Kiss Talent Agency Boxed Set (Books 1-6)

by Virna DePaul

  Her hands are all over me, and her fingers trail up my spine underneath my shirt. I just kiss her even more. I can’t get enough.

  But to my annoyance, she pulls away. “So you have nothing to say to me?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  She huffs, about to push me away, but I hold her close. “I love you, too,” I murmur into her ear. She shivers.

  “Do you? Even after the terrible things I said?”

  “Even then. But you still owe me.”

  She gasps as I grab her ass and press her against my hardened cock, desperate for her now. I tangle my fingers in her hair and it takes everything in me not to have her right here in my studio. I wonder if we could manage a quickie without Megan noticing. Then again, that would assume Heather could keep quiet, which is not something she’s ever been good at.

  “I love you, sweetheart. I don’t know when it happened, but it’s not something that’s ever going to leave me. You can say whatever you want about me, but my love for you is for eternity.” I caress her cheek.

  Her chin wobbles. “I don’t deserve that kind of love. I was so awful to you.”

  “You said those things because you were scared. I don’t know what that ex did to you, but give me his address and I’ll happily pummel the shit out of him.” I kiss her one last time before pulling her down to sit again. “I don’t care if you want to pursue your career or stay at home or have fifty cats that you take around the neighborhood in strollers. Whatever you do, I’ll love you for it.”

  She sniffles. “I was so convinced that there was no way I could have a relationship and my career that I decided I could only have the career.” Smiling through her tears, she takes my hand. “But I was wrong. I know that now. When I read that apology from Fiona, I couldn’t believe it. How did you do it?”

  I grin again. “It took some work, let me tell you. Suffice to say that Fiona won’t be working in this industry anytime soon.”

  Heather places her chin in her hand, an expectant expression on her face. “Tell me everything,” she demands.

  “Well, I contacted one of my photographer friends who’d worked with Fiona but had had issues with her. After much persuasion, I got him to admit that Fiona had refused to pay him for his services for months, and when she finally did pay, there were a lot of things that seemed suspicious about it. At any rate, after some digging, we both discovered that she’d committed fraud, and using that, I got her to admit she’d stolen your designs.”

  Heather looks amazed, and I’ll admit, it’s nice to see that she’s impressed. “How did she even know about my designs?”

  “My only guess is that she knew I was working with you and investigated on her own.” I shrug. “She tried to get back into my good graces, but when I told her no, she got pissed and took out her revenge by screwing you over.” I squeeze her fingers. “So really, if you think about it, some of it is my fault to begin with.”

  “No, it’s not. It was Fiona completely. The fact that you got her to apologize so publicly…” Heather sniffles again. “That means I can use those designs again. I won’t have to start all over. The thought of Fiona profiting off of my ideas was such a terrible feeling. Thank you for doing that. I can’t ever repay you, but thank you.” Her eyes widen suddenly, and then she says, “She must’ve stolen them when she came to my store. I noticed her over at the counter—I could have left my sketchbook out. She had her phone in her hand. Probably took pictures of my designs then.” She shakes her head. “God, I’m an idiot!”

  All I can do at this point is kiss her. I want to tell her that she never has to repay me because I love her, but I’m making up for lost time. I need her in my arms. I need to feel her against me, knowing that her heart is mine.

  I reach for her so she can straddle my lap. While I kiss her, I reach underneath her blouse to touch her bare skin. She shivers at the contact. I trace her spine, feeling each vertebra, my fingers then dipping below the waistband of her jeans. She rocks her hips, and the heat of her almost makes me lose my mind.

  I growl before leaning down to scatter kisses across her chest. Unbuttoning her blouse, I finally free her from her bra to capture a nipple in my mouth. She arches, letting out a wordless cry as I suck one nipple and then the next, playing with each breast in turn. I’ve missed this so much that I know there’s no way in hell I’ll ever let her go again.

  This woman is mine—forever and always.

  As I’m about to unbutton her jeans and my own pants, I hear someone clearing their throat. Looking up, I see Megan in my doorway. She’s looking at the ceiling, a flush coloring her cheeks.

