Stefanie London - A Dangerously Sexy Secret

Can you at least stay upright for the next three minutes so you don’t embarrass yourself? You’re walking like a drunk llama.

She told herself not to turn around and look back at him. But she couldn’t resist. Her mouth dried up when her gaze landed on the wide expanse of his shoulders as he jogged down the stairs.

“What was that all about?” Debbie asked, and Wren realized her sister was still on the phone. “Since when do you giggle like a little girl?”

“It’s nothing.” She wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder as she reached the front door of her new apartment. “Nothing at all.”

Let’s keep it at nothing—you’re not here to ogle men.

Her arm ached from carrying all the shopping bags in one hand, the burn in her muscles getting hotter as she fumbled for her keys. Sweat beaded at her hairline. What in the world had possessed her to move into a building with no elevator?

“Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“Debbie...” Wren sighed as she pushed the door open with a grunt. “It was just my neighbor.”

“What’s he like?”

Delicious. The word sprang to her mind immediately. The guy from apartment 401 was definitely all that and a bag of chips, as her old boss used to say. So far she hadn’t done more than return his friendly hellos and now turn down his offer of help in a most embarrassing way. But she’d be lying if she said he hadn’t made an appearance in one—okay, two...at least—dirty dreams.

“He seems nice. Friendly.” She let out a silent gasp of relief as she set the bags on the kitchen counter. “Same as everyone else here.”

“And where is here, exactly?” Debbie’s tone was sharp. “You still haven’t told me where you’re staying.”

“I’m in New York.”

“New York is a big place. How about you narrow it down to a borough for me?”

Her sister was exactly the kind of person who would show up on her doorstep, wanting to “help” and be part of the action. But Debbie, while she was a great person and the shining star of the Livingston family, was not exactly street smart. Or subtle.

“I don’t want anyone else getting involved.” She turned and sagged back against the counter, pushing her hair from her eyes.

“You shouldn’t be involved,” her sister huffed.

Maybe. But her best friend, Kylie, had been attacked and she refused to talk about it.

Wren had a strong suspicion the incident had something to do with the gallery where Kylie had been working because anytime Wren mentioned it, Kylie went white as a ghost.

Originally they had both applied for the gallery internship, but only Kylie had been successful in gaining one of the coveted spots. Then, after she returned home, the gallery’s owner had called Wren to offer her Kylie’s old spot. Seems she’d been next in line.

And just like that, Wren had packed her bags and moved to New York.

“I still can’t believe you’ve gone on this vigilante mission,” Debbie continued. “Now I have to miss out on seeing my sister because you’ve once again taken on other people’s problems. I can’t even send you a goddamn Christmas card.”

“It’s not even June yet. Christmas is ages away and things will be back to normal by then... I promise.” She spoke the words with way more confidence than she felt. “As for Kylie—”

“I’ll look after her, I promise.” Debbie sighed. “Although I have no idea how I’m supposed to keep dodging her questions about where you’ve run off to. She knows something’s up.”

“We stick to the story—I’m away at an art retreat and they have a no-cell-phone policy, so she can’t call. But I’ll email her when I can. No one else needs to know what I’m doing, got it?”

Debbie grumbled her agreement. They lived in a small town where information had a way of traveling at the speed of light. The only reason she’d revealed more of her plan to Debbie was because her sister had caught her booking a flight to New York after she’d said the retreat was in California.

“If I get in trouble here I don’t want to drag anyone else into my problems.”

“Don’t you mean Kylie’s problems?”

“Come on, Deb.” She sighed. “Kylie is like our sister. I have to find out what happened to her. Anyway, my reputation is already ruined at home... What do I have to lose by trying to do something good for a friend?”

“Your reputation is not ruined. A few uptight old biddies think you’re a bit wild, so what?”

“They called me a sexual deviant.” Her humiliation still burned as brightly as a newly lit flame. “And a blight on their community.”

“It’s not true. You’ve helped out so many families at the community center, you’ve painted faces at the summer fair,” Debbie said, and Wren could practically see her sister ticking the items off her perfectly manicured fingers the way she always did when she was mad. “You’ve made cupcakes for almost every bake sale and your stuff is always the first to sell out, you’ve—”

“Enough.” She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. Never in her life would she admit how much it hurt that Charity Springs had ostracized her, and hearing her sister point out all she’d done was only making it worse.

She may not be the biggest fan of the small town—or its residents—but it was still her home.

“Debs, please. Can we not rehash this again? I know you’re upset with me for leaving and I’m sorry. But I need to do this.”

“You ‘need’ to run around fixing other people’s problems, do you? All right, I guess you do.” It was as close to acceptance as Wren was going to get, so she’d take it. “What are you supposed to do, spend your days playing spy?”

“I’m working at a gallery and I’m painting. It’s not exactly a hard life.” She didn’t bother to mention the recon activities she was planning, like trying to break into her new boss’s email account.

Details. You’re doing the right thing by your friend—that’s all that matters.

Debbie made a scoffing sound on the other end of the line. “You’re so full of shit.”

“And you swear way too much for a girl who’s going to be an upstanding pillar of society.” Wren began to unpack her groceries. Flour for her pizza base, some fresh kale, tomatoes, basil and a delicious-looking knob of buffalo mozzarella.

“Upstanding pillar of society?” Debbie snorted. “Spare me. And I’ve noticed that your little list of activities doesn’t involve screwing your hot neighbor.”

Heat crawled up Wren’s cheeks. Thank God she’d decided not to video chat with her sister, because she was sure her face would be flaming tomato red right about now. “I never mentioned he was hot.”

“That heavy breathing did all the talking for you.” Her sister cackled. “Not to mention the fact that you seemed to forget how to string a sentence together as soon as he came near you.”

Usually, she didn’t engage in her sister’s teasing, but right now she was grateful that the conversation had turned away from her secret mission. “Okay, he’s good-looking. So what? That’s not reason enough for me to sleep with him.”

“Isn’t it? When was the last time you got laid? And if you tell me that you haven’t had sex since you broke up with Christian, so help me...”

For someone who was supposedly a “sexual deviant,” she’d actually been quite conservative when it came to sex. There’d been no one in the six months since she’d broken up with her ex—because now all the men in town either thought she was easy or bad news. Neither of which was true.

Sucking on her lower lip, she concentrated on continuing to unpack the groceries. Milk, eggs, butter, vanilla extract.

“Wren?”