reached the dock that ran the width of the slips and arrived in front of a stunning boat anchored all by its lonesome. Or rather, it showed itself off spectacularly as it stretched along this otherwise empty portion of the marina. “Wow,” I commented as I took in the sleek lines and pristine deck. “Some yacht.” “It’s a sixty-three-foot Sea Ray 630 Super Sun Sport.” My head whipped in Ky’s direction. “You know boats too?” “I know this one.” With an easy grin, he explained, “She belongs to the race team. I sleep here when we’re racing near a lake or an ocean. It’s quiet and private and I enjoy the sound of the water lapping against the sides. Calms my nerves before a hectic day on the racetrack. You wanna step inside?” “Hell, yes,” I blurted out before the implication of my words even hit my brain. “I mean, you know. Just to see the interior.” My cheeks flushed as Ky chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting anything else,” he told me. My face and neck still burned. He led me forward and I realized I went without a bit of reluctance. Despite my bumbling, I truly wanted to see the personal space he coveted and was thrilled he’d invited me onboard. We took the short flight of steps at the back of the boat down to what I could only refer to as the belly of the Sea Ray, possessing little nautical knowledge or vernacular myself. Regardless of my lack of comparative examples to drawn upon, I was blown away by the opulence of the living room setting and the wet bar. The sofas were plush and a deep-blue hue that wasn’t quite royal and not quite navy. The accents were rich, polished cherrywood, illuminated by a warm golden glow from the soft lighting. Wood floors and travertine in the galley added to the elegance and sophistication of the interior. “Impressed?” Ky asked as I took it all in.
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“This is unbelievable. I’d never guess from the outside how much space there is. A family of six could live here comfortably.” “You’re right. She sleeps four plus two crew members, when they’re needed.” “Crew members?” I whistled under my breath. “Yeah, this is definitely my idea of a yacht.” “Don’t be intimidated.” Easier said than done. “I did mention I grew up in a one-bedroom apartment in a rough neighborhood in Seattle, right? My mother’s idea of inspiring me to do better than she’d done was to take me to the Four Seasons Resort when I was thirteen and it left me speechless. Guess she wanted me to see how the ‘other half’ lived.” “I see her plan worked,” he told me as he eyed my outfit and shoes. With a shake of my head, I said, “Don’t be fooled. I buy everything secondhand. Most of my money goes to my classes and my mom.” “Is that why you wrote features when you were younger? For the money?” “I still do.” “Ever just write for the love of it?” A nice sentiment, but not a luxury I’d ever felt I could afford. “Call it fear of slipping into the poverty level, as was the case when I was a kid. Nothing motivates you as much as having to rely on food stamps to eat—not even a ‘this could be your lifestyle if you work hard enough’ trip to the Four Seasons.” “All of that is why you dropped out of school to get a job.” “We were both ashamed,” I told him honestly, though I had no idea why I shared so much of my sordid past. Ky was just incredibly easy to talk to and seemed genuinely interested without being the least bit judgmental. “It’s humbling, even when you’re a teenager. As for my mom… She was just so devastated and humiliated she didn’t have the means or the skills to provide for me the way she wanted to, or thought she should.
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Even though I never asked for anything, she wanted me to have the same things other girls at school had. Namely, dolls and dresses that didn’t come from Goodwill.” “How’d you feel about that?” he asked in an empathetic, not pitying, voice. My gaze snapped up and I said, “I didn’t care about that part. You quickly outgrow clothes and toys when you’re young—and besides, it honed my skills for scouting killer deals on shoes and handbags later in life.” I made light of my lack of material possessions because all that had really mattered to me was that my mom and I stuck together and worked as a team after losing my dad. “Back then, nothing held my interest long enough to make me feel I was missing out on anything. That is, until I got to Scottsdale…” I remembered feeling too similar to Little Orphan Annie among the women who all seemed to have been left hefty inheritances by Daddy Warbucks. Melodie had helped me to cultivate a style that had allowed me to fit into my upscale environment, though I was the only one at the magazine who lived in a small studio apartment outside the city limits. “What mattered most to me,” I told him, “was to make things easier on my mother. And all that mattered to her was that I live a better life.” “So you’ve both made concessions for each other. I bet she’s proud of you, Giselle.” His fingertips grazed my temple as he swept back long bangs from my face. His fingers skimmed along my jaw and then rested beneath my chin, gently lifting it. I stared into his mesmerizing eyes as he seemed to commit every detail of my face to memory. My breathing turned shallow and my chest rose and fell a bit faster. My appreciation of Ky’s grounded nature aside, I was intensely attracted to him. I felt an exciting current arc between us, connecting us and drawing us closer together, despite the fact that neither one moved. Only a few inches of space separated us, and while I wanted to close the gap, I was paralyzed by the electricity running rampant through my body. 23
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I tingled and sizzled from head to toe and my inner walls clenched involuntarily, as though my pussy were anticipating being filled by this magnificent man. The thought sent a shiver of exhilaration down my spine. His irises darkened in color and his jaw clenched for a moment before his head dipped and his lips brushed over mine. I jumped back almost instantly, as though he’d poked me with a cattle prod. I sucked in a breath as heat erupted in my belly and shockwaves rippled through my body. I pressed two fingers to my lips for a second. Ky’s jaw tightened again as he seemed to process, the way I did, what had just happened between us. Finally, I asked, “You felt that, right?” With a slow nod, he said, “To the core of my being.” “That’s a little scary, don’t you think?” The shake of his head was a decisive one. “Considering I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since the moment I laid eyes on you in the pits… Guess I’m not surprised.” My heart beat so hard, I wondered if he could hear it. My pulse raced and that pressure in my pussy put me right on the edge again of wanting to jump his bones. He reached for my hand and coaxed me back to him. “You’re fascinating and gorgeous and compassionate. Yeah, I’m gonna feel a jolt when I kiss you. I like it.” “I wasn’t complaining,” I told him, his words bringing a smile to my face. “I’ve just never felt my insides flip so dramatically. Made my toes curl too.” “Aw, I can do better than that.” He bent his head to mine again and kissed me. A full-on, openmouthed, tongue-tangling kiss that sent every fiber of my being haywire. His arms circled my waist and he pulled me to him, our bodies instantly melding together. His kiss was nothing short of mind-blowing. Searing. Powerful. Passionate. I clutched one of his massive biceps to hold myself steady, not that I was going anywhere 24
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in his tight embrace. My other hand plowed through his silky hair, twisting in the long strands. He kissed me as though we’d both been waiting our whole lives for this moment. I realized I had been. No man had ever captured my interest so quickly or sent my heart soaring and my soul rejoicing. He held me against his hard, hunky body in a possessive way that was thrilling and as arousing as everything else he did to me—as arousing as everything about him. He deepened our kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. My stomach flipped again and my pussy ached for him as a rapacious need tore through my body. An almost animalistic nature replaced my usually sensible one. I had the sudden desire to strip his clothes from him and touch and taste his hot flesh. My fingertips burned to press into his rigid muscles as he drove into me, hard and fast. Oh yeah, my emotions were way out of control…as was my physical response to him. The fiery sensations obviously burned within him too, because he broke our kiss and muttered, “Getting hot in here, isn’t it?” He reached for the zipper on my sweater and whisked it down its track. I had no desire to relinquish my hold on him, but wanted out of the heavy garment. I yanked it off and tossed it toward the sofa. Then I gripped fistfuls of T-shirt at his waist and pulled, lifting the shirt up. Ky grabbed the material at the back of his neck and hauled the tee over his head. It went the way of my sweater. As he stood bare-chested before me, I fought to make my ragged breathing slow, but it only came in heavier pulls as I stared at him. To say he had a killer body would not do the man justice. His biceps bulged with rock-hard muscles and his forearms were equally strong. Above his collarbone, his traps had just the right definition to them, with an enticing display of pecs below. Small, pebbled nipples called to me and I couldn’t resist the urge to scrape a manicured fingernail over one, which made his body jerk as he groaned. 25
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The pads of my fingers trailed down his remarkably sculpted abs, his muscles flexing beneath my touch. I reached for the top button of his fly and toyed with the metal disc. He said, in a somewhat strained voice, “Know what you’re doing, sweetheart?” “I know what I’m doing,” I assured him. “The more accurate question is, do I know what I’m getting myself into?” His sexy grin twisted my insides in knots and did incredibly crazy things between my legs. My clit tingled and my inner thighs quivered. “You don’t have to get yourself into anything you’re not sure of, darlin’. I’d be content stretching out on the couch and kissing you all night long. I’ll keep my clothes on. Or I can walk you back to the hotel.” I suspected the latter would be the safest approach, but it wasn’t at all what I wanted. Though a one-night stand with a sinfully delicious man like Ky was most definitely not the norm for me—one-night stands in general weren’t—I couldn’t muster the decency to walk away. And while his first offer was appealing, I knew deep in my heart I wanted more. Innate, electrifying connections such as this didn’t grow on trees, that was for damn sure. “I’m not ready to leave just yet, if that’s okay with you.” The glimmer in his eyes told me it was more than okay with him. He said, “Stay as long as you want. I’m in no hurry for you to go anywhere.” “I like that you always say what’s on your mind,” I told him. “You’re not out to win someone over for your own benefit or hold back to protect yourself. That’s very rare.” “Not really. You’re the same way.” “Oh I have plenty of defense mechanisms,” I admitted with a laugh. But then something profound occurred to me and I found myself saying, “The world I live in isn’t exactly known for warmth and sincerity. Scottsdale can be a very superficial and
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pretentious town. Not everyone is that way, of course. But more so than not. I guess that’s why I don’t talk about where I come from or let people know who I really am.” “Why do you stay? The magazine?” I nodded. “And the people I work with, as I mentioned. They’re all very different and all very wonderful. I actually don’t live in Scottsdale. Can’t afford it and I wouldn’t enjoy it if I did. North Phoenix is nice, much more down to earth. If I could convince my mom to move to Arizona, I’d be surrounded by a beautiful family. But she won’t leave Seattle because that’s where my father is buried.” He studied me a moment as he lifted a plump curl from my bare shoulder and rubbed the strands between his finger and thumb, as though sampling the texture. Finally, he said, “I can see you in an upscale environment like Scottsdale. Yet you fit in here at this race too. Sure, you stand out with your clothes and makeup, but there’s nothing wrong with that. You’ve got a sophisticated look. But you also seem comfortable here. Relaxed and natural and… I don’t know. As though you’re having a good time.” “I am having a good time. In fact, I’m having a great time.” My fingers had been hooked in the waistband of his jeans this entire time and I used the leverage to tug him closer to me. His soft laugh reverberated deep within me. His next words convinced me I was making the right decision by staying. “You got my adrenaline flowing. But all the major moves are up to you.” “Seems to me we’re on the same page.” “Consenting?” he asked with the lifting of a brow and a suggestive glint in his eyes that set my pulse racing again. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Another low groan fell from his lips. Desire flashed in his blue irises and I couldn’t stay away from him a second longer.
