Leslie Kelly - Naturally Naughty

Jack held out his hands. “You said you weren’t married.”

“What if I were engaged? Or a nun? Or what if I didn’t like men?”

“Engaged isn’t married, so I’d say tough luck to the guy.” Grinning, he continued. “You as a nun would be a crime against nature, definitely worth ignoring.” He glanced down at her, his stare taking in her hardened nipples and her trembling legs. The musky scent of aroused woman teased his nostrils. “And not liking men isn’t in the realm of possibility,” Jack finally said smoothly. “You want me pretty badly.”

Her jaw dropped and he tipped it back up with the tip of his finger. “Now, for introductions. I’m Jack. It’s very nice to meet you. And you are…?”

She ignored his question. “You followed me.”

He didn’t try to deny it. “Guilty as charged.”

That stopped her. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Fate? Instinct?” Then he lowered his voice, whispering into her ear as he leaned in closer, aligning his body with hers. “Or maybe so I could see what color eyes my children are going to have.”

Dear Reader,

When the new Blaze line launched last year, I knew I wanted to be a part of it. Anyone who’s read the stories I write for Temptation know I have no problem turning up the heat. But whenever I sat down to work up a story, I had trouble coming up with the right premise. My critique partner, Jill Shalvis, was having the same problem. But with the encouragement of our wonderful editors at Harlequin, we put our heads together and came up with the outrageous stories of two cousins who want to wreak a little havoc by opening a sex shop in their old hometown. Throw in a little sexual revenge, and the BARE ESSENTIALS miniseries was born.

I loved working on this project with Jill. It challenged me as a writer to work with another author’s characters and story line. I’d also like to say a special thank-you to Harlequin for allowing us to be a part of this trend of simultaneously released books in a miniseries. So look for Jill’s book, Naughty But Nice , out right now.

I love to hear from my readers. Please write to me at P.O. Box 410787, Melborne, FL 32941–0787, or drop me an e-mail through my Web site www.lesliekelly.com. And don’t forget to check out tryblaze.com.

Happy (and hot!) reading,

Leslie Kelly

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To Jill Shalvis—

a great critique partner, an even greater friend.

Thanks for always being there.

And, as always, to Bruce.

Thanks for the Christmas gifts/tax write-offs.

Research has never been more fun.

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

Epilogue

Ten Years Ago

H OLDING HER PINK taffeta dress up to her knees, Kate Jones trudged toward home wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. Live burial seemed better than spending one more night in Pleasantville, Ohio. Her cousin’s favorite expression came to mind— This town’s about as pleasant as a yeast infection .

Without a doubt, this evening would have a place on Kate’s list of all-time worst experiences. No, it wasn’t nearly as bad as when her dad had died, or when her mom had brought her here to live, a town where their family was treated like dirt. In terms of teenage experiences, however, tonight was bad. Kate had been resoundingly dumped. On prom night no less.

You should have stayed , a voice whispered in her brain.

Kate snorted. “Stayed? After being jilted by Darren for Angela Winfield, wickedest witch on earth? Right!”

Cassie wouldn’t have run away . No, her cousin would have popped Angela one, kicked Darren where it counted, and told them to stick it where the sun didn’t shine. Too bad she’d left early.

She passed another dark house. Its inhabitants were probably cozy in their beds, reflecting on their pleasant days. They wouldn’t think twice about her trudging in the street. Who’d expect anything else from a trashy Tremaine? Her last name might be Jones, but no one let her forget her mother’s maiden name. In spite of being a straight-A student who’d never gotten into any real trouble, people here believed Kate must have hit every no-good branch on her way down the Tremaine family tree.

Turning off Petunia onto Pansy Lane, Kate grimaced for the half-millionth time at the dumb street names. I’d love a giant bottle of Weed-B-Gone . She could think of a creeping pest she’d like to zap. Darren.

“Darren’s a conceited jerk.” Kate knew she shouldn’t have gone with him, especially since his mother hated her. But just for one night she’d wanted to be part of the in crowd. She’d wanted to be cool and popular, instead of the nice, quiet girl who tried to disguise her family’s poverty by getting good grades and working harder than anyone ever expected.

Tonight at the prom Angela had pawed all over Darren, urging him to ditch Kate and leave with her instead. The whole school knew Angela put out. And despite being a trashy Tremaine, Kate did not. Hmm, such a tough choice for Darren—Angela the tramp from the most respected family in town? Or Kate the pure, from the trashiest one? What was a horny eighteen-year-old boy to do?

He’d left so fast Kate’s head had spun.

Kate was nearly home when the rain started. “What did I do to deserve this?” she said as drops hit her face. She was long past the point of caring about her panty hose. Nor did she worry about her makeup smearing—her tears had accomplished that.

The rain was just one more insult in a rotten night.

Spying her family’s duplex, she prayed her mother was asleep, and Cassie home in the adjoining unit where she and Aunt Flo lived. If Cassie was home, Kate would knock on her bedroom wall, which butted right against Cassie’s in the next unit. They’d communicated by knocking on it since they were little girls. She’d signal her to sneak out back for one of their late-night gab sessions and fill her in about her lousy prom night.

Then she noticed a parked car out front. When her mother emerged from it, Kate wondered who Edie could have been out with so late. As a man exited she said, “Mayor Winfield?”

Yes, Angela’s father. Rich, jolly John Winfield who kept her mother busy cleaning his fancy house on Lilac Hill. Once again the mayor thought nothing of working Edie late in the night, as if she didn’t already spend forty hours a week scrubbing other people’s toilets. Kate raised a brow as the mayor played gentleman and walked her mother to the door.

Walk away , her inner voice said. But she couldn’t. Moving closer, she’d reached the steps when they began to kiss.