Buch lesen: «Sexy Silent Nights»
Praise for Cara Summers
“Fans looking for a thrill ride will be pleased!”
—RT Book Reviews on Tailspin
“Great characters with explosive chemistry, a fun intrigue-flavored plot and a high degree of sensuality add up to an excellent read!”
—RT Book Reviews on Taken Beyond Temptation
“The sex scenes were incredibly hot! Ms. Summers knows how to entertain her readers while writing something a bit risqué.”
—Night Owl Reviews on Led into Temptation
“A great mystery. The excitement and romance never end.”
—RT Book Reviews on Christmas Male
“This romantic suspense is a sexy, fast-paced page turner.”
—Freshfiction.com on Come Toy with Me
“Ms Summers manages to weave breathtaking suspense and sizzling love scenes with a deftness that will have you turning the pages late into the night…this is one you’ll need sunscreen for. Another sexy, steamy romance written by one of the best in series genre.”
—Romancejunkies.com on Lie with Me
Dear Reader,
I love writing stories set at Christmastime, but this one was especially fun because it allowed me to do a whole “list” of fun things.
First of all, Sexy Silent Nights allowed me to tell Jonah Stone’s story and wind up a trilogy about three friends who met in their early teens at the St. Francis Center for Boys. (You may remember Gabe from Take My Breath Away…and Nash from Tailspin.)
Acting on a compelling and instant attraction, supper club owner Jonah Stone and security agent Cilla Michaels agree to indulge in one sexy night together. Any more is strictly forbidden. And utterly irresistible…
Telling Jonah’s story also allowed me to revisit a city I left my heart in from my very first visit—San Francisco.
Last on the list, and certainly not least, is that writing this story allowed me to meet and share with you an amazing calico cat named Flash who is a resident at the Furry Friends Shelter in Barrie, Ontario, the Blaze Authors’ first Pet Project. I hope you love her as much as I do.
For news on my future releases, visit www.carasummers.com. And for more information on the Blaze Authors’ Pet Project, visit blazeauthors.com/blog.
May all your Christmas wishes and forbidden fantasies come true!
Cara Summers
Sexy Silent Nights
Cara Summers
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Was CARA SUMMERS born with the dream of becoming a published romance novelist? No. But now that she is, she still feels her dream has come true. And she owes it all to her mother, who handed her a Harlequin romance novel about fifteen years ago and said, “Try it. You’ll love it.” Mom was right! Cara loves writing for the Blaze line because it allows her to create strong, determined women and seriously sexy men who will risk everything to achieve their dreams. When she isn’t working on new stories, she teaches in the writing program at Syracuse University and at a community college near her home.
To my nephew Nick and my new niece Kristen.
May all your future Christmases together be merry!
And especially to my great-nephew Luca—who celebrates his very first Christmas this month.
I love all three of you!
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
1
One sexy silent night…5:00 a.m.
CILLA MICHAELS WAS NOT GOING to leave the hotel room without her panties. She’d been a cop for three years, a private security agent for two, and now she headed up G.W. Securities’ new office in San Francisco. She was a pro at tracking things down.
On her hands and knees, she inched her way quietly down the length of her side of the bed, using her hand to sweep the space beneath it as she went.
Nothing.
She was not the kind of woman who would abandon anything that had a La Perla label on it. She’d parted with a small fortune for the red lace bikini, and it was part of a set. The matching camisole had already been located near the nightstand. She had a vague recollection of stripping it off and tossing it there herself. While in the throes of uncontrollable passion. Because that’s exactly what Jonah Stone had sparked in her.
Ducking her head down, she lifted the dust ruffle and peered beneath. The dim light slipping through the narrow slits in the drapes didn’t provide much in the way of illumination.
The rest of her clothes she’d found quite easily near the door of the hotel suite where Jonah Stone had efficiently stripped her out of them. The man had fast moves, and just thinking about what had happened the instant the door had closed behind them brought back the sensation of those hard hands on her skin, the impatience, the demand. And the pleasure.
