Only for You
Page 1
Praise for
Exposed to You
“Smoking hot.”
—Dear Author
“An intensely heated and emotionally satisfying story on many levels. Not only is there a good amount of sizzling raw sex, but Beth Kery also allows us to get to know the soul of the characters . . . A deeply meaningful erotic love story.”
—Fiction Vixen
“A story with five-alarm sex scenes AND deep, thought-provoking emotions.”
—Under the Covers Book Blog
“With the wealth of erotic stories popping up everywhere, Kery dethrones them all with her latest—a real eye-opener. This well-written story is original, refreshing and hot enough to generate third-degree burns.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Great characters, a believable HEA and hot sex. What else could you want from a romance novel?”
—HeroesandHeartbreakers.com
Addicted to You
“A fabulous, sizzling-hot friends-to-lovers story—you’ll be addicted from page one!”
—Julie James, New York Times bestselling author of It Happened One Wedding
“Explosive and intense.”
—Lisa Marie Rice, author of I Dream of Danger
“Smoking-hot sex and a great emotional connection between the characters . . . It definitely delivers.”
—Dear Author
“Wow. Just wow.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“A well-rounded plot, plenty of steamy sex scenes and a complicated romance between fascinating characters.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Really packs an emotional punch.”
—Smexy Books
Because You Are Mine series
BECAUSE YOU ARE MINE (ALSO AVAILABLE IN SERIAL FORMAT)
WHEN I’M WITH YOU (ALSO AVAILABLE IN SERIAL FORMAT)
BECAUSE WE BELONG
SINCE I SAW YOU
Titles by Beth Kery
WICKED BURN
DARING TIME
SWEET RESTRAINT
PARADISE RULES
RELEASE
EXPLOSIVE
One Night of Passion series
ADDICTED TO YOU (WRITING AS BETHANY KANE)
EXPOSED TO YOU
ONLY FOR YOU
One Night of Passion Specials
BOUND TO YOU
CAPTURED BY YOU
ON THE JOB
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
Copyright © 2014 by Beth Kery.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-61531-7
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kery, Beth.
Only for you / Beth Kery. — Berkley trade paperback edition.
pages ; cm
ISBN: 978-0-425-26614-4
1. Makeup artists—Fiction. 2. Motion picture actors and actresses—Fiction. 3. Hollywood (Los Angeles, Calif.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3611.E79O55 2014
813'.6—dc23
2014021163
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley trade paperback edition / December 2014
Cover photograph of key and background © Benjamin Harte/Arcangel Images.
Cover design by George Long.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my editor, Leis Pederson, from the bottom of my heart for putting up with all my author angst and worry about my babies. She’s stuck by me through thick and thin, highs and lows, laughter and inevitable frustrations. I think the stories are better for it too. Mahlet, you are the most awesome beta reader . . . romance reader par excellence in general. My deepest gratitude for your selfless, smart assistance and feedback. Ed, thank you as always for standing by me, a solid, steady, reassuring touchstone. You not only help me with all those pesky business questions and weird, mundane writing queries, like . . . “what’s this thing that surrounds a door called?” but you are a part of every single one of my heroes. Last and most importantly, thank you, reader, for having faith in the books and characters. You are amazing.
Contents
Praise for Beth Kery
Titles by Beth Kery
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Epilogue
About the Author
One
TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO
His final project for the benefit ball cast admiring looks at her many reflections as she sashayed out of the room. Not without good reason, Seth acknowledged with wry amusement as he glanced at the Alien Ice Queen’s ass gloved in a clinging blue gown. The starlet paused in the act of appraising herself from all angles.
She had ample opportunity to adore herself in the luxurious but garish dressing room where they stood. No less than a dozen gilded mirrors adorned the suite, including a large one on the ceiling. Daphne DeGarro, the heiress-turned-reality-show-star and hostess for the Cancer Research Benefit Ball, had opened several rooms in her Hollywood Hills mansion that night for the transformation of her guests. She’d reserved her risqué, decadently decorated dressing room for Seth, however. Earlier that evening, Daphne had led him to it with a sly grin. Seth had made her his first project, turning her into a magnificent, sexually flagrant Marie Antoinette, his creative instincts sparked by the woman’s opulent bad taste and brassy beauty. The benefit ball for cancer research was now in full swing in an almost equally gaudy ballroom and downstairs terrace.