  “Your one o’clock is here,” is all she says by way of explanation before exiting.

  Heather and I stare at each other. Both of us are breathing hard, and her breasts are bare in front of me.

  That’s when we both start laughing.

  Epilogue

  Heather

  “Look what I got this morning.”

  Caleb hands me the brand-new issue of Bella, and I can’t help but let out a sound that’s a cross between a yell and a squeal. I flip through the glossy pages until I find our shoot—our second shoot together—and I almost start crying.

  After we got back together, Caleb and I were inseparable. The first shoot we did together skyrocketed my business and his own photography company into spheres neither of us could’ve ever imagined. I received so many invitations for shows and shoots and interviews that I had to hire an agent simply to handle them all—I ended up signing with Owen Kiss, of Kiss Talent Agency, the charming and extremely handsome man (Caleb teasingly growls at me whenever I say that) who already represented Caleb. We both received awards that year as well, and Caleb has gotten to work with some of the best photographers in the business.

  Now it’s a year later, and our second shoot in Bella has been released. It’s better than the first one, although I’d be lying if I said we didn’t butt heads a few times over the direction of it. But our arguments always result in better art because we’re always pushing each other to do our best.

  Our relationship is nothing like I feared.

  In fact, it’s better than I could’ve possibly imagined.

  “Oh Caleb, look at this,” I say with a sigh. I show him the photo of the models wearing my two favorite gowns. “Seeing it in print never fails to be amazing.”

  He grins. “It helps that you have such a great photographer.”

  I roll my eyes. “Cocky still. But then again, how could I go on knowing that you weren’t still a pain in the ass?”

  In revenge, he slaps my ass, which makes me laugh.

  Caleb and I laugh all the time. We can’t stop laughing, probably because we’re so happy. After we got back together, we were unsure where we’d live, since I was based in LA and he was based in New York. With some compromises, Caleb decided to move to LA while continuing to do some work in New York. He also knew that forcing me to fly across the country on a regular basis simply wasn’t in the cards, and when I dared to suggest that I could try to travel more, he vetoed that suggestion and wouldn’t hear of me mentioning it again.

  We live not far from my store in an apartment that gives us an amazing view of the hills. I’ll admit that I was a bit freaked out to move in with Caleb—what if we hated each other?—but despite a few hiccups here and there, mostly involving benign things like taking out the trash, we’ve been ridiculously happy.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you!” I clap my hands. “I got a call from Rebecca, and she talked to me about a show featuring my designs, and it would be in Paris during fashion week. It’s not official yet, though.”

  Caleb’s eyes widen. “That’s amazing, sweetheart. Holy shit. Paris, though?”

  I know what he’s thinking. How am I going to manage a flight that’s over twelve hours? I swallow against a suddenly dry throat thinking about it.

  “I know, the flight there. If I take enough Xanax, I should be okay. I also thought we could fly to New York fi
rst, stay there for a bit, and then fly on to Paris. Break it up into two flights.”

  He gives me skeptical look. “I’m not sure two flights will be better than one.” He touches my cheek with a tender gesture. “But you know I’ll be with you the entire way, right? Even if you end up puking on my shoes.”

  “I’ve never puked on your shoes!” I slap him on the arm.

  He smiles, leaning down to kiss me. “Nah, I’d keep you distracted. We need to work on becoming members of the Mile High Club. You’d be concentrating so hard on not screaming my name that any fears of flying will fly out the window.”

  I snort, but my body heats at his words. Caleb knows he can get me hot and bothered with just a touch or a word, and he uses that to his advantage. Luckily, I know I can get him bothered just as easily. My supply of low-cut tops has only multiplied since we got together.

  “I also have some news for you,” he says against my neck.

  I close my eyes, enjoying his warm mouth kissing my throat. “What is that?” I whisper.

  “Fiona Taylor has officially retired from the business.”

  My eyes fly open. “Really?”

  “Really. Granted, she all but disappeared after the letter, but now she’s decided to move to her house in the Bahamas and stay there for the foreseeable future.”