Heat shimmered through her, pooling in her center and then radiating outward. He’d taken her the first time right there. No small talk. No talk at all. But the foreplay had been top-notch. His hands had pushed into her hair, and she’d felt each of those hard, slender fingers while he’d assaulted her mouth with lips, teeth and tongue. Each sensation had been so sharp. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget his mouth, his taste.
Then he’d moved those hands over her shoulders, shoving her jacket off and molding her body with such purpose and skill.
He’d smelled so good and felt better—hard and tough and male. Hadn’t she been imagining him just like this ever since the instant she’d first seen him at that party yesterday?
When those smoky-gray eyes had collided with hers, something had clicked inside of her like a switch turning brains cells off and lust on—full throttle. That was the only explanation she could come up with for agreeing to his one-night stand proposition.
His argument had been logical enough—just the kind you’d expect from an astute businessman. After all, they were unattached adults, intensely attracted to each other, and fate in the form of an airport-closing blizzard had thrown them together. Why not pleasure each other for one long, sexy night and then go their separate ways?
She might have come up with at least two good reasons why not. In fact she’d been thinking about them when he’d suddenly appeared at her table in the lounge of the hotel. But looking into his eyes had triggered that little click again, and sent logic flying.
That was how she’d ended up against the door of his hotel room, his mouth branding hers. She had only a blurry recollection of how her sweater and slacks had hit the floor. Her focus had been on those hard hands moving up her legs and heating her blood to the boiling point. She’d never before experienced such intense sensations. Never wanted anyone so desperately. He’d opened up a new and wonderful world for her. Sensations flooded through her again as she recalled how he’d slipped fingers beneath the thin lace that still covered her, pushed into her and sent her flying.
Again.
He’d whispered the word so quietly against her mouth. His hands had already slid between them. She caught the rasp of a zipper, the tear of foil. The sounds might have been the most erotic she’d ever heard. Even as he sheathed himself, the need inside her had spiked into craving. She had to have him inside her. She couldn’t survive another ten seconds if he wasn’t.
Now. Right now.
He’d dug fingers into her hips, lifting her as she’d wrapped arms and legs around him. Then he’d driven into her, and she hadn’t cared if she survived at all. His thrusts had battered her against the door again and again. Fast. As if he’d needed this to survive just as much as she had. That was the last rational thought she’d registered before his release triggered an orgasm that had simply shattered her.
Drawing in a deep breath, Cilla pressed a hand against her hammering heart. A little side-trip down memory lane was not going to help her find her panties. All it made her want to do was crawl back into bed with Jonah.
Don’t think about that. No more fantasies, either. That’s what had landed her in this situation—a one-night stand in a hotel near the Denver airport with Jonah Stone—a man she’d met for the first time only yesterday.
Her new job at G.W. Securities had brought her to a small family gathering at the Fortune Mansion in Denver. The moment she’d arrived at the party, she’d been aware of him. He was a man that any female would look at more than once—tall, dark and ruggedly handsome. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans, which enhanced the broad shoulders, muscled chest and long, lanky legs. His chin was strong, his mouth firm and his cheekbones made her think of a warrior’s.
Of course, she’d looked at him more than once or twice. Any woman needed a little eye candy in her life, right? It was when her eyes had finally collided with his that the trouble had started.
She’d heard that click, and she’d totally lost track of where she was, who she was. For seconds, minutes maybe, she hadn’t been aware of anyone or anything but him. A stranger she’d seen across a crowded room.
It was the kind of thing she’d only read about in books or heard in song lyrics or seen in a movie. Everything had frozen, including time.
Before yesterday afternoon, Cilla would have sworn that nothing like that could happen in real life. But it had. More astonishing than that, it had happened to her. And of course, she’d been curious.
Who was he?
And how could he have this amazing effect on her?
As a top-notch security agent and investigator, she’d tracked down the answer to her first question within five minutes. His name was Jonah Stone, and he was the best friend of her new boss, Gabe Wilder. That alone would pretty much have classified Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome as forbidden fruit. The new G.W. Securities office in San Francisco was only six months old, and Gabe had hired her to run it. She had to concentrate on her job, on proving herself to Gabe. The last thing she needed was to get involved with his best friend.
