Kira Sinclair - Captivate Me

Your Exclusive Invitation…

Join us for the most sinful & decadent event of Mardi Gras—the Bacchanalia Ball. Entrez…

Tonight, a masked man escapes the revelry and glimpses a breathtaking woman undressing in the window below. A naughty show—for him. Desire sparks between them…until the blinds come down.

Software developer Alyssa Vaughn has reason to hate damnably hot nightclub owner Beckett Kayne. Mostly because he’s trying to put her out of business. But Beckett has a secret he’s keeping from her. By day they’re rivals. By night, he dons a mask and brings her most wicked fantasies to life. Until the Bacchanalia Ball, when Alyssa puts on her own mask…and his comes off!

“Touch me.”

“Now? Here? Where anyone and everyone could see?”

Swallowing hard, Alyssa nodded. She didn’t care. Was far beyond that point. Everyone acted crazy during Mardi Gras, she rationalized.

A tortured growl rumbled through the stranger’s chest. The echo of it vibrated across her own skin.

Pouring every ounce of need into the connection, she met his devouring kiss and matched him. She wasn’t content to simply acquiesce, but demanded a piece of him. Her teeth scraped across his bottom lip. Her tongue darted in to get a better taste.

Until he stopped, and pulled back.

“Last night I went home frustrated that you’d teased me, turned me on and then shut me out. Tonight it’s my turn to walk away.”

It hadn’t just been a figment of her tired, deprived, overactive imagination.

“Unlike last night, I won’t torture you with the possibility we might never finish what we started. Let me assure you…we will.”

Dear Reader,

The concept for Captivate Me came to me while I was listening to a fabulous Halestorm song. The idea of being invisible and ignored intrigued me…. Well, more the idea of finally being seen! We all want to be seen—to be important and wanted. After years of living in the shadows, that’s exactly what Alyssa gets from Beckett. And what better time to lose her inhibitions and explore her inner vixen than the steamy days and sultry nights of Mardi Gras!

Beckett, on the other hand, prefers to stay behind the scenes, watching others let loose in his nightclubs. He’s tired and a bit cynical, but when he catches sight of a beautiful stranger undressing in her window, he’s intrigued. Alyssa surprises him, and for the first time in a long while makes him want to be a little bit wild—with her!

I hope you enjoy Beckett and Alyssa’s story! I’d love to hear from you at kira@kirasinclair.com, or stop by and visit me on Facebook and Twitter.

Best wishes,

Kira

Captivate Me

Kira Sinclair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kira Sinclair is an award-winning author who writes emotional, passionate contemporary romances. Double winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, her first foray into writing fiction was for a high-school English assignment. Nothing could dampen her enthusiasm…not even being forced to read the love story aloud to the class. However, it definitely made her blush. Writing about striking, sexy heroes and passionate, determined women has always excited her. She lives out her own happily-ever-after with her amazing husband, their two beautiful daughters and a menagerie of animals on a small farm in North Alabama. Kira loves to hear from readers at www.kirasinclair.com.

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I’d like to dedicate this book to a group of people who have meant everything to me. I wouldn’t be here without you guys. Thank you to everyone in Heart of Dixie for your support, encouragement and, of course, drinks at conference.

Contents

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

Extract

Endpage

1

A PERFECT BLEND of the absurd and obscene. That described the French Quarter during Mardi Gras. Scantily clad women strolling beside men in cat costumes and stilts, all while evangelists screamed about the perils of sin.

Excess. Excitement. And that ever-present air of danger...because just about anything could—and did—happen.

Strangers rubbing against strangers because that was the only way through the wall-to-wall humanity. Heat and hedonism. Music, loud voices and raised laughter filling every available inch of space.

All around him, the party raged. But Beckett Kayne didn’t care.

Leaning against the railing, he watched dispassionately as the crowd beneath the balcony swelled. Beside him Mason Westbrook, his best friend since childhood, held out several blinking LED necklaces. Shaking them enticingly, he yelled something crude.

Two women, wearing short, flared skirts and bustiers, giggled up at them with glassy-eyed interest. They clung together, no doubt keeping each other from falling flat on their wasted asses.

“You know what you have to do to get ’em,” Mason taunted.

One of the women—and Beckett used the term loosely, because if they were a day over twenty-one he’d be damn surprised—shook her head slowly. Considering he owned a series of nightclubs scattered in major cities across the United States, he’d gotten pretty talented at spotting minors.

The brunette pouted. “We can’t.” Tugging at the edge of her top, she yelled, “It’s too tight.”

Mason simply grinned, his teeth flashing white through the dark night. “Then show me something else.”

Moments like these, Beckett wondered why the hell he’d kept Mason in his life past the bonding years of their uninhibited carousing. Yes, there was a time when he would have been beside his friend, trying to coax the coeds into showing what the good Lord gave them.

But at thirty-two he was getting too old for this shit. Certainly too old for the doe-eyed girls on the street.

With a sense of disgust and inevitability, Beckett watched their heads go together as they whispered to each other, cutting quick glances up. After several moments they spun around. Beckett really hoped they were leaving but knew they probably weren’t.

Instead, he watched them bend at the waist and flip up the edges of their skirts to show their practically naked rears.

Mason let out a wolf whistle and rained necklaces, gold coins and a handful of cheap trinkets down onto the street at their feet.

Tonight, the uncontrolled excess seriously bothered Beckett. Or maybe that was just the bad mood he’d been fighting for the past few weeks. He was getting jaded.

Instead of growling something at Mason he’d most likely regret later, Beckett raised his glass and pulled a healthy swallow of expensive scotch into his mouth. It was smooth, and the welcome fire burning down his throat beat back the words threatening to break free.

He didn’t want to be here. Had tried to tell Mason he’d be bad company, but his friend had guilted him into coming anyway. A private balcony party the Friday before Fat Tuesday, thrown by one of the partners in his firm, wasn’t something to be missed.