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My hands splayed over his cut abs and then moved upward to his chest. Without missing a beat, his arms wound around my waist and he pulled me to him. In a surprisingly daring move on my part, I shifted a hand to the back of his head and stretched on tiptoe, needing the extra height despite my four-inch heels, to plant a very solid kiss on him. I didn’t retain control for long, though. Ky’s head lowered so I was no longer on my toes and he took over the kiss with what could only be described as a scorching-hot liplock that commanded my passion and conveyed his. His tongue delved deep at the same time one of his hands left my waist and eased between us, moving upward to palm a breast and squeeze it almost roughly. My body reacted instantly to the aggressive touch and a moan lodged in my throat as fire roared through me. His other hand shifted from the small of my back to my ass. He cupped a cheek and pressed me tighter against him. I felt his erection and heat and—in a strangely enlightened, visceral way—his need for me. It mirrored my own need. I let him have his way with me. The hand on my chest quickly slipped under my top to cup my breast more intimately. I felt the warmth of his skin through the satin and lace material of my bra and though it made my insides burn, I craved so much more. I desperately wanted skin-on-skin contact. I wanted to feel his hands on my naked body. I wanted to feel my bare breasts pressed to his bare chest. I wanted it all. Disentangling myself from him, I reached for the hem of my shirt and quickly stripped it off. I didn’t question my uncharacteristically wanton behavior. All I could think of was how much I wanted Ky, and how dynamic we were together. Not surprisingly, he didn’t handle me in the traditional sense. He took one look at me, let out a sexy grunt and then turned me around so my back was to him. He leaned in close and his hands glided over my stomach and up to my breasts. Palming them, he kneaded and massaged in a confident, territorial way. As though I belonged only to him and he knew it. 28
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He nuzzled the crook of my neck, his lips swept over my skin, kissing and nipping until my body was so limp, I practically slumped against him as his hard chest sealed to my back and his entire essence enveloped me. He kissed me just below the ear and I felt the effects deep within me. A hot and restless sensation blossomed low in my belly as he pushed the cups of my bra down and tucked them under my breasts. He caressed the mounds again with his erotic blend of gentle roughness. His touch was highly arousing, sending me into sensory overload. With skilled hands, he pinched and rolled my nipples until I was delirious with desire and in need of relief from all the sexual tension he created. Clasping one of his hands, I dragged it down my stomach to the apex of my legs. His strong fingers rubbed my labia through my pants. His arm at my chest stretched across me to cup one breast while his forearm covered the other, the soft hairs teasing the nipple. “You’re making me unbelievably hard,” he whispered in my ear. His words sent a shiver of delight down my spine. “I’m not exactly in control of my own body at the moment.” “There is a serious amount of chemistry between us.” It was more than that. His raw sexual intensity sparked something inside me that had me buzzing more excitedly than a bee in a honeycomb. When he released me, an unchecked murmur of protest fell from my lips. “Patience,” he said in a slightly amused though mostly strained tone. His large hands slid behind the waistband of my black pants and he pushed the material down my legs. Crouching behind me, he helped me out of my boots and socks as I flattened my palms on the smooth wood of the credenza for support. He discarded my clothing before standing again. With one hand, he flicked the fastening on my bra and I slipped out of the lingerie. I wore nothing but the thong panties that matched my bra. A low, almost primal groan from Ky told me he liked what he saw.
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With his arms around me from behind once more, he said, “You are damn sexy.” He certainly made me feel that way. His arm crossed my chest again, and he palmed a breast as his other hand returned to my labia, stroking the sensitive flesh as I ground my ass against his erection. Kissing and nipping my neck as he increased the pressure of his touch between my legs caused my pussy to throb with an erratic beat. When he whisked aside the satin covering me and his fingers glided over my clit, a small cry passed my parted lips and filled the otherwise quiet air. My nipples were impossibly hard, but as he rolled one between his finger and thumb, they both seemed to pucker even tighter. The sensation was an erotic and tantalizing one, again making me crave so much more. I suddenly became the poster child for the term hot and bothered. Ky seemed perfectly in tune with my increasingly relentless desire. His hand between my legs slipped a little lower and he worked a long finger into my pussy. I bit back the scream of sheer ecstasy that bubbled in my throat. No need to draw attention to us. A sharp moan eked out of me anyway. “God, you’re tight,” he muttered against my neck, his warm breath teasing my skin. “And wet.” I had no doubt. His finger inside me caressed my inner walls as the heel of his hand massaged my clit. My head fell back on his broad shoulder and my deep breaths turned into short, staccato ones laced with sounds of pure pleasure. This seemed to turn him on—and inspire him—even more, because he disentangled himself from me and dragged my panties down my legs as he knelt behind me. “Spread your legs a little wider, sweetheart,” he said in a gruff tone that excited me.
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I did as he instructed as his hands moved up the backs of my thighs to my ass. He squeezed the cheeks before leaning forward and lightly biting one. I let out a tiny squeal of exhilaration at the unexpected move. His thumbs rubbed my swollen labia, then stretched the fleshy lips apart as his tongue swiped over the knot of nerves he’d already brought to life. I bent forward and rested my forearms on the waist-high credenza, propping myself up. I gave him better access to me as I arched my back and lifted my ass a bit higher. His fingertips pressed into my cheeks as his thumbs kept my pussy lips spread and his tongue did sinfully delicious things to my clit. My nerves endings sizzled and fiery sensations blazed through my body. When he suckled my clit, I gasped as mini lightning bolts struck all the right places. “Oh God.” I moaned. “Ky… That feels so good.” His naughty side thrilled me, as did everything else about him. The tip of his tongue flickered over my clit with enough pressure to make my pulse jump and my inner muscles clench. My stomach coiled with anticipation, because I suspected he had much more in mind when it came to getting me off. Sure enough, he suckled my clit again and a wave of pleasure washed over me, so strong, my legs shook. He flicked the nub and I groaned. “Yes,” I whispered on a harsh breath. “Lick my pussy. You’re driving my wild.” My unbidden cries of delight filled the quiet cabin, and my heart beat so hard and fast, I was certain he could hear it. Flames danced along my skin and heat prickled the erogenous zones between my legs. He licked and suckled until I was panting harshly and drowning in the sexual bliss he so easily incited. Clearly he felt inclined to kick things up a notch. Using his hands instead of his tongue now, Ky stood and eased two fingers into my wet pussy from behind as his other hand slid around to the front of me and he rubbed 31
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my clit. His fingers pumped in and out of my cunt, quick and determined. Myriad sensations overwhelmed me and they all felt so incredibly fantastic, I wanted to cling to them forever. But I was too lost in the pleasure to not barrel toward the release from all the tension mounting within me. Ky didn’t let up and moments later, a sensational and breath-stealing eruption deep in my pussy made me cry out again. “Oh God, yes!” I moaned as I succumbed to the wicked beats and the pulsating heat radiating inside me. His fingers continued to work their magic as I orgasmed, prolonging and intensifying the glorious sensations as my heavy breathing echoed all around us. When the climax eventually ebbed and I relaxed a little, he withdrew from me and took a small step away. I straightened and turned to face him, a bit unsteady on my feet from the tremors running through me. As I stared up at him, the dark passion swirling in his blue irises and the lusty look he gave me made my stomach and my heart flutter. I closed the gap between us, but before I could make my own move, his fingers twined in my hair at the back of my head and he urged me toward him as his mouth crashed down on mine. I melted under the heat of his kiss, my body melding to his as our tongues tangled. I couldn’t deny the orgasm he’d delivered had been out of this world, but his kisses were even more astounding. No man had ever kissed me as though he couldn’t get enough of me. As though he couldn’t get close enough to me or satisfy his need for me. Nor had one seemed less cautious about the message he conveyed with the affectionate gesture. There was nothing guarded or censored in his kiss or in the way he looked at me, touched me or held me. Ky did not hold back his desires or yearnings. He shared them with me even nonverbally. 32
