Misbehaving Curves: A Boss Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  “So if I say that I love you, that’s it?”

  “That’s it,” he confirmed with a cocky grin. “I’ll spend some time courting you like a proper gentleman and then you’ll say yes when I ask you to move in with me, or when I ask to move in with you.”

  “Wow, big plans.” I couldn’t stop smiling as hope and love took flight in my heart.

  “Really big. After a few months of living in sin, we’ll pretend to succumb to Mom’s pressure and I’ll ask you to be my wife.”

  I smiled so wide my cheeks ached and I didn’t care. “And I’ll say yes.”

  “What else could you say to the man you love?” His lips brushed against mine so gently I gasped in anticipation of his next one. “You’ll say yes.”

  “And then,” I asked against his lips, my breath and his mingling together until they became one.

  “And then we’ll live happily ever after.” Then his lips were on mine, devouring me as he poured his love into every swipe of his lips, every stroke of his tongue. It was the perfect kiss, the exact way a woman should be kissed after finding out her love wasn’t in vain.

  I pulled back with a breathless smile. “I love you Ben Rutherford.”

  “Finally,” he roared and kissed me again, harder, but just as slow until my whole body was on fire. “I love you too, Joss Callahan.”

  It felt good to hear but it felt better to know that it was true, that I could feel the love down to my bones. And I knew my heart had made the right choice because Ben wanted to prove to me that his love was true. That it could be trusted.

  I was ready for what came next, whatever it was.

  The End.

  Preview: Curves for the Single Dad

  Single Dad Chris Jacobs was too hot for my peace of mind.

  And he was too much of a jerk for me to lust over.

  His hotness was right on par with his jerkiness, neither of which I needed in my life.

  So I put as much distance between us as I could.

  Until my mind focused on something other than his thick brown waves, and those hazel eyes that were mostly golden.

  Tara

  I was running late. Again. Only tonight wasn’t just our regular girls’ night out, it was my birthday. Gretchen, my older sister, wouldn’t care that I had a perfectly good reason for being late, not even if it was because someone had stolen Mr. Blakely’s truck and left it running on the side of the highway. It was my responsibility as a law enforcement officer to make sure the citizens of Pilgrim were well taken care of.

  But still, it was a night to celebrate my birthday, so I rushed home after returning Mr. Blakely’s truck to shower and quickly change into something more appropriate than my Pilgrim Township PD uniform. Even though the brown color did make my green eyes pop. But I knew Gretchen, Eva and Sophie wouldn’t see it that way, so I put on a pair of jeans that hugged thighs with a tad too much jiggle, but made my extremely round backside look shapely. I paired it with a silky green top that I found on sale on my last trip to visit my cousin Ry and my aunt Betty in Tulip, and my favorite—okay, only—nude pumps. I was only fifteen minutes late, so I decided to take a few more to avoid any comments about how I could have at least tried with my appearance.

  Sisters were exhausting. So were female friends.

  I loved them, I really did. But my boss Xander and my other male colleagues didn’t give a damn if I had on heels or make up. They probably wouldn’t even notice if I let my D cups roam braless. A quick slick of pale pink lip gloss, a little product to make my brown hair look more touchable than wild and scary, and some mascara and I was ready to go.

  I hoped.

  You could never be too sure if you were prepared to celebrate your birthday, especially with close friends and family. But I was as ready as I would ever be to admit that at 31, I was officially over thirty.

  And single.

  And not a detective. Yet.

  I was working on it though. Sort of.

  That’s what I told myself as I stood outside my favorite Mexican restaurant and prepared to go inside and face the revelry.

  “It’s kind of hard to start a birthday celebration without the birthday girl.”

  Mara’s droll tone turned my head away from the tables filled with laughing couples and groups of people having a good time, to her all-seeing honey brown eyes.

  “You’d be surprised.” I noticed she wasn’t alone. “Hey Joss, how’s it going?”

  The soccer coach beamed a wide smile that seemed so genuine, and I envied that about her. “Happy birthday, Tara. Hope it’s been a good one?”

