Kristin Hardy - Turn Me On

“Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like, Stefan?” she whispered feverishly, reaching down for his zipper. “Don’t you wonder how it would be to watch it, to feel it? I do,” she breathed. “I do and I want you. Now.”

The words snapped the thin thread of control holding him and he backed her up against the nearest wall of the club. When her fingers pulled him out, it tore a groan from him. He kissed her lips, her eyes, then he twined his fingers through her hair and tugged her head back to feast on her neck. More, he thought, and he slid up her short skirt to find only skin, only her, slick, swollen and ready.

“Sabrina,” he breathed, and it took everything he had to keep himself from letting go…not until his fingers were on her, not until he was in her, not until he felt her come.

The huge TV screen suspended above the bar, constantly flashed pImages** of the room. One man sent a woman writhing with every stroke of his tongue. On the dance floor, a couple discreetly fondled each other.

And in the corner, Sabrina, wrapped around Stef, impaled on him, braced against the wall, released a shuddering cry.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to my new trilogy, SEX & THE SUPPER CLUB. Sabrina, Kelly, Trish, Cilla, Paige, Thea and Delaney met during college when they were all working on a drama production. The bonds they formed were strong, and even as the years have passed they’ve remained entwined in each other’s lives through the weekly dinners of the Sex & the Supper Club. Over the course of coming books, you’ll get to know them and watch them one by one conquer the challenges in their lives and find true love.

I grew up in the L.A. area, while my sister still lives there. We’ve done a lot of hard work scouting locations—you should see how we suffered having to go to all these wonderful restaurants, hip bars and other hot spots. The things I do for love…. Speaking of which, I hope you enjoy reading Stef and Sabrina’s love story. Drop me a line at kristin@kristinhardy.com and tell me what you think. Or visit my Web site at www.kristinhardy.com for contests, recipes and updates on my recent and upcoming releases.

Have fun,

Kristin Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Gretchen,

who runs with a fast crowd,

and to Stephen,

always and forever.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Big Drama Behind the Scenes

Kelly Vandervere, staff writer

Daily Californian

When it comes to drama, the play’s the thing. It’s not just about acting, though. If it weren’t for a crew of dedicated behind-the-scenes volunteers, the drama department’s spring 1996 production of Shakespeare’s Henry V would never see the light of day.

Dialogue is key, which is why Trish Dawson and her collaborators from the English deaprtment have spent many hours trimming the script to fit a two-hour college production. It’s not all words, though. Henry V also includes dramatic battle scenes choreographed by dance major Thea Mitchell.

And the production has to look right. Design major Cilla Danforth supervises wardrobe, coming up with authentic-looking period costumes from the drama department’s archives. Paige Wheeler, also from the design department, complements Danforth’s work with gorgeous set decoration that evokes the medieval era.

Of course, all that hard work wouldn’t mean anything without the clever marketing campaign of business major Delaney Phillips. And to make sure the production is recorded for posterity, film major Sabrina Pantolini is capturing it in a video documentary.

So when you’re in your seats tonight enjoying the premiere of the production, applaud the actors but don’t forget to clap a few times for all the other folks who make the magic happen.

“WHAT I WANT FROM YOU, honey, is sex.” Royce Schuyler, the Home Cinema vice president of programming, stared across the restaurant table to where Sabrina Pantolini sat—poised, sleek and dark like a silky cat. “You give me that, and everything else will follow.”

“Royce, honey, I’ll give you the best sex you’ve ever had.” Sabrina smiled, her eyes ripe with promise and fun. A golden topaz hung winking from a gold chain around her neck. “This documentary series is going to have people stopping to take cold showers.”

“Swingers are old hat. Don’t give me swingers.”

Sabrina snorted and pushed her short, dark hair back behind her ears. “Forget swingers. That’s practically pedestrian. I’m talking about blow job tutors, exhibitionist hotels, you name it. It’s perfect for cable—all the stuff that the networks would never have the nerve to touch, and you guys will be putting it right in the late-night living rooms of Middle America.”

“With a guarantee like that, I’m looking forward to the pilot.”

“Great. Does that mean you’re ready to sign on for it?” Her goat cheese and heirloom tomato salad sat in front of her, forgotten.

Royce shook his head and scanned the restaurant with a practiced eye. “Not yet. I want to see what you’ve got when you finish the pilot.”

“I need working capital, Royce.”

“I’m sure you do, but I can’t give it to you.” He took a drink of his seltzer water. “Right now, you’ve got no track record and no staff on board.”

Sabrina suppressed a surge of annoyance. The money she was asking for was chump change for a cable network like Home Cinema and Schuyler knew it. On the other hand, she was fortunate he was even here talking to her. If she’d been anyone else, she’d have been lucky to meet some mid-level flunky in the city offices. Instead, she was here talking with Home Cinema’s vice president of programming in a see-and-be-seen restaurant.

She had no illusions about why she was getting the VIP treatment. Her father, Michael Pantolini, had been the kind of director people talked about in hushed whispers. Even five years after his death in an auto accident, Sabrina was still connected to the Hollywood power structure through her producer uncle, her action-star cousin and her set-designer mother. Sabrina was Hollywood royalty, but if it gave her some small edge, it also made her chafe.

“I can make a better pilot if I have Home Cinema behind me,” she said in a slightly bored voice, waving across the room to an actress she knew slightly.

“Find a way to make a hot pilot on your own. That’s the mark of a good producer. Bring it to me and we’ll talk.” Royce took a sip of his drink. “Hey, isn’t that your cousin who just came in?”