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When he finally dragged his mouth from mine, I whispered, “Fuck me.” He groaned. His eyelids dipped as he gazed down at me. His breathing was ragged and his chest rose and fell as sharply as mine did. I wondered if his heart pounded just as wildly. Reaching for the fly of his Levi’s, I yanked the material apart, the buttons releasing easily from their holes. He extracted two condoms from the front pocket and my teeth clamped down on my lower lip to keep my smile at bay as he tossed them on the credenza. “Some Boy Scout,” I teased in a soft voice. “Wishful thinking, actually. I wanted you the second I saw you.” Yet he still left the progression of our evening up to me. I said, “I’m not going to change my mind at the last minute, believe me. I want you too.” He shoved the denim down his muscular thighs. He toed off his boots and shucked the jeans and socks. His black briefs remained, but they didn’t hide his hard-on. His cock strained against the material, impressive in size. Excitement rocketed through me. I’d only had two lovers in my twenty-nine years, and neither had been anything to write home about. I’d assumed that was due to their inability to engage in emotional intimacy, but now I knew it was something more than that. My two flat and fizzled affairs had clearly been a result of neutral chemistry. We’d enjoyed each other’s company, but I’d never sparked with a man the way I did with Ky. Particularly within seconds of meeting him. The object of my immediate and very intense desire kissed me again, then divested himself of his briefs and said, “Turn around,” as he reached for a condom and tore open the packet. Without doubt, sex with Ky would be nothing short of earth-shattering. I could sense it in the energy that continuously arced between us. I could see it the rigidity of his muscles and the blaze in his eyes. I could feel it to the core of my being, because we were not the least bit tentative with each other and it was obvious mutual pleasure was 33
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what we both sought. Along with that more elusive innate connection we’d already begun to form. I did as he asked, leaning over the polished wood again, bent at the waist. The tip of his cock nudged my opening and I sucked in a breath as anticipation skittered through me. His hands on my ass spread my cheeks and he inched his way into me, slowly but confidently. My fingertips pressed into the wood to help steady me as his thick cock filled me. A final thrust deep into my pussy pushed a moan from my mouth. “Oh Jesus,” I said on a jagged breath. “Oh God. Ky. That is so…so…” Words failed me as his hands gripped my waist and he pulled almost all the way out of me and then pushed back in. “Incredible,” was the best I could manage, and even that word didn’t do this particular pleasure justice. His long, full strokes drove me wild. I arched my back and again lifted my ass a little higher. I watched him over my bare shoulder, his intensity and passion stamped across his chiseled face and flashing in his eyes. He was being much gentler with me than I think his dark desire demanded. I wiggled my ass against his pelvis to encourage him. Through clenched teeth, he said, “It’s a bit snug in here, babe. I don’t want to hurt you.” “You’re not,” I assured him, my tone breathless. The feel of him deep in my cunt was the most amazing rush I’d ever experienced. I didn’t want him treating me so delicately. I said, “I love how assertive you are. And that you’re sure of yourself. You don’t hold back when you’re kissing me. Don’t do it now.” He gave a slight shake of his head, but then I squeezed his cock with my inner muscles and he groaned as he thrust harder into me. “Oh, yes,” I said, deliriously happy. “Like that. Just like that.” He didn’t need detailed instructions. This guy had already proved he knew what he was doing. But I understood, given our difference in size, how he worried he’d hurt me. 34
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That was the furthest thing from my mind. He couldn’t experience exactly what I felt, and it was anything but pain. In fact, as he let his natural instinct take over and he fucked me harder and faster, coherent thought slipped my mind. Strands of my hair teased a nipple as my low ponytail fell over one shoulder. I continued to watch Ky over the other shoulder, loving how the moonlight and the soft glow of the few globes that were lit in the cabin illuminated his eyes, now dark with desire. Lust and something indefinable radiated from the brilliant blue pools, captivating me. His jaw was set and his breath was as scarce as mine as he hammered into me, jolting my body and turning me on even more. I trembled from the intensity of his lovemaking and the powerful sensations building within me again. I was about to come when he pulled out of me and wrapped an arm around my waist to help me straighten. I suspected he did it on purpose, to bring me back down before he pushed me over the top again. He turned me to face him, clasped my waist and hoisted me up so I sat on the edge of the credenza. He spread my legs wide, hooking his strong forearms under the backs of my knees. Thrusting into me, he created all-new sensations to add to the list of other sizzling emotions running rampant through my body. I planted my hands behind me to brace myself as he fucked me. My head fell back on my shoulders and unfamiliar moans of arousal and excitement spilled forth from my parted lips. He lifted one of my legs higher, resting the crook of it against his shoulder as he leaned toward me, his hips picking up a quick tempo that had him pistoning into me. He held me close with one hand at the small of my back as the other cupped my breast and squeezed again in that not so delicate way that lit me up brighter than a slot machine with a winning combination. He pushed me right to the edge. Then he kissed me, hard and demanding and possessive, and I lost it completely. I tore my mouth from his just as a firestorm roared
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through my body and I screamed his name, no longer giving a damn if the entire marina heard me. His pace slowed, but his intensity remained. He eased my leg from his shoulder and, still inside me, palmed my ass cheeks and lifted me up. I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips. He walked us over to the sofa and slowly worked his way down to a cushion, with my help as my knees on either side of him braced us. He leaned against the back of the couch with me straddling him and my palms splayed across his hard pectoral muscles. His hands moved to my hips and he guided me to rise slightly off his lap as his own hips bucked and he fucked me with fast, forceful strokes that propelled me right back into sensory overload. I felt another orgasm swell within me and I dropped my head to his shoulder. “My God, you are so good. You hit all the right spots and with the just the right pressure. I love how you feel inside me.” He kissed the top of my head and said, “You have no idea how much I want to give you.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but in sexual terms, I got the gist. His rapid speed slowed and he pushed my hips down, until he was deep within me and I was riding his cock in a more languid, sensual rhythm. His arms wrapped around me as I slid one hand to his back, pressing my palm to his shoulder blade. My other hand rested on his chest, my head still on his shoulder. He cradled me in a warm and tight embrace as we moved together. Though he’d changed the sex from pleasure-filled fucking to emotionally tender lovemaking, it was still just as thrilling. Just as stimulating. Just as sexy. More so, to tell the truth. His lips brushed my temple and then he whispered in my ear, “You’re sensational.”
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Peculiar feelings rose within me, equally stirring and arousing. I was cresting another tsunami-type wave that would, I now knew from experience, leave me breathless and tingling all over. But I wanted him to come with me. “Is this good for you?” I asked of our position and pace. “Oh Christ. You have no idea.” His arms tightened around me. “I thought kissing you was mind-blowing. This is… I don’t know. Heaven?” I laughed softly. “Right here on earth.” His fingers stroked my spine as the sensations inside me reached a near crescendo. “You feel amazing,” he murmured against my hair. “Ky,” I whispered, though my mind suddenly went blank. Only one thought pushed through my passion-induced haze. “I’m going to come again.” He thrust up into me in his aggressive way and it was all I needed to hit another high note. I let out a long, lusty moan as the wave crashed over me. I clung to him, my face buried in the crook of his neck as my pussy contracted around his cock. “Oh, yeah,” he groaned. “Squeeze me tight, sweetheart.” I continued to do so and felt his body quiver and then quake as he came. He said my name on a tattered breath as his cock pulsed inside me, keeping my own arousal in high gear. We held each other for several minutes, neither one of us moving or speaking. It was a comfortable silence filled with that same electricity we’d generated from the moment we’d met. And that’s when the panic crept around the fringes of my delirium…
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Chapter Three Could I be falling for a guy I’d only met that very morning? Was it possible? Prudent, certainly not. He lived in Texas and was constantly on the go with an offroad racing team. But possible? Lifting my head from his shoulder, I found him gazing fixedly at me. His grin was that one-cornered lazy one, and in his eyes I saw a mixture of tenderness and dark passion, those contradictory emotions that continued to stir something inside me, and which gave me the answer I’d been searching for—yes. Yes, I could fall for a guy I’d only known for one eventful day and several hours into one sinful night. Mystery solved there, I had to pose another question to myself—was this wise? I suspected the smart thing to do was climb off the hunky mechanic, gather up my clothes and return to my hotel room. Alone. If I was already drowning in bliss, wouldn’t I get trapped in the undertow if I stayed any longer? Breaking the powerful connection between us was inevitable. It wasn’t as though we were going to see each other again, right? We lived in two completely different worlds and had completely different interests. Yes, he did make my pulse race and my heart soar. The things he did to my body were sensual and erotic. And what he did to my soul… Well, that was a problem unto itself, because I felt the very distinct desire for intimacy with this man that went far beyond the physical variety. I could see us staying huddled on the couch awhile longer, with him still inside me and his arms still around me, as we talked about anything and everything that popped into our heads. And that would just make things worse in the long run.