Seth was the last special effects makeup artist to finish. He was weary. He’d done his part for tonight. Between him and fourteen of his regular staff and two eager interns from Hightower Special Effects Stud
io, they’d completed nearly two hundred characters in costume and makeup. The price of their labor, in addition to the use of Hightower’s extensive costume-and-makeup collection, was a hefty donation to the Cancer Research Fund by each client. Daphne DeGarro might have been in love with herself, but she was shrewd. Hollywood players would pay a sizable chunk of cash to be turned into a fearsome fairy-tale creature or glamorous fantasy character for one magical night.
Perhaps the young actress noticed his gaze lingering on her backside in one of the many mirrored reflections, because she turned to him.
“Aren’t you attending the ball, Seth?” she asked.
“No, I’m done for the night,” Seth replied, briskly zipping up an airbrush case and returning it to his kit. Realizing he still had on the tinted glasses he wore when he did an application, he shoved them impatiently back on his head.
“That’s all it was then? Work?” the Ice Queen asked. He paused warily, hearing the hint of seduction in her tone. She’d drunk too much champagne while he was doing her application. He glanced up. She was arching her back slightly, highlighting her ample, airbrush-frosted breasts beneath the low-cut gown. Earlier, he had offered to glue the edges of the gown—her nipples were bound to pop over the edge at any moment—but his offer had been flatly refused. Apparently the possibility was something she hoped for rather than dreaded.
She was a temptation, all right, but one he’d grown well accustomed to denying himself. Seth liked women a lot.
Just not the actress variety.
He resumed packing his kit methodically. He knew firsthand the level of infatuation a woman could get for a man who could turn her into a breathtaking vision. He tried to recall her name, but quickly gave up. What difference did it make? Seth avoided women possessed of fame fever. This particular ingenue was burning with it, which had perhaps been his inspiration for the Ice Queen makeup.
She could use a little something to cool her down.
“No. Not just work. It’s my art as well,” he replied levelly, sliding some paints into his kit.
“I hope you’re pleased with your creation then. I know I am. I feel so honored to have been touched by the best,” the Ice Queen said tremulously. When he didn’t look up, because he had a damn strong suspicion she was feathering her fingertips across the top of her breasts and peekaboo nipples, he heard a resigned sigh.
“I see. All the rumors about you not fraternizing with the talent are true then. Shame.”
The door closed.
He exhaled in relief and shut his kit briskly in preparation to leave as well. Eight members of his staff had volunteered to stay and assist with prosthetic and costume removal after the ball. A delivery service had been hired to pick up all the costumes and gear left at Daphne’s house tomorrow.
He paused next to one of several iced buckets of champagne in the room and poured himself half a glass. He rarely drank champagne—or any alcohol, really. He’d developed a dislike for the stuff at an early age after seeing firsthand its effects on his father and two uncles in his home village, Isleta Pueblo. It had been a long, trying night though. Usually a script and his creative instincts drove his work. Tonight, he’d been driven largely by vanity and questionable taste.
He drained the flute, finding the cold, dry liquid cleared his mental cobwebs better than he would have expected.
He caught his reflection in one of the gilded mirrors, a tall man holding a delicate flute in a large hand. Next to the feminine flounces and pastel shades of green, gold and blue décor that surrounded him, he looked especially out of place, a bull in a china shop . . . a savage in the midst of contrived artifice.
It was the paradox of his life that those unlikely, big hands contributed to the subtlety, artistry and nuance of Hollywood’s grand façade.
He couldn’t wait to leave. He set down the flute. A small amount of peace and a large steak were awaiting him at home. Even though it was the weekend and almost nine thirty in the evening, it was early for him to be taking off. He was looking forward to a little R and R.
He swung open the door to the hallway and halted abruptly at the sight of a young woman’s pale, startled face—a face he definitely did not know. In the distance, however, he heard a voice he recognized all too well.
Shit. Cecilia.
“Why is she playing coy?” Cecilia was saying, sounding out of breath. “Half my client list is here tonight. I haven’t got time to play hide-and-seek with her. What makes your girlfriend think she’s so important?”
“I told you,” a man said in a bored tone. “She claims I’m not her boyfriend anymore.”
The girl stared at Seth with huge green eyes. At first, he thought she was stunned. He quickly realized she was dazed, but also nearly panicked. Reacting purely on instinct, he reached for her hand and pulled her into the room with him. She came without hesitation, spinning into him in a motion that bizarrely struck Seth like a dance move between familiar partners. Her back was to his front as he reached around her and silently shut the door. He could tell by the sound of their footsteps that Cecilia and her companion had rounded the corner of the hallway in the distance. Very gently, he turned the lock. His fingers lingered on the metal while his other hand continued to clasp the woman’s hand in the vicinity of her waist.
