Samhain Publishing

Beauty vs. power—a dangerous game with the heart as the prize…

Jacey Cass radiates confidence and sensuality just once a year, when she meets her rich and powerful lover for a night of anonymous sex. The rest of her calendar is filled with the daily struggle to survive. Her cashier job at Insomnia, Miami’s hottest lingerie shop, doesn’t go far toward college tuition, but she’s determined to rise above her mother’s freeloading legacy.

Alex Vaughn is one promotion away from realizing his life’s ambition. For years he’s been forced to stand by and watch his father systematically destroy the values that made Insomnia great. Now, with an expected vacancy in the summer catalog, he takes a chance. He’s never formally met the fascinating woman he takes to bed every year, but he knows a marketable body when he sees one. The last thing he expects is for her to turn the opportunity down flat.

Jacey won’t consider a handout—even from the man whose white-hot caress is the one bright spot of her life. Then a modeling competition’s prize money lures her from behind the register and into the blinding spotlight, unaware of what the cost could be to her heart…

Copyright © 2009 Avery Beck
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Sometime between the decision to take a drink and the act of getting his mouth on the glass, Alex Vaughn’s face had ended up between the sexiest pair of legs he’d ever seen. An unexpected elbow had jammed into his back and sent him careening forward, and for a moment, his position near the floor put her ankles at eye level. He let his gaze linger on the columns of sleek, cream-colored flesh that descended from a heavenly place above his head all the way down into a couple of strappy black stilettos.

He didn’t dare look up for fear of an angry five-inch heel connecting with his eyeball, but the scenery in front of him made him long for this party to end so he could get on with the reason he attended the damn thing every year. Contrary to what the other employees believed, he wasn’t there to kiss up to his father.

That was how he spent every other day.

A shiny black toe nudged him in the shoulder. “Go ahead and look. You’ve seen it all before,” it said.

Alex rubbed his temple and picked up his crystal champagne flute, taking a moment to remind himself that shoes didn’t talk. Maybe he should have passed up that last drink. He straightened to his full height and a woman’s mouth came into view, glossy and red and smirking at him with unwavering confidence.

His reason. She had arrived.

“We meet again.” He lifted the glass to his lips before remembering that its contents had splattered all over the carpet, narrowly missing his brand new Ferragamo loafers.

Not that he cared much about overpriced footwear, but appearance meant everything at Insomnia’s annual black-tie soirée. Everyone from the chief executive to the newest salesgirl received an invitation to the August bash, and those who weren’t rich were still expected to look that way. As the CEO’s son, Alex could afford his designer suit, but at the moment all he could think about in regards to his clothing—and his
companion’s—was the quickest way to take it off.

He took the woman’s arm and moved over to allow the hotel staff to clean up the mess. She raised a brow at him, her pale blue eyes twinkling.

“One too many?” she asked, nodding at his empty drink.

White-blonde curls tumbled over her shoulders and onto her breasts, and Alex burned to rid her of the black dress every female in the room seemed to be wearing. Even so, there was no chance this lady could disappear in a crowd.

With a chuckle, he dropped the glass onto a waiter’s passing tray. “Actually, someone bumped me from behind. But I’m grateful to that person, all things considered.”

He slid his gaze down her legs and back up again, imagining what could have happened if they had been alone in the room when she’d first approached. He would have raised himself to his knees and skimmed his palms up the length of her thighs, then pushed that short skirt aside and found out if she was wearing something from Insomnia’s latest collection.

Mesh and lace, black and red, however mixed or matched, those styles currently defined the bestselling items at Miami’s most popular lingerie chain. Alex knew firsthand that his mystery woman looked hot enough to melt a mirror in whatever lingerie she chose, and she tasted even better underneath.

She licked her lips at his innuendo, then sipped her glass of red wine before walking it back to the bar, knowing he would follow her. He’d follow her to Timbuktu if it meant he would have a chance to run his hands over every inch of her skin and end up deep inside her lithe, naked body.

“So.” She faced him and took his tie between her thumb and forefinger, slowly massaging the silk. “Are you finished playing Mr. Importance? I feel like getting out of here.”

“Not tired of me yet?”

“Are you kidding? This is my Christmas morning. The one day a year that I get everything I want.”

Alex groaned softly as she circled her fingers around his wrist and leaned close to him so he could smell the hint of vanilla on her skin. He lowered his voice. “You know, I still don’t know your name, or what you do at this company.”

“You like it that way.”

“Well, it is…intriguing.”

“The only reason I know your name is because your daddy always preaches to the press about the upcoming exchange of power. You guys ever going to finish that deal?”

He rolled his eyes. His father liked to tell everyone that he proudly anticipated his son’s rise to the executive position. In reality, William Vaughn’s excuses for postponing his retirement grew more far-fetched every week.

The last thing Alex wanted to think about was the long, hard fight he’d have to endure for his promotion. He raked his fingers through those soft curls and whispered in the woman’s ear. “If you didn’t know my name, what would you scream every year?”

She threw her head back and laughed, a pleasant sound that revealed the relaxing effect of the wine and her readiness to move the celebration to his hotel suite. “You’re going for a world record, Vaughn. Can you make me scream your name four years in a row?”

“I can, and I’m willing to prove it.”