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So I extracted myself from his warm embrace and stood. I was about to turn away and do exactly as I’d considered—gather my clothes and return to my hotel room— when he took me by the hand and led me deeper into the boat’s enormous cabin, snatching the second condom from the credenza along the way. Had he known what I was up to and had therefore acted before I could? Naturally, that notion thrilled me. Despite my previous reservations, I couldn’t deny the prickle of excitement over him not wanting me to leave just yet. He opened a door and gestured to the room in front of us. “Master suite and head,” he said. “‘Head’?” I asked. “Yeah. Bathroom.” He indicated another door with the sweep of a hand. “At your disposal.” I smiled, again despite myself, as he sauntered over to the king-size bed. He dropped the condom on the nightstand and pulled back the plush duvet—in the same jewel-toned hue as the sofas—and the crisp white sheets beneath it. “Which side do you prefer?” he asked. My stomach flip-flopped, contradicting the apprehension I’d felt previously. “Either is fine.” I ducked into the head, which was narrow but certainly not lacking in amenities and twenty-four-carat-gold-accented fixtures. I could see why Ky would take advantage of the sleeping quarters when offered the chance. We were surrounded by pure luxury and secluded in our own private haven. When I returned to the suite, I felt a natural compulsion to cover myself as best possible with an arm over my chest and one across my stomach. But Ky’s eyes roved my naked body with appreciation flashing in them and his grin widened, chasing away the touch of self-consciousness.
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I wasn’t used to parading around naked in front of a man, but with this one admiring me with a wicked glint in his eyes, I didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable. He used the facilities as I crawled under the covers. After turning off the lights, he joined me, instantly reaching for me and pulling me to him. He kissed me in the searing, passionate way that caused me to forget everything except him—and how he lit my insides and made my pussy ache for everything he had to offer. His large hands cupped my breasts and massaged them before toying with the nipples until they were tight and tingly. He dragged his mouth from mine and bent his head to my chest. His tongue swept over a puckered bud, teasing it before he sucked it into his mouth. Flames of desire flickered along my clit and that hot and restless feeling swelled within me, the heat and achiness consuming me. I clasped one of his hands and directed it between my legs. He changed up the position on me, entwining our fingers so mine brushed over my pussy lips and clit. His mouth was still on my breast, tonguing my nipple, when he released my fingers and worked two of his into my wet pussy as I continued to rub my clit. My eyelids fluttered closed as the back of my head hit a plump pillow and a sigh of ecstasy escaped my lips. I lifted my hips as Ky’s fingers stroked me with a fevered pitch that turned my sighs into throaty moans. He kissed his way up to my neck, where he nibbled seductively before whispering in my ear, “Come for me.” I practically melted into the mattress. The firestorm returned full force and I let the flames devour me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pressed my body against his, already addicted to the feel of his hard muscles against my softer curves. His skin was hot and his breathing had accelerated right along with mine. His thumb rubbed my clit as his fingers nearly withdrew from me and then plunged back in, pushing deep and eliciting a maelstrom of sensations that whirled deep in my cunt, building strength and velocity. 40
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His lips swept over mine before engaging me in another mind-blowing kiss. His aggressive touch between my legs made my body bow as I tried to get even closer to him. I lost myself in the pleasure he gave me. Breaking our kiss, he simply murmured, “Come.” “Ky,” I whispered his name as a sexual euphoria swept over me. I climaxed, not surprisingly, at his command. His fingers stayed inside me as I savored every second of my orgasm, and I clutched them tightly, not in any particular hurry to feel that empty void that would ensue when he withdrew from me. A minute or so passed, and then I released him and he moved away, picking up the condom from the nightstand and ripping the packet open with his teeth. He was sheathed in a heartbeat and rolled me onto my stomach. He entered me from behind with a confident thrust that made me bite into one of the many pillows beneath me. I grabbed fistfuls of down as he plunged deep into my pussy and made love to me with quick, assertive strokes. “That is so good,” I told him in an edgy voice. “You make me want to scream.” “That might bring hotel security onboard,” he said in a strained tone. “They’d get one hell of a show.” Another raspy moan fell from my lips. “Oh God, keep doing that. Fuck me hard.” He seemed as caught up in the intensity of our copulation as I was. His hips jerked forward and back as his cock hammered into me. He wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me steady. By my shoulder, he flattened a palm against the mattress as his chest pressed to my back. I was burning up from the heat of his skin and the scorching sensations he evoked. But it all felt so wonderful, I didn’t want it to ever end. Ky’s stamina was impressive as he fucked me and, had he not made me come practically the second I’d climbed into bed with him, I wouldn’t have lasted long without another orgasm.
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Yet the fiery emotions blazed through me once more with every full thrust, and I knew I’d come again soon. The arm around my waist loosened and his hand swept over my stomach and down to the apex of my legs. He massaged my clit as he moved inside me, our bodies in perfect sync with each other as I ground my ass against his pelvis while he pushed deep. He dropped tender kisses on my shoulder and neck. From time to time, he whispered sexy, naughty words in my ear. When my body began to tremble with the need for another release, I said, “Come with me this time.” He groaned, low and sexy. “Squeeze my cock.” I did. “Oh yeah. Just like that.” I squeezed and released, then squeezed harder. He let out a sharp grunt. “That’s it. Fuck me.” I worked his cock with my inner muscles as he continued to finger my clit. The frenzy of sensations within me gathered speed and strength until I couldn’t hold them back a second longer. My orgasm was as powerful as all the others before it, and I cried out again. Ky’s body shuddered too, and then he whispered my name in my ear as the shudder turned into convulsing that pushed his cock deeper into me, prolonging my climax. “Oh Christ.” I gasped. The flurry of vibrant energy coursing through my veins didn’t dim as Ky held me. Our heavy breathing filled the silent room and he nuzzled my neck, his face buried in my hair. I had no desire to move. I didn’t let the concerns I’d had earlier enter my mind. I’d admitted to myself the difficulty of the situation and the inherent repercussions. I wasn’t inclined to hash them out further, not when I was nestled in a cozy cocoon with Ky. Time, for a little while, stood still.
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Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stay on my cloud forever. Eventually, Ky released me and he shifted on the bed, away from me. “Did I crush you?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh as he shoved a hand through his sexily mussed hair. Rolling onto my hip, I said, “Not at all. I was enjoying all those hard muscles surrounding me and your hands on my body.” He grinned. “You’re irresistible, what can I say?” “So why’d you move?” Another chuckle teased my ears and my senses. He slipped off the bed in a fluid, graceful motion. He headed toward the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t go anywhere.” So he had known. I didn’t move a muscle until he returned. Then I used the restroom and tidied myself up. I returned to the bed and he snuggled next to me, spooning me, his arms around me once again. He’d been right. This was heaven. As though his thoughts ran the same direction as mine did, he asked, “Better than the Seattle Four Seasons?” “This boat is spectacular,” I told him. “The company is even better.” “Ah, so good for my ego.” His voice was warm and dreamy. “Tell me one place you’d visit in Seattle if money wasn’t an object.” “I know just the place,” I said without a second thought. “It’s actually inside the Four Seasons. A chocolate shop called Fran’s. Very upscale, as you can imagine. They had free samples when my mother and I were there. The chocolates were small and perfectly molded—a deliciously wrapped present with a tiny heap of sprinkles on top, piled in the center. It was almost a shame to bite into such a pretty, delicate package,
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but when I did…” I sighed, recalling that very precious moment with my mother when we’d felt spoiled by something as simple as a piece of chocolate. “My God,” I said, as the memory rushed back to me. “The rich dark-chocolate coating was luxurious. The caramel inside was smooth and decadent…and the burst of gray salt—that’s what the sprinkles were—was so unexpected and sensational. I can’t even describe how fantastic and self-indulgent the chocolate was. It was extraordinary, really.” I could almost taste the dynamic combination of the sweet and salty flavor on my tongue. “So you have a sweet tooth?” Ky asked. “Not really. I’d just never tasted something so rich and luscious. Of course, my mother and I were shocked to find a small box cost almost thirty dollars. You can imagine our jaws dropping to the floor over the more elaborate, nearly hundred-andfifty-dollar Japanese Chabako boxes with truffles inside them. The most expensive chocolate we’d ever splurged on was a two-dollar-and-ninety-nine-cent heart-shaped box we bought at a drugstore one Valentine’s Day.” I remember how awestruck we’d been by the chocolate shop, the treats and the prices. “On the bus home, she told me the day I should consider myself successful would be the day I walked into Fran’s and bought a big box of chocolates without thinking twice about the cost. Without it putting even the tiniest dent in my budget or making me feel guilty for purchasing something so frivolous and decadent.” Ky was quiet for a few moments, then asked, “You haven’t been back to Seattle since you left?” “No. I’m saving that trip for the day I can afford to take Fran’s to my mother without cringing over the price tag.” “Success comes in a lot of different packages, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice. “Yes, but everyone has something with which to measure it by, right? This is the bar I set for myself.” 44
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“Hmm. Ever consider you might be selling your accomplishments short?” “No,” I was quick to say. “I want my mom to have more. Remember I told you how ashamed she was that she couldn’t provide for me in the way she wanted? I think every mother must feel that way when they can’t give their kids the stars and the moon. I hadn’t wanted those things for myself back then, but I want them for her. She’s so devoted and full of love.” Tears stung my eyes as I thought of my mom, a very warm and compassionate woman. “She hasn’t been on a single date since my dad died. She could never love anyone else. Her loyalty is still to him and, as much as I wish she’d find a happier romantic ending, I can at least appreciate and respect the fact she loved him so much, she can’t love anyone else in the same way. Doesn’t even want to, really.” “That’s one hell of a commitment.” “Yes. But I guess when you find your soul mate, there’s no substitute.” He kissed my shoulder, but didn’t seem to have anything to add to my assumption. He held me tightly and I reveled in the comforting embrace. It chased away my tears. Finally, he said, “I have to be up early, but you can sleep in. No one will bother you here. The trucks are off the line at eight and will run for several hours.” “I’m excited to see the race,” I told him. “Now that I know more about the sport, it’s really quite interesting.” “Wait ’til tomorrow. Hundreds of enthusiastic fans amp up the energy level. It’s something to see.” I was looking forward to it. “I’ll be there. Now you should sleep.” “Sweet dreams,” he murmured against my neck. I closed my eyes and kept my previously damning thoughts about what I was doing in his bed out of my head awhile longer. The soft snoring from the hunky man whose chest was pressed to my back and whose tight embrace seemed to assure him I wouldn’t leave in the middle of the night—as much as it reassured me he didn’t want me to go—left me with a comforting feeling. I didn’t want to taint it with negativity, so I
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didn’t think of how detrimental it might be to my heart to drag this out. I played dumb for the night and enjoyed the perfection of the moment.