  I shrugged. Were birthdays ever any fun after you turned twenty-one? I mean, did anyone actually enjoy turning twenty-five or thirty? Probably not, but they loved their circle, and pretended to enjoy it. Just like I will.

  “So far so good, I suppose. Thanks for coming to celebrate.”

  “Hope that’s okay, I figured the more the merrier, and Joss here has done a crap job at making friends.”

  That was a laughable statement coming from a woman who made it practically impossible to get to know her.

  “It’s more than okay. An extra single person will take some of the pressure off me. I hope.” After a quick glance inside at the table decorated with balloons and streamers meant for me, I pasted a big smile on my face. “Let’s do this, ladies.”

  “That’s the mediocre level of excitement I was looking for.” Usually Mara’s sarcasm put a smile on my face, today I just shook my head. Inside the restaurant was busy and loud, two things I loved about it, because it made it difficult for gossipers and matchmakers to be heard. Or to hear. “Hey girlies, look who I found.”

  At the sight of me, the table went silent and then erupted in birthday wishes. “I was wondering if you might fabricate a work emergency to get out of celebrating.” Leave it up to my big sister to make it awkward right off the bat.

  “And miss out on free tacos and quesadillas? I would never, not even if it meant being harassed by my loved ones.” With a playful eyeroll I took a seat at the decorated spot, not at the head of the table, but sandwiched right in the middle. “Thanks for coming, girls.”

  “Happy Birthday,” they all sang at once. If it hadn’t been so off-key I might have thought they’d practiced it.

  “Let’s get a drink for the birthday girl!” Olive called out, rubbing her ever growing baby bump, a wide smile on her face. “You can drink for me tonight too, Tara.”

  “Um, I have to work in the morning, so one strawberry margarita will be my limit.”

  “Boo!” Mara jeered, cupping her hands just to make sure the word carried. “It’s your birthday, and I’m buying you at least two shots of tequila.”

  “One shot and one drink,” I bargained as the waitress made her way to our table.

  “Two rounds of shot for everyone but the mommy to be,” Mara said to the waitress with a wicked smile. “And two pitchers of margaritas, strawberry and lime. Thanks.”

  Eva rolled her eyes. “Did you forget something Mara?”

  She blinked innocently, big brown eyes somehow still laughing. “Did I? What?”

  Eva shook her head, ignoring Sophie, Olive and Joss’ laughter. “Double nachos, stacked to the brim. Fresh Salsa and mini tacos to start, please.”

  “Now that food and drinks are out of the way,” Gretchen said a little louder than necessary, making me wonder just how early she’d showed up at the restaurant, “it’s time to talk about the birthday girl.”

  “Not necessary,” I said quickly. “You all showed up and that’s enough for me.”

  “That’s not how birthdays work, Tara. We’re here to celebrate you, to let you know that we’re happy you were born, and that this world wouldn’t be the same without you in it, keeping us safe.” Sophie’s kind words didn’t surprise me, but the sting of emotion behind my eyes did. Thankfully the drinks arrived a moment later, and I buried my face in a wide margarita glass, gulping away some of my emotions.

  “Thank you,
Sophie.”

  “Yeah, yeah, we all love you.” Gretchen waved a dismissive hand in Sophie’s direction, an amused smile on her face. “So much so that we spent our hard-earned money to show you just how much.”

  I groaned. “I specifically said no gifts, Gretchen.”

  “Of course you did. Everyone says that, but I know you didn’t mean it, because it would be awkward to show up without a gift. So, it’s gift time!” She clapped her hands excitedly and did a little hip shake in her seat. “Who wants to go first?”

  “I guess you do,” Mara said, her words heavy with sarcasm.

  Gretchen was, as usual, completely unfazed by the sarcasm and she produced a beautiful gold envelope with a smile as bright as the Texas sun. “I’ll save mine for last, smart ass.” She stuck a playful tongue out and Mara. “You go first.”