But there was another reason to put Jonah Stone on the Forbidden Fruit list. From what Gabe had told her, his friend was a busy and successful entrepreneur, the owner of three successful supper clubs and totally focused on his businesses. That reminded her a bit too much of her father.
But even with the warning flags flying, she’d still tried to satisfy her curiosity about the second question. How could he have that time-stopping, nothing-else-matters effect on her mind and senses? So when he’d approached her, she’d gripped his outstretched hand, felt the hard palm, the firm strength of his fingers, and the oddest feeling of connection. Then she’d met his eyes and her mind had just emptied. And she’d been struck by a vivid image of the two of them, naked and rolling across a wide bed in a dark room.
Both the feeling and the image had faded, and she’d been just fine. But she’d also made her excuses and left the party early. And everything would have been fine if it hadn’t been for the damn blizzard.
If the Denver airport hadn’t had to close down last night, she and Jonah would have both been back in San Francisco in their separate apartments, and her expensive red panties would have been in her laundry hamper. But it had shut down and she’d decided to switch to an early-morning flight and stay at the airport hotel. She’d been in the bar having a glass of wine and thinking about him when he’d shown up. During the time it had taken him to cross to her table and join her, she’d experienced for the third time in her life what she’d decided to call the nobody-else-but-Jonah effect.
For a moment, neither one of them had spoken. And then he’d made his proposition. And she’d agreed to it. The rest of the night was now history—and the sexiest one she’d ever experienced.
Panties, she reminded herself as she inched her way around the corner of the bed. Find them. Get dressed. Leave. The sooner she got back to San Francisco, the better.
They weren’t anywhere along the foot of the bed. They weren’t anywhere in the trail of clothes that led to the bed. Chances were good that they were still in the bed. But if she got back into that bed, it wouldn’t be just for her expensive underwear.
She spotted the red lace the moment she crawled around the end of the bed to Jonah’s side. In the light from the digital clock radio on the nightstand, she also saw Jonah. More of him than she wanted to. He was sprawled on his stomach, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress. The sheet covered him only to the waist.
And that strongly muscled back was not what she should be looking at. She dragged her gaze away and glanced down his arm to where his fingers nearly brushed the floor. Threaded through them was her quarry. All she had to do was get those panties and leave.
Very quietly, she crawled forward, scarcely daring to breathe. Gripping just the edge of the lace, she tugged.
Jonah’s fingers reflexively clenched the red undies.
Cilla waited, listening hard. His breathing was steady. Only his fingers had moved, so in another moment, they’d relax again. This time she’d just pull harder.
That was one strategy—the smart one. Grab and go.
But her gaze had already betrayed her. It had left the panties behind to run up that arm. Jonah’s face was turned toward her and his eyes, those incredible eyes, were closed.
She could easily wake him. There were a lot of ways to persuade a man to give up a piece of lace. Several scenarios ran through her mind.
She snuck a quick look at the clock: 5:15 a.m. The alarm hadn’t yet sounded. Technically, it was still night. And if a girl only had one night to spend with a man?
She might as well make the most of it.
Rising, she pulled the sheet down and climbed back onto the bed to straddle Jonah. Then she leaned down to nibble at his ear and whisper, “I have a proposition for you.”
2
Yet another sexy silent night, 2:00 a.m., three weeks later…
JONAH STONE STOOD AT the window of his apartment, looking out at his own private view of the Golden Gate Bridge. For almost a month now, he’d stood at the same place, delaying the time before he would inevitably have to climb up the stairs to his loft and go to bed. Once he did, he’d dream of her again.
Cilla Michaels.
The dreams that had been haunting him since the one night they’d spent together at that airport hotel in Denver were growing more vivid. In each of them, she’d be with him, right there in his bed. The sensations were always so intense. He’d smell that elusive scent of hers, feel her heart beat beneath his lips, taste the salty dampness of her skin under her breasts, the sweetness at her throat, her inner thighs, hear the way his name sounded when she gasped it into the silent night.
Steeped in her, he’d rise above her and look into those incredibly green eyes as he entered her. Again and again, he’d thrust into her until he lost all of himself.