  “What a terrible fate for her,” I mutter. “She gets to steal designs and ends up living on an island for the rest of her days, not working.”

  “True, but she’s been blackballed from the industry. She’ll never work in fashion again. Her label is dead, her stores have all closed, and any of her clothes are now at Goodwill, collecting dust.” He kisses my shoulder. “I think that’s pretty good revenge against a woman who was once considered royalty in the business but who lied and cheated.”

  I make a noncommittal noise. Okay, part of me wanted some greater punishment for Fiona, but at least she’s no longer part of the fashion world. She lost all of the respect she’d garnered over the years just because she wanted to screw me—and Caleb—over. I have to admit, there’s something kind of stupidly tragic about that.

  “Well, at least she can’t get her claws into you again.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Because you’re all mine, Caleb Johnson.”

  He gives me a heated glance. “That goes without saying. And you’re all mine, sweetheart.” He cups my ass, pressing me against his burgeoning erection. “Speaking of which, how about we enjoy ourselves this afternoon?”

  I consider it, biting my lip, but I have a ton of work to do. But Caleb is anything if not persistent, and when he cups my sex, I can’t help but moan. How does he do this? Inflame me with only a touch?

  I dig my fingernails into his shoulders as he rubs me through my jeans. I moan, long and low, but then my phone rings. The screen lights up with the name Rebecca Harris on it.

  “I have to get that.” I give Caleb an apologetic glance.

  “It better be important.” He growls, wrapping an arm around me as I pick up my phone. “Although I have a hard time imagining anything is more important than this…”

  I stifle a gasp as I answer my phone and Caleb cups my breast at the same time. I pinch his arm to get him to stop; I can practically feel him smiling against my neck.

  “Rebecca.” I hope she doesn’t notice how breathy I sound. “How are you?”

  “Heather, I’m well. Is this a good time?”

  Considering that Caleb is now rolling my nipple between his fingers and beginning to unbutton my jeans, it most definitely is not a good time. I slap his hand away from unzipping my jeans, but he just laughs softly.

  “It’s fine,” I say. “How can I help you?”

  “I spoke with the necessary people, and I was able to get the green light to begin planning your show in Paris during fashion week. It’s definitely happening.”

  Caleb takes this moment as I’m listening to Rebecca talk to unzip my jeans in a deft move before reaching underneath my panties. I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood so I don’t cry out.

  “That’s wonderful. Thank you so much for doing this.” I make a squeaky sound when Caleb brushes my clit with his thumb.

  “Are you all right, Heather? You sound out of breath.”

  I try to move away from Caleb, but his arm is like an iron band around me. And then when he begins rubbing my clit in earnest, I almost drop my phone.

  “I’m fine. Totally fine. I just got back from a long jog,” I blather.

  Caleb takes this to mean that he should thrust a finger inside me. I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan.

  “Well, I’ll let you go, then. I’ll send over all of the details via Catherine in a few hours.”

  “Thank you, Rebecca. Bye.” I hang up, tossing my phone onto the table before elbowing Caleb in his side.

  He lets me go, but only to turn me around so I’m looking up at him.

  “You are the most obnoxious, pain in the ass…” The words melt away from my mouth when he kneels in front of me, pulling my jeans and panties down in one go before fastening his mouth on me.

  After that, I pretty much forget all about Rebecca and Paris. All I can see and think and feel is Caleb.

  Now we’re lying on the floor of our apartment, breathing hard, our various clothes scattered everywhere.

  “So I’m assuming you’re going to Paris?” Caleb brushes a strand of hair from my forehead.

  My brain’s too foggy and my body’s too consumed with pleasure to understand his question at first. Paris? Why are we talking about Paris?

  “Oh!” I jolt upward. “Yes! Caleb, I’m going to have a show in Paris! Can you believe it?”

  “Yes, because you’re amazing.” He draws me down for a kiss that makes my bones melt into the floor.

  “You’ll come with me, right?” I ask. “I’ll need you there.”

  “Why would I be anywhere else?”

  Before I can respond, he gets up to dig through the pocket of his jeans. I gaze at him, wondering why he felt the need to empty out his pockets right now.