For several seconds, they just stood there, utterly still as he half-embraced her, staring at the door and listening. He heard the sound of door after door opening and shutting as Cecilia and the man carried out their search.
“What have you done now?” Cecilia Arends, one of the most successful agents in Hollywood, continued. Cecilia was smart and savvy. Seth and she had gone out a few times. Cecilia had made it clear she wanted more than a few dates. He regrettably didn’t return the interest, and he had been friendly but frank with her about it. Cecilia was way too attached to her cell phone and doing business, even while they were on a date. When Seth took off from work, he relished his private life, his freedom and anonymity. Cecilia had infringed on his privacy via her celebrity deal making while at candlelit dinners—or finally—during an intimate moment following sex. He’d ended things with her the next day.
He hadn’t been avoiding Cecilia—until tonight, that is—but he hadn’t been seeking her out either.
“Did she catch you at it with another girl?” Cecilia was saying. “I’ve told you all along Gia won’t stand for your antics. She’s too smart for her own good and values her opinion far too much for someone so young. Good God,” Cecilia added in a beleaguered, distracted tone. “Look at this décor.” A door snapped shut. “Who does Daphne DeGarro think she is, the Whore of Babylon? You’d think with that much money, she could buy herself some taste.”
The searchers’ footsteps drew nearer. Instead of being concerned, Seth looked down at the girl distractedly. She possessed gleaming, golden brown hair that was gathered at her neck in a thick braid. He unlocked his gaze from the way the light hit the richly colored strands, and he watched dispassionately as the doorknob turned. His inner elbow pressed against the young woman’s shoulder and neck. She was cuddled against the middle of his body like a pea in a pod, the pressure of her against him slight, but . . . nice. He sensed her tensing and holding her breath as the doorknob rattled. He, on the other hand, inhaled deeply. The clean, fresh scent of soap and tangerines tickled his nose. Sexual awareness flickered down his spine, the charged, wholly unexpected scenario perhaps amplifying the sensation.
The knob twisted back into place.
“It’s locked. Let’s go back down to the party. Maybe she’s turned up there again,” the male said in an irritated tone.
When the voices began to fade, the young woman turned and looked over her shoulder. She stared at his face as if rapt. The silence stretched. She blinked and seemed to come back to herself.
“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “I didn’t think I’d run into anyone I knew tonight.”
She shrugged uneasily under the costume armor she wore. A light pink stain spread on the cheek turned toward him. Realizing she was still sheltered by his body, he lowered his arm from the door reluctantly and straightened. She stepped to the side, but he noticed with a sense of satisfaction that she didn’t move far off. He’d liked having her next to him. He dropped her hand and scowled slightly.
His gaze lowered over her with growing interest. She’d been costumed as Joan of Arc. Whoever had done her makeup had been smart enough to apply hardly any paint. The typecasting was perfect. The girl had the intelligent gaze and radiant, fresh glow one might imagine the virgin warrior to possess . . . although Seth somehow doubted a saint would possess such a pink, delectable mouth. There was an interesting tilt to her light green eyes; beautifully shaped, high cheekbones added a hint of regal haughtiness to her otherwise girl-next-door pretty face. He found it striking, the unexpected and exotic combined with all that rosy, creamy freshness. There was something very frank and honest about her gaze. He’d have said she possessed a tomboy quality if he didn’t find her to be utterly feminine.
“It’s actually Tommy who is responsible for the search party,” she said, interrupting his unexpected and increasingly lustful thoughts. Never let it be said that one night you might randomly open a door and see an incredible, singular woman standing there.
“So you’re not one of Cecilia’s clients?” he pressed.
Something flickered across her face. She shook her head adamantly. “No. I came with my old college roommate. She’s an intern for—”
She abruptly halted her rapid, anxious speech, lush lips falling open. Eyes the color of a newly opened leaf lowered slowly over his face and body, and then widened. “Are . . . are you Seth Hightower?” she asked in a strangled voice.
“Yes.”
White teeth scraped across her lower lip. Seth felt his body tingle and tighten. Her mouth was a hundred times the temptation of the Ice Queen’s flagrantly displayed ass and breasts.