Then he’d wake to find himself alone in the bed. And he’d try to convince himself that was the way he wanted it.
One night. That’s what he’d promised himself and her. That’s what she’d agreed to. The memory of that night should have faded by now. That’s what memories did. But everything about that night was still vividly etched in his mind.
Turning, Jonah glanced at the conference table where he’d left his cell phone. Next to it sat a small green box with a red ribbon. Cilla ran G.W. Securities’ new office in San Francisco. So he could use the threatening note that had been tucked inside the box as a professional excuse to call her. Was that why he’d delayed calling his friend Gabe Wilder about it? So that he could call Cilla instead? He’d been tempted to do so more nights now than he could count. More than once he’d punched part of her number into his cell before he’d been able to stop himself.
The little green box with the red bow had been delivered to him that evening just when the cocktail hour at Pleasures had been its busiest. Since his apartment took up the third floor of the building, he frequently filled in for his manager, Virgil, on Monday nights.
He continued to study the box, debating. He’d been in the bar when his steady customer and current business partner, Carl Rockwell, had brought the small gift to him. Before he could thank him, Carl had explained that a man dressed up as Santa had given it to him just outside and asked him to deliver it.
Jonah had felt something the moment he’d taken the box, a tightening in his gut. The hairs on the back of his neck had stirred, too. He’d even turned to look through the windows that lined the wall of the bar to see if whoever had sent the gift might still be watching. There was no sign of a Santa.
Then he’d put the gift behind the bar and out of his mind as a new wave of customers streamed into the club. He hadn’t opened it until a short time ago when he’d returned to his apartment. Moving to the table, he took the lid off the box and picked up the folded note he’d found inside.
’Tis the season for remembering Christmases past. Pleasures and fortune are fleeting. You destroyed an innocent life in pursuit of yours. You’ll pay for that soon. Six nights and counting…
Rereading it had his gut instinct kicking in again. Perhaps it was the wording. And there was something else that kept tugging at the corners of his mind. Some memory that was eluding him. Maybe it was the reference to Christmases past. At twenty-nine he had a lot of them to remember and several that he’d tried hard to forget. Especially that long-ago one when his father had promised to return, but hadn’t.
He’d also made his share of enemies. Some of them probably dated back to his early days in foster care. He hadn’t always “played well with other children.” As a businessman, he was demanding. He hired and fired people. Over the past six years he’d opened three successful supper clubs in the United States and he was in the process of opening another one in San Diego and a possible fifth in Rome.
Pleasures had been his first supper club and the result of a dream that had taken shape during his years in business school. His goal had been to create a place where people could escape into a different world and find temporary respite from the harsher realities of life. And he’d known that he wanted to open the club in San Francisco as a kind of thank-you to the saint the city had been named after, a saint who’d played an important part in his life.
The success of Pleasures had allowed him to open Interludes, a sports-themed bar in San Francisco, and more recently Passions, another supper club in Denver.
He didn’t like it at all that the word pleasures was used in the note. But perhaps he was overreacting. It was December 19, a peak time for his businesses, and he wasn’t getting much sleep, thanks to Cilla Michaels.
So he wasn’t going to alarm Gabe yet. And calling Cilla, who was running Gabe’s newly opened office in San Francisco, would be a mistake on so many levels.
He strode back to the window. Not that he could put all the blame on her. He’d known from the first instant he’d seen her at that party in the Fortune Mansion that she was different. That she’d be different for him. Gut instinct again.
His eyes had been drawn to her the moment she’d entered the room. No surprise there. Any man would have given her a second look. Her face had grabbed his attention first with its delicate features and stubborn chin. But he certainly hadn’t missed the slender, almost lanky body and those long legs that the charcoal-gray slacks showcased. But it hadn’t been just her looks that had pulled at him. She seemed to radiate an energy that tugged at him on a gut level.
Then there were those green eyes. The first time he’d looked into them, he’d felt as if he’d taken a punch right in the solar plexus. And when he’d clasped her hand in his, for a moment, he hadn’t wanted to let it go.