***** Ky was up before the sun. Literally. His erection pressed against the crevice of my ass and it was yet another titillating sensation to go with all the others he evoked. With a smile teasing my lips, I shifted in his arms as he stirred next to me. A sexy groan from him lit my insides and I asked, “You don’t have a secret stash of condoms somewhere, do you?” “No, damn it,” he said, his sensuous, sleepy tone filled with regret. “I had to scrounge up the first two as it was. Getting laid during a race is usually the last thing on my mind. Hell,” he said as he gave this more thought, “it hasn’t been on my mind for a very, very long time. I’m always working and…” He stared down at me with an easy grin. “You were never around until now.” I lost my breath. God, how bad and wrong was it that I’d finally met a man I felt monumentally attracted to and comfortable with, who said and did all the right things, but who lived in another state and had an entirely different lifestyle than anything I’d ever experienced? He so easily uttered words I hadn’t even known I’d waited with bated breath my entire adult life to hear. Even more evocative was the way he delivered his sweet and sexy sentiments with a genuine tone and a searing look in his beautiful blue eyes. But in the grand scheme of things, he was way out of my reach. “Exactly how much do you enjoy Texas?” I found myself asking. He stared quizzically at me. “What?” “Never mind,” I mumbled. What was I thinking? That he might be so enthralled with me he’d actually relocate for me? I groaned inwardly at how quickly I was putting the cart before the horse. Those amazing orgasms had scrambled my brain. 46
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Despite having gotten ahead of myself for a few minutes, I still wanted him. I lazily skimmed my fingers down his rigid torso until I grazed his cock, making him grunt in that carnal way that drove me wild. I closed my hand around his thick shaft and pumped it with a firm grip. His fingers tangled in my messy hair and he pulled me to him for a scorching kiss. I inched my hand up to the tip of his cock and rubbed it before moving back down to his shaft, and then lower still to cup his balls. I gently rolled and massaged them. In turn, he kissed me more passionately, with that unique mixture of heat and tenderness. I tried not to read between any lines, but I couldn’t deny that he told me how much he wanted me without saying a word. When I broke the kiss and trailed my lips and tongue over his hard chest, down his stomach and to his cock, he gently clasped my shoulders and guided me onto my back. “I don’t have a problem with that, you know,” I told him, wondering if he thought I wasn’t the sort of woman who’d go down on a guy. I normally wasn’t, in truth, but with him, I had the urge to touch and taste him everywhere. And to return the pleasure he gave me. He said, “I can use the adrenaline rush to get me moving this morning. What I can’t do is leave this bed without giving you one more orgasm.” The man certainly had a way with words. “Well, if you insist,” I teased, a mere second before his mouth covered mine again and his hands went to work on my already aroused body. He cupped my breasts and caressed them with his lightly callused hands. The friction on my nipples had them pebbled tight in a heartbeat. Then one hand slipped between my legs and he worked his magic on my clit before easing two fingers deep into my wet pussy. I tore my mouth from his as a moan rushed through my parted lips. He had me barreling quickly toward the ragged edge, knowing all the right buttons to push.
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“I’ve never had an interest in morning sex,” I told him, “but dear God, I wish you had a condom.” He grinned. “This’ll have to suffice.” “A pleasurable compromise,” I muttered as his head bent to my chest and his tongue whisked over a hard nipple. I was deliriously happy this man never seemed to do anything half-assed. As he sucked the taut peak, he withdrew his fingers from me and the pads rubbed my clit with lightning-fast speed and just the right pressure. I gasped at the heat igniting low in my belly and the throbbing in my cunt. My fingers threaded through his hair and my body writhed as my breathy pants filled the suite. He released my nipple and kissed my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, making me even hotter. “I love those sexy sounds you make when you’re turned-on,” he whispered against my throat, his lips brushing over the sensitive flesh. “I love what you’re doing to me,” I said honestly. He knew my body well, but more than that, he knew how to engage my mind and my emotions, giving me little pieces of himself along the way to assure me this had been no tawdry one-night stand. He moved down my body, his lips blazing a trail over my quivering flesh, until he was between my legs. With his fingers still stroking my pussy, his tongue toyed with my clit, first lapping at me, then flicking quickly, making me squirm on the bed. I spread my legs wider and lifted my hips. His fingers pumped faster inside me and his tongue teased me into a sexual frenzy that was downright decadent and highly arousing. “Oh Christ.” I moaned as the sensations built within me and erupted. “Ky! Oh God, yes!” He dropped light kisses on my belly as I came.
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Several glorious moments passed and my body still thrummed with an exciting energy. When I caught my breath, I said, “You should be given some sort of award for that.” Ky chuckled. Then he slipped from the bed and headed toward the restroom, saying over his shoulder, “Just takes the right chemistry, babe.” He winked at me and my heart skipped a few beats. As he showered, I snuggled under the covers. I honestly didn’t have a coherent thought in my head the entire time as I luxuriated over my sexual and emotional bliss. When he reappeared and dressed in Levi’s and a T-shirt, I thought he was absolutely spectacular and amazingly hunky. I watched him with lids at half-mast as he pulled on a racing jacket with his sponsors’ names embroidered down both sides of the flap, then retrieved another one and laid it at the foot of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress next to me, he said, “Use that jacket today. It’s chilly this morning, and it’ll be dusty in the pits and around the track.” “Not a white-fur environment?” I quipped in my drowsy tone. “Unless you want a hellacious dry-cleaning bill.” “No, thanks. I’m saving up for chocolates, remember?” His head dipped and he kissed me, then added, “The galley’s stocked. Help yourself to breakfast. Enjoy the race and then… Meet at the finish line this afternoon? I might have a great surprise for you—for your article. And I want to see you again tonight.” “I’ll look for the matching jacket.” As if I could miss him in a crowd. Impossible. He snagged another kiss from me, then said, “Wish us luck.” “Good luck.” I watched him go, recalling every delicious thing he’d done to me from the moment I’d met him. And tricking myself into believing one more evening with him wouldn’t lead to the eventual parting of ways being the death of me.
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I drifted off to sleep, but woke around eight thirty, collected my clothes, slipped into Ky’s jacket and walked to my room. The casino was deserted, with everyone at the race. After showering and dressing, then grabbing some fruit at the deli off the hotel lobby, I wandered over to the racing area. Hundreds of fans lined the track and cheered and rallied as cars and trucks came through on their second lap. I watched the vehicles sail over large and small bumps and come down either perfectly aligned with the path carved into the land or dangerously off balance. Some skittered sideways, creating a cloud of dust. Others bounced almost violently as the drivers fought to get the cars under control. A few of the trucks dented their side panels as they launched off berms and slammed into jumps they didn’t clear. One landed on the two driver-side wheels and I gasped as the truck teetered precariously, about to tip over. My heart leapt into my throat as I thought of Ky’s father crashing, the rollover killing both him and his co-driver. But the truck in front of me stabilized and the two tires on the right side hit the track and the vehicle was off, leaving a flurry of dirt in its wake. My heart still pounding, I left the raucous activity and perused the long line of vendors. Spotting one with a sign that hung across the awning above a table, which read Off-Road Rally Magazine, I headed that way. The older gentleman sitting at the table featuring a large spread of back issues stood when he saw my press pass. “Giselle Kemper, Scottdale Live,” I greeted him with a smile and a handshake. “Dan Peters. Nice to meet you.” I eyed the collection of magazines sprawled before me and realized this sport truly was a bona fide and incredibly popular one. “Take some copies with you,” Dan offered. “We’re online too.”
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“Thanks,” I said as I picked up a few. “I’m working on an article for my publisher and these’ll come in handy.” “Let me know if I can answer any questions you have.” “That’s very kind. I appreciate it. I’ve actually been speaking with—” My train of thought instantly jumped the tracks as my gaze landed on an issue at the end of the table, propped up with a special holder. I reached for the magazine, shocked disbelief making my eyes blink numerous times as I stared at the cover—which had Ky’s picture on it. Along with the absolutely breathtaking photo of the man who’d made love to me last night was a headline that screamed at me, making my mind reel. It said, “Two-Time Best Dirt Driver of the Year—Ky Richards.” “Holy shit,” I mumbled. “You okay?” Dan asked, his voice barely registering over the sudden buzz in my head. “Yeah, sure,” I lied. “Do you mind if I take this copy? I know this guy.” “Oh, yeah, that’s Ky. Great guy. Amazing driver. Takes after his old man.” My head whipped in the direction of the racetrack and all I could think was he’s in danger! Ky was in one of those trucks right this very second. Anxiety and panic and fear collided inside me, stealing my breath as much as Ky’s devilishly handsome face on the cover of the magazine did. But then I remembered our conversation about his special roll cage, and I relaxed a little. “Excuse me,” I said to Dan. I took the magazine and walked away. I found an empty picnic table and sat down, my head still spinning. I put Off-Road Rally on the table and flipped to the feature on Ky. There was a fullcolor picture of him with his truck. A black-and-white photo of him in a dress shirt and jeans. A shot of the boat I’d slept on last night, and another of a building with Richards Racing Parts stamped across the top of it.