  “Happily.” Mara stood and pulled a crinkled purple envelope from her back pocket with a smile. “For you, Officer Birthday Girl.”

  “Thanks,” I snickered at the silly nickname and accepted the envelope. When I opened the flap, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you saying my shooting isn’t up to snuff? Because I’ll happily prove you wrong.”

  “Not at all, Rambo. But I heard through the grapevine that it’s an excellent form of stress release. Maybe you’ll head there after leaving this estrogen fest.”

  “Thanks. I just might.” Though the truth was that, so far, the dinner wasn’t as stressful as I’d made it out to be in my head.

  “Happy birthday, Tara.” Sophie stood and set a big silver box in front of me and I held back a groan, knowing it was some article of clothing.

  “Thaaaannnks…” I drew the word out until it was about nine syllables as I opened the box and removed the silvery tissue paper that hid a gorgeous champagne colored dress. “Holy crap, Soph, it’s gorgeous.”

  “Of course it is. And it’s perfectly your size, and will be stunning with your coloring. I hope you enjoy it.” Even when she was being a prim and proper Worthington, it was so much nicer on Sophie than the other rich people I’d come across in my life.

  “I can’t think of a place I could wear this to, but it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Eva said and set her own box in front of me. “Courtesy of me and Olive, who’s too big and too tired to do her own shopping.”

  “Hey! I did the shopping, you just picked it up.” Olive cocked an eyebrow, daring Eva to deny it.

  “Well someone has to pick up the slack,” she shot back with a playful wink.

  I opened the box and gasped. “These are the sexiest shoes I have ever seen, but they don’t exactly go with my uniform,” I joked, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the strappy shoes with the four inch heel that would give me the height I always longed to have. If I had an occasion to wear them.

  Which I didn’t.

  “Well now, isn’t this, what’s the word?” Gretchen tapped her chin theatrically and I felt my stomach roll over. “Fortuitous, that’s it. Isn’t this fortuitous?”

  “What?” I asked, even though I didn’t really want to know.

  “That you’ve got sexy clothes and shoes and no place to wear them.”

  Mara snorted a laugh. “I’m not sure you know what that word means, Gretchen.” A few laughs went around the table, but my sister only rolled her eyes and slid the fancy envelope my way.

  “I absolutely do, Mara. You’ll see.” Gretchen was confident, but rarely was she smug like she was now, and I didn’t like it.

  Not one bit. I opened the envelope slowly, carefully, almost certain whatever it was would bite me, possibly poison me. She didn’t, I thought as I pulled the certificate from the envelope. She wouldn’t. But as my eyes bounced over the words, I knew that she, in fact, would. And had.

  “Gretchen, why?”

  She shrugged, her smile unapologetic. “Because, it’s time. Dickhead left months ago, and you haven’t had even one date since. Not even a blind date. This will kickstart you into your thirties. Properly.”

  “How will a Time for Love gift certificate do all that, Gretch? Huh?” I was annoyed. Frustrated with her beyond belief, but too polite to really show it.

  “Even if your friends don’t find you the one, they will get you out there, in the world, dating again. You are far too beautiful and too vibrant to wilt away all because some jerk didn’t see how great you are. He doesn’t deserve that kind of power over you or your life.”

  “I’m not giving him any power.” Sure, I haven’t dated since we broke up, but I’ve been busy with work.

  “Really? Then when do you take the detective’s exam?”

  “I just missed the last deadline,” I stammered. “I’m working on it and my life. Just because you lucked out in the husband department doesn’t mean that’s what we’re all meant to have.”

  “Bull,” she spat angrily. “You have a plan and you’ve done nothing since dickhead left, almost two years ago. You haven’t dated, which makes it hard as hell to fall in love, which I could forgive if you were moving up the police ladder. Which you aren’t. It’s like he broke you, Tara.”

  Ugh, I hated the idea of that. That he’d not only broken my heart, but maybe he’d broken me. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t. “Fine. Thank you, and I’ll think long and hard about using it.”