The last thing he wanted or needed right now was to pursue a relationship with a woman who could have that effect on him. A woman like that could change your life.
During the past year, he’d seen his two best friends, Gabe Wilder and Nash Fortune, meet the women they’d decided to spend the rest of their lives with. Nash had already married his former high school sweetheart, Bianca Quinn, and Gabe was planning to marry FBI agent Nicola Guthrie on Valentine’s Day.
He was happy for his friends, but Jonah liked his life just the way it was. Simple and uncomplicated. The right woman could change that. But on that night nearly a month ago in Denver, had he listened to what his mind was telling him? Had he heeded his gut instinct?
No.
Instead, he’d reverted to the reckless style of his youth when his name had been renowned in the family-court system. He’d followed Cilla Michaels when she’d left the party. He’d even watched her in the airport like a stalker until her flight was canceled. Then he’d followed her to the airport hotel and booked a room. Finally, he’d walked into the lounge, sat down at her table, and propositioned her for a one-night stand.
In the business world, Jonah Stone was never impulsive. He studied his options, planned various strategies. And he was even more careful in his private life and relationships. He’d been nine when his father had decided to desert his family, nine and a half when his mother had stepped in front of a bus rather than go on without the love of her life. He’d vowed never to be that vulnerable to anyone. Happy ever after didn’t happen. The most one could hope for was a happy right now.
Instinct told him that Cilla Michaels could have the power to make him hope for the impossible. He turned back to the table and let his gaze rest on the green box with its festive red ribbon. His instinct was telling him something about that box, too, and he might not be overreacting.
Once again, he debated calling Cilla and hiring G.W. Securities. He had no doubt that his friend Gabe would recommend she handle the case. She was here in San Francisco. Gabe was in Denver. And at the party, Gabe had spent some time singing Cilla’s praises to him. She’d been involved in a high-profile personal security case in L.A. and she’d saved a client from a crazed stalker. In Gabe’s opinion, she had a rare combination of intelligence and excellent instincts.
But if he called her, he’d also have her in his bed again.
He pressed his hands against his eyes and rubbed. He didn’t have to decide tonight. In the morning, he was flying to Denver to attend the annual Christmas party at the Denver Boys and Girls Club, a place he’d been running for years with Gabe and Nash. They’d opened the club when the St. Francis Center for Boys, the place where they’d all first met, had closed down. He’d discuss the box and the note with Gabe.
Jonah moved toward the spiral staircase to his loft. And there was always the chance that tonight would be the night that Cilla Michaels finally faded from his dreams.
CILLA JOLTED AWAKE AND TRIED to focus. Relief came when she realized she’d fallen asleep on the couch and not in her bed. During the past three weeks, she’d rationed the hours she allowed herself to spend in her bed.
Because the damn thing was cursed.
Each time she fell asleep in it she dreamed of Jonah Stone touching her, tormenting her, taking her.
And each time she woke up to find herself alone, she yearned for him. So avoiding her bed had become almost as important as avoiding Jonah.
Which was why she’d ended up dozing off on her couch during a Christmas movie marathon on the Hallmark Channel. The credits for Miracle on 34th Street were rolling down the screen. A quick glance at the time on her digital TV box confirmed that she’d dozed off for nearly twenty minutes.
That pissed her off.
Not only had she missed her favorite part of the movie, the part where Kris Kringle proves he really is Santa Claus, but she’d also missed the cheese and crackers. The plate sitting on the cushion beside her was now empty.
She glared at her cat. Flash, a plumply proportioned calico, lay stretched serenely along the arm of the sofa, a good distance from the scene of the crime.
Pets were not allowed at The Manderly Apartments, a rule that was explicitly spelled out in the lease and articulated equally clearly by the apartment manager, Mrs. Ortiz, a woman who reminded Cilla eerily of Mrs. Danvers in the old Rebecca movie.
But Flash hadn’t given Cilla much choice. When she’d moved in a few months ago, the calico had migrated from its former home on the fire escape to the living room via an open window. And stayed.
It had to be for either the food or the conversation since the cat wouldn’t allow her to stroke, cuddle or even pick her up most of the time.
