Sequel to Hot Commodity
Contemporary Adult Romance
Orginally published September 2010
79,844 words, 294 pages
2-Flame Sensuality Rating
IT'S NOT EVERY DAY YOU LEARN YOU HAVE A NINE-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER
Boston Kincaid's life is forever changed when he reads the note from Cassidy Trenton, who's looking for her daddy. Vividly remembering the girl's mother, Boston is compelled to learn the truth about Cassidy's paternity.
Single working mother Ellie Trenton is completely bowled over to find her old college flame, whom she hasn't seen in ten years, loitering on her front porch when she comes home from work one day.
At the sight of each other, Boston and Ellie's decade apart melts away, and that old chemistry between them flares back to life. But trust doesn't come easily, and old wounds never healed properly.
Can Boston and Ellie learn to forgive and forget so they can experience the love they never shared, or will child custody battles keep them apart forever?
Boston Kincaid needed a woman. Bad.
Even his secretary had about tempted him into falling for one of her seduction attempts this afternoon. Not that Crystal was homely looking or easily turned down. On a scale of one to ten, she rated a high eight, if not an outright nine with her long, shapely legs and high, proud breasts.
But it hadn't taken him long to realize she'd most likely slept her way into her current position. All those glowing references—given by men, of course—definitely hadn't come because of her filing abilities or correspondence skills.
Boston swore he'd keep his distance. But today, it had been hard…literally. He wanted sex. He wanted to feel some soft, giving skin, breathe in that intoxicating smell of woman, and lose himself between a pair of lush breasts and smooth, sleek thighs.
Sighing, he shifted in the suddenly cramped driver's seat of his Infiniti and glared out the window at the soggy rain coating the manicured lawn in front of the house where he'd parked.
"Stupid rain," he muttered.
If Boston wanted to be perfectly honest with himself—and in this situation, he did not—he'd admit it wasn't Crystal who had made him so horny. It was this god-awful drizzle running down his windshield, stirring up unwanted yet too-delicious- to-forget memories.
He closed his eyes and wished his passenger to hurry her sweet tush up so he wouldn't have to sit here, waiting—and remembering—any longer. But with his lids clamped tight, the constant tap, tap, tap of raindrops on the glass seemed to taunt him.
You'll never, never, never forget, they goaded.
His ears twitched and focused on the sprinkle outside, making his body tighten with the memory of the first time he'd ever made love in the rain. In his mind's eye, he saw long flowing hair, big brown eyes and sweet, curving lips that had always been able to send him to his knees. He'd never been with anyone so responsive or responded to someone so fully in his life.
The vision stirred as much as it aggravated. God, he hated the rain. This kind of slow, continuous spray always made him want sex. It made him want...Ellie.
"Ellie," his lips formed the name, though he refused to speak it aloud.
Letting out an irritated growl, he opened his eyes and ran a harassed hand through his hair. Great. He'd thought her name. To Boston, even thinking that name was a bad omen. He might as well go to a mirror and say Bloody Mary three times because now he was going to be plagued with haunting memories.
But, oh, what fine memories they were.
His seat grew even more uncomfortable. Boston arched his back and reached down to readjust, thinking how easy it'd be to relieve himself off that single memory alone.
He snapped his hand from his crotch, humiliated with his moronic thoughts. Just because he'd had the best sex of his life a decade ago with some old flame in the drizzly-ass rain didn't mean he had to make a complete fool of himself every time the clouds turned gray. T
he porch light to the house came on and Boston straightened, guiltily wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. He watched the front door open. A ladybug umbrella appeared first before it lifted to shield the woman under it from the damp evening.
Boston sucked in an audible breath. The vision that dodged puddles on her sidewalk as she hurried toward his Infiniti blew Crystal's nine totally out of the water. Olivia Banks was a straight eleven. Petite, curvy, and soft in all the right places.
He knew too. He'd seen her naked once. Purely by accident, but it wasn't the kind of thing he was likely to forget, especially in his current frame of mind. Yet a night with Olivia was not meant to be. She belonged to his best friend…his best friend who also happened to be his first cousin, business partner, and ultimate pain in the ass.
So, what was this goddess of womanly delights doing, spending the evening with Boston Kincaid? Actually, it was all because of his pain-in-the-ass first cousin, business partner, best friend. Cameron was out of town on a business trip, and when he'd called an hour before with his request, Boston had only managed to wing up his eyebrows in surprise.
"Excuse me? Did you just ask me to spend the evening alone with your gorgeous wife?" Boston gave a quick, ornery grin. "Well, sure thing, buddy. No problem."
"You guys won't be alone, smartass," Cam growled through the phone. "I already know you're headed to your brother's for supper. I just want you to take her along for company. She misses me bad this time."
Boston snorted. "No, she doesn't. She loves it when you're gone. Then she can finally spend time— alone—with me."
It had to be one of Boston's favorite pastimes to needle his cousin about his gorgeous wife. Cam had never been so prickly or possessive before. It'd been sickening and a little heartrending to watch his best friend take the plunge into marriage. Sometimes Boston couldn't help but be a tad jealous when he saw a grinning, satisfied Cameron stroll into work each morning…especially when he knew exactly what his friend was getting every night.
"In your dreams," Cameron scoffed, "I mean, go ahead and try your best to steal her, but…" He let out a self-satisfied sigh. "You won't succeed. I fear I've ruined her for every other man out there."
Boston chuckled as he hung up. In the back of his mind, though, the little green bug of envy nipped at him, and his antsy, twitchy need for sex doubled.
Olivia opened the passenger side door, and a cool, damp breeze entered with her.
Entertained by watching her try to close the umbrella and shut the door at the same time, Boston grinned. He genuinely liked Olivia. Not only was she fun to hang out with, but she loved his best friend to distraction and had pulled Cameron from the depths of depression a year ago, probably saving his life. Boston would be forever grateful she'd come into his cousin's world.
"Hey, beautiful," he said and leaned toward her for a kiss.
Obliging, Olivia pressed her cold, wet mouth to his and pulled away grinning. "What's Shannon cooking tonight?" she asked, more concerned with eating than smooching on him.
Instead of answering, Boston continued to lean toward her. "I've got an idea. Let's skip supper at Monty and Shannon's and run off to Tahiti together instead."
"But I'm starving," Olivia said, fluttering her lashes in a begging manner.
Boston cocked his most devastating grin. "I'll stop by a drive-through on the way."
She smiled and stroked his face. "Tempting. But maybe next time. Shannon really is getting better with this whole cooking thing."
Ever since she'd been married to Boston's brother, his sister-in-law, Shannon, had enrolled in cooking class after cooking class as a hobby. She was currently learning all things Thai.
Boston sighed. "You're shattering my ego here, darling. I'm not supposed to be thrown over for a home-cooked meal."