  “That’s all I ask,” she said smugly.

  “Don’t worry,” Eva and Sophie said at the same time. “She’ll use it,” Eva finished, her words sounded more like a threat than a promise.

  And I knew, no good could come of this.

  Chris

  “The publisher was happy to fork over that big advance, once I convinced them you had a really good reason for killing off Detective Glockman.” I could hear the smile in my agent, Tom’s voice. But also a question, because everyone thought I’d lost my mind for killing off the man who’d given me wealth and fame, not to mention the ability to take care of my little girl without much help.

  “I did. I was sick of writing Glockman, the stories were getting harder and harder to make interesting. Fifteen books, and it was starting to feel like pulling teeth.” It had taken almost a year to get the final book finished, and that included three months of arguing with Tom, my editor, and even the head of the publishing house’s mystery division. “The book is doing well.”

  “Better than well. Fifteenth week on the bestseller list is incredible Chris, really. Be proud of that. Celebrate it big time. Just please, for the love of all that is sweet and right in this world, tell me you have something good to follow the death of Glockman?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” I knew Tom was itching to get some kind of information on what I was planning next, but torturing him was one of my favorite pass times, since he often played the role of editor, agent, father, assistant and nag-in-chief.

  After a long pause where I sat sketching a photo of my eight year old daughter Lila, bent over her new favorite coloring book.

  “Well? Dammit man, are you gonna make me pull it out of you word by word?”

  Maybe? “That depends, do you have the patience for that?”

  “Fuck no,” he growled and I could hear his hand, or maybe his head, pounding on the big oak desk in his New York apartment. “Just give me the basics. And tell me it’s not romance.”

  A loud laugh escaped, startling Lila who gifted me with a scowl. “It’s not romance, not really. I guess.” The low growl that came down the line put another smile on my face. “It’s a thriller and a mystery, I suppose. A man uses a matchmaker to hunt for women. He gets off on using different disguises to be whatever he needs to be to find the right woman he thinks is guilty of some misstep, lures them in and kills them.”

  It was really just a ghost of an idea that I’d been playing with ever since my buddy Oliver went and fell in love—and then got engaged to—a matchmaker. I need to do a lot of research, both online and in the real world.

  “Seriously?”

  I nodded even though he couldn’t s
ee me, wondering what his tone meant. “Yep. What do you think?”

  “What do I think? What do I think!” Tom had a flair for the dramatic at times, so I sat back in the dining room chair that gave me a view out to the front yard, the living room where Lila was, and the kitchen. “I fucking love it, Chris! I really love it. It’s modern and timely, and that dude sounds like one scary fucker.” Not that I disliked hearing how brilliant and wonderful I was, but my agent tended to go a little overboard. “Get started right away. Your editor is expecting twenty-five thousand words by the end of next month.”

  End of next month? “It’s now near the end of this month,” I reminded him.

  “Exactly. Time to get writing and earn that huge advance.” Tom ended the call before I could tell him that I’d more than earned that advance.

  Still, his words of encouragement put a smile on my face.

  “Why are you smiling, Daddy?”

  I looked up and turned to Lila, who was a perfect blend of her parents with her mother’s honey blond hair and my hazel eyes that were more green and gold than brown. “Because I’m happy. Why are you smiling?”

  She shrugged. “Because you are.”

  That made me laugh. “I’m happy because I figured out what my next series will be. At least I think so.” I hadn’t expected the success that had hit after my third Glockman novel, but it had only grown from there. Now there was a team of people around me who made sure it happened. Every time.

  “What is it?” She put her colored pencils down and gave me her full attention, so eager at the thought that I might share this new story with her like I usually did, minus some significant details of course.

  “Not yet. I need to sit with it a while,” I told her because there was no way in hell I would tell my little girl anything about matchmakers. Between the single mothers from her school and the trio of matchmakers now in our lives, Lila had been dropping hints about wanting a new mom, even if it was only a stepmom.