  He sees me looking at him. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “What’s this about?”

  “Close them.”

  “Fine, fine.” My vision goes dark, and I hear him sit down next to me again.

  “Okay, open them.”

  I’m not really sure what I was expecting. Flowers? Chocolates? When I open my eyes and see a diamond ring sparkling in a velvet box, I gasp.

  “What is that?” I look down. “I’m naked, Caleb!”

  “You’re most beautiful to me that way.” He kneels before me then, ring in hand. “Heather Talina Flint. Love of my life. The most talented, wonderful, stubborn, pain in my neck designer. The woman I adore above all else in the world. Will you marry me?”

  Tears blur my vision. I can barely see Caleb’s face now, or the ring. My heart’s pounding.

  “Oh, Caleb.” I wipe my eyes, but the tears won’t stop coming. “Of course I’ll marry you. Yes. Yes!”

  He grins and then pulls me into a kiss that’s explosive. The ring is almost forgotten, but I draw away to get a good look at it. Caleb removes it from the box and places it on my finger. It sparkles in the light, and it’s so beautiful it hurts.

  “It’s gorgeous. Thank you. I love it.” I kiss him again. “I love you. My stubborn, cocky, handsome, brilliant boyfriend.” I smile. “Fiancé, I should say.”

  “You’re damn right.” He kisses my hand. “Fiancé, and then husband. Because we’re going to live happily ever after, sweetheart.”

  I nod before throwing my arms around his neck. “Of course we are. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Now, how about we go celebrate in that bed of ours?” Caleb says before scooping to pick me up into his arms, carrying me into our bedroom as I laugh out of sheer joy.

  Book Description

  Marissa

  Appearance is everything to my upper-crust mother, but when she insists I take back my pedigreed-but-c
heating ex? I’d rather stab myself with a salad fork. So I blurt out I’m dating someone new. Someone like…that smoking-hot, vaguely familiar guy across the restaurant, who could be the next James Bond.

  Turns out he’s the star of my favorite, cheesy, sci-fi soap opera. (Don’t judge me.) One minute I’m fantasizing about Borg and his green-hued abs. The next, Simon Dale is making me an offer my sex-starved body can’t refuse.

  Simon

  I’m up for a breakout movie role that’ll launch me off the B-list, but I don’t need a script to read the scene between Marissa and her mum. Even though I’m a London gutter rat who never rubbed elbows with a Royal, I easily slip into the role of Marissa’s doting boyfriend. Why? I need a favor in return— a steady girlfriend, just long enough to convince the producers I’ve changed my wild ways.

  Trouble is, I’m going all Method on this relationship—and close to losing the one thing that could break me. My heart.

  1

  Marissa

  When I tell my mom I broke up with my hedge-fund investor, Princeton-alum, cheating and lying scumbag fiancé Charles, she promptly bursts into tears.

  “You. Can’t. Be. Serious!” she says, her words elongated for emphasis as if there is a period after each word. She pulls a hanky from her Dooney & Bourke handbag and dabs at her eyes while making loud, hiccupping sounds that cause a number of people in the restaurant at La Rouge Country Club to crane their heads to our table. “Why. Would. You. Do. Such. A. Thing!”

  I wonder if I can kill myself right here and now using a salad fork. “I caught him cheating, Mom. Do you really want me to marry a guy who cheats?”

  She sniffs. “Men will be men, Marissa. Your father—”

  “You two divorced twice, Mom,” I point out. Currently she and Dad are married again, but if marriage was all peaches and cream, they wouldn’t be flipping it on and off like a light switch, would they? There was a time in my life when I’d blamed myself for their unhealthy dynamic. After all, I’d been a trying teenager to say the least. Truth be told, I’d been wild—I’d drank, experimented with marijuana, hung out with one bad boy after another. It wasn’t until my latest boyfriend had almost killed me while driving intoxicated that I’d come to my senses. I’d vowed right then and there that as dramatic as my mom could be, it would be in everyone’s best interest to take her sensible advice to heart. After all, I clearly couldn’t trust myself.