âYou donât have to stop,â Sydney said, pouting
Adam wished he hadnât. His fingers had been almost there, working their way up her thighs, getting closer and closer to home. Then a cupboard had slammed in the kitchen, striking Adam with instant awareness of where he wasâand what heâd been about to do. Yanking his hands from Sydneyâs legs, he rocked back on his heels, his body thrumming, every inch of his flesh aroused. âMy sisterâs in the other room.â
âThen letâs go somewhere private.â
Sydney didnât seem the least bit embarrassed that theyâd almost made love, with Adamâs sister only a few steps away. Her expression reflected only desireâthe hot, unadulterated need to feel his hands on her body, no matter what.
âI donât know you,â Adam said.
She learned forward, grabbed his hands and pressed them to her rib cage. Her breathing wasnât quite as steady as she let on, and the moisture seeping through her paper-thin blouse testified to a heat more intense than the ninety-degree temperatures outside. She was burning up from the inside outâ¦and she wanted him to know it.
âYou do know me, Adam. Better than any man ever has. You just donât remember right now, thatâs all.â She ran her finger over his lips, her voice a throaty purr. âBut you willâ¦.â
Dear Reader,
Letâs clear one thing up right here and now. I am not Sydney Colburn. Or rather, sheâs not me. Yes, sheâs a romance writerâ¦like I am. Yes, she has a smart mouthâ¦like I do. But thatâs where the similarities end, I swear. Thatâs the beauty of being a writerâindulging all sorts of fantasies, like wearing designer clothes, driving a candy-apple red Corvette convertible and executing a seduction of a man who looks particularly yummy in blue jeans and a tool belt.
This seriesâand the bookâhave been a ball to work on. Not only did I get to revisit several characters from other books (Cassie Michaels from Whatâs Your Pleasure? and Jillian Hennessy from Just Watch Meâ¦) but I had the chance to work with talented authors Leslie Kelly and Tori Carrington! Our BAD GIRLS CLUB is open to new members, so make sure to stop by my Web site, www.julieleto.com, and sign up!
Enjoy,
Julie Elizabeth Leto
P.S. Iâve written a BAD GIRLS CLUB novella for the ultimate bad girl, rock-and-roll diva DâArcy Wilde! Check it out at this monthâs âRed-Hot Readâ at www.eHarlequin.com.
For Leslie Kelly, good friend, and Bad Girls Club head honchoâ¦thanks for inviting me to join this series.
Right up our alleys, huh? When weâre bad, weâre better.
For Lori & Tony Karayianni, aka Tori Carringtonâ¦working with you never feels like work. Come up and see me sometime.
For Renée Perkie and her generous Ladies Lunch Groupâ¦your support means the world to me. Hereâs to more good books, good food and good funâ¦though on second thought, goodness has nothing to do with it.
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
TO STOP THE INFERNAL KNOCKING, Sydney Colburn swung her front door open. Bright light sent her stumbling backward, but she managed to catch the doorknob for balance. Unable to form a curse harsh enough to express her ire, she opted to growl.
The person who had driven her to this indignity had the audacity to sound amused. âAre you always this cheery at twelve noon or are you just really happy to see me?â
Sydney squinted, fighting the blinding lightâthe noon hour explained the glareâto find out who had the frickinâ nerve to show up at her door sounding so incredibly buoyant when Sydney had a raging hangover. Her anger deflated when she met Cassie Michaelsâs eyesâsapphire-blue and wide with nineteen-year-old innocence.
Sydney knew Cassieâs innocent act wasnât entirely fake. With a petite body and naturally dark hair plaited in youthful braids that reminded Sydney of Gilliganâs Mary Ann, Cassie played the ingenue card for all it was worth. But Sydney had known Cassie too long to completely buy her sweet young thing act. Still, she let her inside the condo anyway. Cassie was, after all, the niece of Sydneyâs very best friend in the world. The very best friend who was indirectly responsible for her drinking binge the night before. And Syd was pretty sure that Cassie had been the one to make sure she got home safely last night.
âShut the door before I show you how thrilled I really am,â Sydney threatened feebly, stumbling away from the threshold and cursing herself for mixing vodka and rum. Or was it tequila and gin? She didnât remember. She didnât need to remember. Whatever sheâd drank the night before had been blended with something pink. Grenadine? Cranberry juice? When she opened her fridge searching for something to quench her thirst and caught sight of a jug of Ocean Spray, she gagged, thankful she had no breakfast in her stomach and, therefore, none on her floor.