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Scanning the article as my stomach plummeted to somewhere around my knees, I quickly learned Ky was the sole heir to his family’s multimillion-dollar business and he owned KR Racing, along with the expensive Trophy Truck, boat and helicopter that were part of the team’s conglomerate. I slipped out of my jacket and stared at the back of it, where KR Racing was scrawled across the dark-blue material in a red, edgy print. I’d not made the correlation, likely because I’d had no real reason to assume Ky actually owned the team. He was a wealthy, successful businessman and off-road racer, and I’d told him my mother and I had needed food stamps and that I’d dropped out of school when I was sixteen? I groaned inwardly. I was such a loser. When I’d thought he was a mechanic for the team, I’d believed we were on a more even playing field. That he’d probably understand about where I’d come from and how much of a struggle it had been. I’d confided in him because he’d been easy to talk to, not intimidating…though he certainly was now, what with his millions of dollars and rich-boy toys. I sat at the picnic table for close to two hours, agonizing over how utterly foolish I felt. When a roar of excitement came from the track, I saw a truck cross the finish line. And knew it was Ky’s. That was my surprise—and the bonus for my article. I stayed where I was as the buzz of activity ensued. He’d taken the checkered flag and his fans and team engulfed him with congratulatory hugs and pats on the back I witnessed from my vantage point on a low slope above the track. He signed autographs and let the media take pictures of him as he stood next to his truck. While the insanity continued, he looked around and I knew he was searching for me. Moving away from the crowd, he scanned the area until his gaze finally landed on me. With that soul-stealing smile of his, he dodged the onslaught of people still wanting to congratulate him and joined me at the table. He’d left his helmet with his truck, but
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still wore a blue fire suit with the name of his racing team printed across his chest. He stripped off his gloves and dropped them on the scarred wood. He said, “I was hoping you’d be a little closer to the finish line when I crossed it.” I reached for the magazine I’d pushed aside during my ruminations and countered with, “It’s not like you told me you’d be driving the truck you’d led me to believe you worked on.” “I do work on it. I built the damn thing. Giselle, what’s wrong?” I let out an exasperated sigh as I flipped over the magazine and pointed to the cover. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Really, Ky? ‘Two-Time Best Dirt Driver of the Year’?” He glanced at the book and shook his head, then shrugged a shoulder. “What’s the big deal? I renamed the team and took over driving after my dad died.” I stood and thrust the team jacket at him. I said, “I don’t need a souvenir of my night with you.” A hot flash of tears burned my eyes as I turned away. But Ky was quick to take my arm and whirl me back around. “Hey,” he said as he tossed the jacket on the table. “Who cares about the title or the fact I own the team? That doesn’t make me any different a person today than I was last night. Still the same guy, sweetheart.” “Please, don’t call me that,” I said as I glanced around and found many pairs of eyes on us. Ky didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care that we had an audience. “Okay, I should have told you. But it sounds more like bragging than anything else to me, and the last thing I wanted was to come off as some cocky hot-shot racer. That’s not who I am, but it’s easy to misconstrue the facts. What we talked about yesterday were
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all the things that are important to me. Things I wanted you to know about me. Things that matter in order for us to get to know each other.” “But I told you about my mother,” I said, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I told you about how we lived. And that stupid chocolate story…” I said this under my breath, not wanting to share it with the masses. He let go of me and crossed his arms over his chest. We stared at each other for several tense moments. The bystanders didn’t inch away. We had a captive audience, though they tried to keep from making eye contact. As if that were discreet enough to excuse them from eavesdropping. Finally, I said, “You should have told me.” “Would it have kept you from telling me the things you did last night?” “Yes.” “Then I’m glad I didn’t tell you.” “Ky!” He laughed unexpectedly and threw his arms up in the air. “Are you listening to what we’re fighting over? So I’ve got some family money. Big deal! You’re going to have to get over the fact I have a small fortune if we’re going to be together. Because if things work out between us, babe, that fortune’s yours too.” I gasped. So did a few other people. “I can’t believe you’re even thinking—” “That far ahead?” he interjected. “Why not? Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me you didn’t fall a little bit in love last night? Because I did. More than a little, actually.” I stared at him, dumbfounded and dazed. What was I to say to that? I’d already said so much… So much that made me sound as though I was a complete loser in front of a man who had it all—looks, heart, success and money. I didn’t want him to possess the latter, I realized. I could live with the first three, but not the fourth. It made me feel small and inferior and…so ridiculous.
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I turned to go. “Giselle, come on,” he said on a sharp breath. Over my shoulder, I told him, “I have an article to write.” The crowd parted for me and converged on him, asking for autographs and making it impossible for him to follow me. I walked briskly back to the casino, just barely keeping my tears contained until I shut the door to my hotel room behind me. I packed my bag and checked out early. On the drive home, I focused solely on mentally composing my feature, not thinking of the time I’d spent with Ky. Or how crazy I was about him. Instead of obsessing over my humiliation, I threw myself into my work. I had the article cranked out in two days, spending Monday and Tuesday at home to complete it, since I was so sick to my stomach, I didn’t want to go into the office. By Wednesday, however, my boss, Melodie Hartman, was worried about my absence and I felt compelled to come in so she could see I was okay. Although, that went disastrously. I’d barely set foot in the newsroom and hadn’t even made it to Melodie’s door when Taylor descended upon me. “Holy hell,” she muttered, her voice laced with concern. “What’s wrong with you?” I’d never worn jeans and sneakers into the office. My hair was pulled back in a high, tight ponytail. I hadn’t bothered with makeup—what was the point? Random tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes and I couldn’t control them. I was miserable with a capital M, but what could I do about it except suffer through my personal embarrassment and never-ending desire for Ky? Taking me by the hand, Taylor led me over to my desk. I plopped into my big leather chair and let out a frustrated sigh as Cherish rushed over. “My God, Giselle,” she said. “What happened to you?” This grabbed Claire’s attention and she joined us.
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“What happened to me?” I pulled the internet up on my computer and went to the Off-Road Rally website. A thumbnail of Ky’s issue was posted along the menu bar on the left and I clicked on it. When the full picture came up, I turned the monitor to face the girls. “This is what happened to me.” Claire whistled under her breath. Taylor leaned in for a closer look. Cherish practically swooned. She said, “Now that’s a man I’d get dirty with.” I caught her double entendre and groaned. “Yeah, me too. I slept with him.” Taylor’s gaze snapped to me. Taking in my disheveled, forlorn look, she demanded, “This was consensual, right?” “You think I kidnapped him and forced him to have sex with me?” She smirked at me. I shook my head and let out a hollow laugh. “Please. Do you really think he’d have to force himself on a woman? Look at him, for Christ’s sake. I wanted him the second I heard his voice—I hadn’t even turned around to see how drop-dead gorgeous he is.” “So what’s the problem?” Cherish asked, her eyes narrowing on me. “Not so hot in the sack?” I groaned. “Words cannot describe how amazing he is. And not just sexually. He’s the nicest, most grounded man I’ve ever known. Aside from my father, of course.” That sentiment made me throw my hands up in the air, then drop them to my desk, where I bent my head and buried my face. “Um, I’m confused,” Claire ventured. “Yeah, so what gives?” This from Taylor. “I mean, he’s hot, nice and the sex was amazing. So… What’s up?” “Shit,” Cherish chirped in the delicate voice that went with her very delicate body. “He’s married, isn’t he?” I shook my head without lifting it. 56
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“Bi?” Taylor asked, a cringe in her tone. Another sharp shake of my head. “Unemployed?” Claire ventured. “Well, honey, it doesn’t matter what the bank statements read when you’re in love, right?” This made my body snap to attention. I jumped out of my chair and threw my hands up again. “Yes, it does! I think I’d prefer it if he was unemployed and penniless!” “Oh, now don’t say that,” Taylor warned as the three women stared at me in horror, as though they were afraid to make any sudden movements that might make the nut job lose it completely. “He’s rich,” I told them. “Loaded. A multimillionaire with a yacht and a helicopter and a million-dollar Trophy Truck! And get this—he’s crazy about me! Me!” “Oh, well, sweetie,” Cherish said as she reached for one of my hands and patted it gingerly. “We’re all a bit crazy about you, no need to get worked up. You’ve got a killer sense of fashion and a wicked pen.” “And a very pretty smile,” Claire added in a maternal tone, which had recently developed in conjunction with her impending wedding. “Yeah, so,” Taylor stepped in, “if the two of you are so enamored with each other, what’s the problem?” I knew she and Cherish would understand, even if Ky and Claire couldn’t because of their financial status. “I told him about my mother. About how I was raised. Where I lived. How we lived. I told him I hadn’t even graduated high school and that I buy all my clothes and shoes secondhand.” Tears flooded my eyes again and I was glad I’d skipped the mascara this morning. Taylor and Cherish both gasped. Claire stared at me, befuddled. “I don’t get it,” she said.