“You’re supposed to share,” Cilla pointed out.
Flash’s bland expression clearly said, “You snooze, you lose.”
Her phone rang and the caller ID lady chimed, “Call from Wilder, Gabe.”
Cilla sprang from the sofa and raced for her desk. Gabe headed up G.W. Securities’ home base in Denver. Two months ago he’d given her a new beginning by hiring her to manage his branch office in San Francisco when she’d moved on from a personal security agency in L.A. Gabe wouldn’t be calling her at home on her night off if it wasn’t important.
Maybe he even had a job for her. Business had been good lately. G.W. Securities offered a variety of services to corporate as well as private clients. Lots of people wanted to give security systems for Christmas, and she enjoyed the challenge of working on their design. But there were times when she missed the action that came with providing personal security.
Mentally crossing her fingers, she grabbed the receiver on the third ring. “Gabe.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“Not at all.” The cheese and crackers were gone, her favorite movie was over, and working would give her a perfect excuse to avoid her bed.
“I need a favor,” Gabe said.
Cilla’s heart sank. Not a job after all. “What can I do?”
“I want you to meet someone at the airport and make sure he gets home safely. He’s not a client. He doesn’t even know I’m making this phone call.”
Hearing the worry in his voice, Cilla reached for a pen and paper. “Who is he and what time does his plane touch down?”
On the other end of the line, Gabe expelled a breath. “Thanks, Cilla. It’s Jonah Stone and he’s due to arrive in San Francisco at 10:15. There was a lengthy delay because of the weather here in Denver. I was hoping the flight would be canceled, but he’s on his way.”
Jonah Stone.
Just the mention of his name had her heart skipping a beat. His image flashed into her mind—all that glorious dark hair, the handsome face with its sharp cheekbones, clearly defined chin with just that hint of a cleft, and the dark gray eyes… Just thinking about him made her knees weak and she carefully lowered herself into her desk chair.
“Jonah’s not going to like that I’m sending you,” Gabe said.
Cilla didn’t imagine that he would. She’d had a chance to explore every inch of that taut, toned, amazing body. Jonah was a man who could handle himself on a physical level pretty well. That was definitely part of what made him so damned attractive.
More than once since their night in Denver, she’d regretted the fact that he was on her Forbidden Fruit list. More than once, she’d run over the reasons why. She’d done a little research on him. According to Gabe, the man had a real talent for hacking and electronic security, and right out of college, he’d helped Gabe establish G.W. Securities and continued to work there while he’d recruited backers for a supper club in San Francisco. In the past six years, he’d opened two more clubs and others were in the planning stages. A man that successful had to put business first just as her father had.
And still did. Bradley Michaels was handsome, charming and currently working as the CEO of his fourth company. There’d been no time in his life for her mother or her. Not even at Christmas. Christmas had been his time to focus even more on the business and entertaining. After five years of playing second fiddle, her mother had divorced him, and since then Cilla’s contact with her father had been limited to phone calls on her birthday and Christmas.
“I’m worried about Jonah,” Gabe said.
“Why?”
“Because he’s worried enough to cancel his plans and fly back to San Francisco early. He received a threatening note today. It was inside a green box tied with red ribbon and hand delivered to him while he was at a Christmas party he and Father Mike Flynn and I were throwing for the Boys and Girls Club we run here in Denver. I have some people still working on the box and the ribbon, but there were no prints, and I’ve had no luck tracking down the sender. He or she wore a Santa suit and sent it in with one of the kids. An early present for Mr. Stone. I’ll send the contents of the note right now in a text.”
Cilla grabbed her cell phone. “It’s the first one he’s received?”
“No. I asked him that right away and he admitted getting one yesterday during the height of the cocktail hour at Pleasures.”
“I’ve got the text.” Then she read it aloud.
“‘’Tis the season for remembering Christmases past. Pleasures and fortune are fleeting. You destroyed an innocent life in pursuit of yours. You’ll pay for that soon. Five nights and counting…’”
Today was the twentieth of December. Cilla did the math in her head. “Five nights until Christmas.”