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Taylor came instantly to my rescue. “There’s nothing worse than telling a wealthy man you were once on food stamps.” Claire’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that sort of shallow? I mean, on the guy’s part. If he can’t deal with a shocking reality a lot of people face… Is he really worth it?” “I don’t think Ky gives a damn that I don’t have money,” I explained. “Everything I told him, he understood and accepted. He didn’t pass judgment, nor did he throw his upper echelon status in my face.” “So, again…what’s the problem?” Claire asked, genuinely confused, by the look of her. “It’s just not something you really want to admit to the man of your dreams,” I told her. She quickly countered with, “Then how will he ever get to know you, Giselle?” I turned away. “That’s exactly what he said.” I splayed my palms against the brick wall and mocked banging my head against it. “The thing is, when you meet someone as fantastic as Ky, you want to be perfect for him. You know, not have all this dead weight you’re carrying around.” Claire placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “The dead weight is what makes you who you are. Yes, you can cut it loose when the time’s right, but until then… It’s learning from your past and getting over it that shapes who you ultimately become. And something tells me this person saw exactly who you are and he’s happy with what he sees. Just like the rest of us when it comes to you.” The tears ran much faster and I had to fight back actual sobs. Claire said, “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Giselle. In fact, now that I know about your past, I respect you even more for what you’ve accomplished and who you’ve become. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.”
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Her hand on my shoulder made me turn back to my friends. And to one tall and devastatingly handsome man. I bit back another sob when I saw Ky, standing with Taylor and Cherish, that lazy grin I loved on his face. I swiped at the tears rolling down my flushed cheeks as I asked, “What are you doing here?” He didn’t get the chance to answer, because Taylor swooped in. “Nice to meet you, Ky. I’m Taylor.” “Cherish,” said my other friend. “Claire,” echoed my third gal pal. “Nice to meet you all.” His smile was genuine, as was the look in his eyes. “Well, we have work to do,” Claire said as she shooed the others away and they melted into the background. I stared at Ky, shocked to see him in front of my desk. “Seriously, why are you here?” “Because when I try to rationalize why you were so upset at the race, it doesn’t compute.” He stood with his hands behind his back in an unassuming stance. He wore a white dress shirt with black jeans. Sexy, yet still casual. My stomach rioted with a dozen different emotions I couldn’t reconcile. Excitement. Fear. Arousal. Humiliation. I had no idea how to get a grip on them, or my thundering heart. “Look, it’s just—” “You told your friends you want to be perfect for me,” he interjected. “I heard that when I walked in. The thing is, you are perfect for me. In every way.” I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the prickle again as the drops threatened to pool. Ky said, “Claire was right. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. In fact, you should be damn proud of yourself, Giselle. For who you’ve become.” I shook my head slowly as I opened my eyes. “I haven’t done anything.” 59
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“No?” One hand moved from behind his back and he placed a shopping bag on my desk. It was delicate and sophisticated, with Fran’s embossed across the front. I buried my face in my hands as emotion washed over me. I groaned and said, “You went to Seattle to buy me chocolates?” He so didn’t get me! I was shocked, really. Deep down, I’d thought he’d understood, on some level, what I’d said about my past. Staring up at him, I told him, “You missed the whole point of my story.” His grin was slow and easy. “No, I didn’t. I had them FedEx me the gift bag. Look inside.” Skeptical, I stepped closer to the desk and peered inside the bag. A back issue of Scottsdale Live rested against one interior wall. I frowned, perplexed. Ky said, “Look at all the things you’ve achieved. You came from nothing and made something of yourself, without compromising your principles and beliefs. You dress impeccably—” “It’s all secondhand, I told you that.” “So what? You enjoy your clothes and you look great in them. Who cares if someone owned them before you? You make the style your own. And for a girl who dropped out of high school to now be getting her master’s degree… Jesus, isn’t that something?” “I made a promise to Melodie.” “And you’re doing it for yourself. To better yourself. That’s amazing, Giselle. Hell, you’re more successful than I am.” I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, yeah. I can totally see that.” He smirked at me. “Think about it. I was given a company to run. I was born into money and that’s how I can afford a race team and a bunch of toys. I didn’t have to get my master’s degree. A bachelor’s is good enough when you’re the sole heir to an 60
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empire. My mother wanted nothing to do with the business or anything associated with racing. She took a lump sum of cash and off she went, leaving me with everything else.” I resisted the urge to grind my teeth. “You’re on the cover of a magazine.” He yanked Scottsdale Live from the chocolate bag and thrust it at me. “You’re in a magazine. Every month!” I opened my mouth, thinking I had some sort of contestable retort, but he gave me a challenging look and I suddenly grasped what he was saying to me. What he was trying to make me see. But I needed him to see something in return. “I liked who we were at the race,” I told him. “We were comfortable with each other, without any airs or pretense. I haven’t had that since I moved here. I’ve dated…all the wrong men. Ones who expect me to look and act a certain way. To always say the right thing and know which fork to use. I always felt put on the spot, you know? And then I met you, and I wanted to tell you all the things I’d kept inside. I wanted to feel all the wonderful things I’ve waited my entire adult life to feel.” “Tired of being someone you’re not?” he asked in a low voice. I nodded. “Yes. The clothes and shoes are nice, but I’d forgotten how much I missed tennis shoes,” I said as I lifted a foot to show him mine. “Well, darlin’,” he said with a smile, “this is about as dressed up as I prefer to get. I’ll wear a suit or a tux for you, if you ask me to, but I like my jeans.” “I like you in your jeans too,” I admitted. “And out of them.” He chuckled. Then he came around the corner of my desk and sat on the edge of it. In a serious tone, he said, “There are a few concessions I can’t make for you.” I eyed him curiously, wondering what the deal breakers were, and hoping with all my heart they were insignificant. Because he’d been right the other day. I had fallen a bit in love with him that night we made love. More so since he’d arrived at my office. “Such as?” I ventured with bated breath.
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“Well, for one,” he said in his sexy Southern drawl. “I’m not givin’ up the boat.” I laughed, my heart lightening instantly. “How can I argue with that? It has sentimental value to me.” “Good. I’m partial to the helicopter and the truck too.” “Part of your racing team. I can certainly live with those things.” “And this?” he asked as he flipped open the issue of Scottsdale Live he’d taken from the gift bag. He handed over an envelope tucked between two pages and I couldn’t even begin to fathom what was inside. I folded back the flap and found an airline boarding pass inside. My gaze flashed to his as his grin widened. “This is a ticket to Seattle,” I said on a sharp breath. “Yes. First class. Sorry, but my legs are too long for coach.” I shook my head. He was just too much. Which prompted me to ask, “What else?” Because I could tell from that now familiar wicked glint in his sky-blue eyes that he had more up his sleeve. “Well, don’t get angry, but I did book us a suite at the Four Seasons. Booked one for your mom too.” Tears sprang to my eyes again. “That’s just…way over the top.” “Yeah, well,” he said as he took my hand and pulled me to him, so I stood between his parted legs. “That’s just something you’re going to have to get used to about me. If you love me, you have to love all the crazy things I do.” This time, I nodded as the drops crested the rims of my eyes. “I can accept that.” “And you can believe that your past doesn’t bother me? That it makes me respect you even more for forging your own path and moving away from everything you knew and loved in order to make a better life for you and your mom?” Again, I nodded. “You wouldn’t be here if that weren’t true.” 62
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“No, I wouldn’t, darlin’.” He pulled me closer to him and kissed me in that tender yet exciting way that made my heart melt at the same time it sent my pulse racing. When he finally broke the kiss, he whispered, “We’ve got a few hours to kill before our flight.” I grinned as he brushed the rest of the tears from my cheeks. “My article is done and with the copy editor. I’m free for the rest of the afternoon.” He hopped off my desk and took my hand after I put my boarding pass in my bag and slung the strap over my shoulder. We said goodbye to the girls and left the building. In typical Ky fashion, however, what awaited us at the curb wasn’t a taxi. It was a stretch Hummer limo. With a laugh, I said, “You can’t do anything normal, can you?” “But you love me anyway, right?” The sparkle in his eyes aside, I knew he was baiting me. It occurred to me that everything he’d done was the equivalent of putting his own pride on the line to chase after a girl who’d thought she wasn’t good enough for him. How ironic. So after we climbed into the backseat and the driver shut the door, I said, “Yes, I do love you. And I really like the feeling.” He nodded as he poured a glass of champagne for each of us. “Yeah, I’m enjoying it too.” We touched the rims of our glasses and sipped. But another thought struck me and I said, “This is all very sweet, what you’re doing for me and for my mother. But what about yours?” He eyed me quizzically. “What do you mean?” “Are you just going to let her put an ocean between the two of you? I mean, I understand how it feels to lose someone you love. Especially a romantic love—your spouse, even. My mother was devastated and as I said, she hasn’t dated and would 63
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never consider marrying again. I feel bad about that, but at least she and I have a relationship.” Ky was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “My mom won’t date either. She was crushed when she lost my dad. Worse, I think she felt it in her bones that his truck would be the death of him. But it was what he loved, so she never put her foot down. I think she feels guilty about that. I think she wishes she’d insisted he not race.” I had to consider this myself—its impact on me and our budding relationship—and posed a very important question. “You’re confident in your new roll cage?” He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s been tested, sweetheart. I’m not going to get hurt in that truck. At least, not in a rollover.” A cautionary tale. I got it. There were other dangers involved. He followed this up by saying, “You know the adage—I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. At least if something happens to me in my truck… Well I know that’s how my dad would have wanted to go and I feel the same way.” “Which is why you didn’t stop racing after he died tragically.” “I told you I wished I’d had the cage done before that day. But the truth is, when racing is in your blood—and it has been for me for four generations—you’d rather die from accidentally taking a wrong turn off a cliff than of, say…pneumonia.” I had to weigh that logic as we drove to my apartment. What I discovered as I ruminated over the possibility of losing someone I loved in a racing accident was enlightening to me, because it was based off something Ky had said about his mother. “She didn’t put her foot down and say your dad couldn’t race. Would he have given it up for her?” He stared at me a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. But she knew he wouldn’t be the same person. That exciting, run-on-the-ragged-edge type of man who attracted her in the first place.”
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I could understand this. But I needed just a bit more. “I think you should invite her to your next race. I’d like to meet her and I think she should see you drive, Ky. My guess is, a part of your dad lives on because you race, and your mother just might embrace that, given your new roll cage. The safety precautions you’re taking should help to put her at ease.” “It’d be nice for her to see, firsthand, what I’ve done. She’d feel much more comfortable about me racing.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You should as well.” “I trust you.” Besides, everything he’d said was true. He’d done his best to control and safeguard his racing environment. But no one really had absolute control over their destiny. The Hummer we were currently riding in could wreck. Our plane to Seattle could crash. That wasn’t a pessimistic viewpoint, it was a reality check. Ky could race for the next forty years and never injure himself. I could get cancer tomorrow, similar to my dad. “Do what you love,” I told him as I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I can accept that about you.” Lord knew he had no qualms over my life. However, I did add, “But find some way to bridge the distance with your mom. You won’t forgive yourself if something happens to her before the two of you have a chance to reconnect. And vice versa.” He nodded as he set aside our glasses. Then he gathered me close to him and said, “Do you know that you continue to amaze me?” I didn’t know what to say to that. I gazed up at him, thinking I was—hands down— the luckiest girl in the world. Not because I’d landed a rich guy. Because I’d fallen in love with the right guy. A man who had boyish fun on the racetrack, while taking the safety of himself and his competitors seriously. A man who ran a successful business. A man who didn’t want anyone, especially me, to think of him as a hotshot daredevil or playboy.
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He was a million wonderful things all wrapped up in one gorgeous, sensuous package I very much wanted to undress. So when the Hummer arrived in front of my modest apartment complex, I said, “Why don’t you send the driver away for a while? I think we’re going to need extra time to…pack…before we leave for the airport.” Ky grinned as his head dipped. He kissed me again and I instantly went into sensory overload. I was still feeling emotionally charged from our reunion, and his very slow, sexy kiss charged me sexually. I was eternally grateful he’d not found anything unsavory about my past, and that he’d felt as strongly connected to me as I was to him. Enough so that he’d come to Scottsdale to prove how much he wanted me. Not just in his bed, but in his life. When he pulled away, I was breathless. “You really should learn how to kiss a girl,” I teased as I fanned myself with my hand. “I’m not kissing a girl, darlin’.” He winked at me. Then he helped me out of the limo when the driver opened the door. We walked hand in hand to the foot of the steps that led to my second-floor unit. There, he stopped and asked, “Did you want me to consider moving here when we were together on my boat?” I remembered asking him if he enjoyed Texas and prematurely wondering if he’d relocate for me. But that was the furthest thing from my mind now. “No, I don’t want you to relocate. However, if you asked me to…” I shrugged a shoulder and bit back a grin. “I do want you to,” he was quick to say. “Not just for me. Well, okay, yes for me. But for you as well. I think you’d like Austin.” “I’m willing to give it a try. Scottsdale never grew on me.”
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“In that case, I have to tell you that Dan Peters from Off-Road Rally thinks you’d be a great addition to his magazine, if you decide to follow me around to all my races.” “A job offer?” I asked, shocked. Ky nodded. “He’s the publisher. He checked out your articles online and thinks you’re pretty talented.” “Wow, that’s…so cool. I could totally go for that.” I was now a fan of the sport after all. And it’d be just one more thing that strengthened my connection to Ky. He kissed me again, and I knew as long as I stopped obsessing over my past, I’d have a very bright future ahead of me.
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Epilogue As it turned out, I ended up with the best of both worlds when it came to my career. Melodie asked me to stay on at the magazine as a correspondent who wrote a monthly column on the places I visited with Ky. There were plenty of interesting hot spots around the racing locations, and it was fun to explore them while Ky was working on the truck or attending contingency. Then I’d catch up on the happenings at the race and be there to see him win—and cover the entire adventure for Off-Road Rally. One balmy spring day, only a few months after we’d met, I settled into a chaise lounge chair with Ky on one side of me and our mothers on the other side. We sipped margaritas and watched a spectacular Mexican sunset from the private patio of the condo Ky had rented for a race in Puerto Penasco, an hour or so from the Arizona border. “Congratulations on another win,” his mom said, her pride evident in her tone. She’d hedged on attending this race, but Ky had kept at her for weeks and she’d eventually caved. “I’m glad you came,” he told her. My head rolled on the thick cushion to look at her as I added, “He really is a persistent sucker, isn’t he?” She smiled at me. “Yes. Very much like his father.” I recognized the flash of pain in her eyes. I’d seen it plenty of times in my own mother’s eyes, and in Ky’s. I suspected they all saw the same emotion in mine too, when we talked about my dad. But the flicker of agony vanished and she continued. “I think he’s actually a better driver than John was, which is really saying something.” 68
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“I was certainly impressed,” my mom said, from one chair over. “This whole weekend has been a treat. Thank you all so much. I’ve never had so much fun…nor have I ever seen such a beautiful sunset.” She’d been as hesitant as Ky’s mom to come to Mexico, though for different reasons. As had been the case when Ky had whisked my mother off to the Four Seasons with me still in awe of his generosity and good intentions, she had insisted she’d never done anything to deserve this kind of self-indulgence. Ky had assured her she had—by raising me so well. He never failed to tug on my heartstrings or catch me off guard with his fabulous ideas. But I was the one with the surprise this evening. I rummaged around in the tote bag next to my chair and pulled out a box of truffles I’d bought at Fran’s. I had two jobs now, and I was working on a novel—purely for the enjoyment of it. Whether it was ever published or not, I at least had to give myself credit for the work I was putting into it and for the fact that I was doing it because I loved writing, not because I was desperate to sell it in order to cover my bills. I had that well under control with my dual income. As I passed around the decadent chocolates, Ky said, “While the four of us getting together is certainly a cause to celebrate with ridiculously expensive candy, I think we could make it an even more memorable occasion.” I eyed him curiously as he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and extracted a ring. A stunning masterpiece that made the sweet and salty taste of the chocolate bursting in my mouth all the more thrilling as excitement shot through me and my toes curled in the sandals I’d ordered off eBay a week and a half ago. With his devilish smile, Ky handed over the ring. He swung his long legs over the side of his chair to face me as our mothers sprang from their loungers and gathered around.
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He said, “I had it designed for you. It’s one of a kind. Never owned or worn by anyone else.” Tears instantly filled my eyes. The cushion-cut diamond sparkled brilliantly under the soft glow of the patio lights and the intricate platinum setting was polished to a high sheen. “It’s breathtaking,” I whispered as fat drops rolled down my cheeks. “I’d hoped you’d like it,” he told me. “I love it.” He shifted off his lounge chair and knelt in front of me. Taking my hand in his, he asked, “Will you marry me, Giselle?” Oh my God. How had I, of all people, become Cinderella? With a nod, I said, “I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.” And I suddenly understood, to the depths of my soul, why our mothers chose to live alone, rather than find someone else. For me, no one but Ky would ever own my heart. He took the ring from me and slid it onto my finger as the two women standing beside us clapped their hands and then hugged each other. They’d not only formed an instant friendship when they’d met, but we’d all become a family. I officially had all the things I’d never dared hope for, but which meant the world to me. I didn’t care about the money—I cared about the people surrounding me. And though I would proudly show off the gorgeous rock on my finger, I’d still shop eBay. “I love you,” Ky said as he held me tight. “You continue to amaze me,” I told him. “And I love you with all my heart.” Not only had I become a fan of off-road racing, I was now a firm believer in fairytales and happy ever afters.
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About the Author Multi-published and award-winning author Ava McKnight’s love of romantic fiction began as a teenager. She holds degrees in General Studies and Communications and has worked on newspapers as an editor and reporter. Most recently, she worked in PR, writing speeches and Congressional testimonies. Ava is a member of Romance Writers of America and one of its Phoenix chapters, Desert Rose. She has served as a Board member, Newsletter Director, National Contest Chairperson and Arbitration Co-Chair. She is also published in romantic fiction as Calista Fox.
Ava welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Ava McKnight All for Shayla Island Fantasy Jordan Tamed One Spark Right Moves Satisfying Sophie Scandalous Vaughn’s Bidding Worth the Wait
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Pure Pleasure ISBN 9781419940873 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Pure Pleasure Copyright © 2012 Ava McKnight Edited by Briana St. James Photography by fotolia.com Electronic book publication June 2012 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. 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. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party websites or their content.
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