My Sinful Desire (Sinful Men Book 2)

by Lauren Blakely

  “Yeah, some asshole who owns this house didn’t lock the front door. I was able to wander in and your guard dog greeted me with a big lick,” Colin said with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he petted the dog’s furry black head. Then he looked at me. “You’d think a man who works in the security business would lock his door.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I know you used your key. Don’t even try to pretend that stuff slips by me.”

  Colin grinned widely and held up his key. “Ha. Got you. Where’s Michael?” he asked, looking around.

  “He said he’ll be here soon. Just finishing up some work on this new client deal we signed this week,” I said as I clapped my brother on the back in greeting. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”

  “Good. Busy. Been training for the Badass Triathlon next month.”

  “You are hard-core. Is that the one where you do some crazy rock climbing too?”

  Colin nodded. “Yup. Was up at sunrise on a climb. Gotta go for it after the last time I tried to do it. We all know what happened then.”

  “You’re going to do great this time, man.”

  “I hear you’re busy too these days.” Colin wiggled his eyebrows. “Getting it on with some new lady.”

  I swiveled around to face Shannon. She held up her hands. “Ryan, you had me get her a dress. It’s not a state secret that you’re seeing someone. But I don’t even know her name.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it,” I said, cutting this conversation off at the knees. I missed Sophie like a hungry man misses food, and it had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d seen her. I missed every single thing about her, from her clever banter, to her sexy winks, to her giving heart, to her beautiful body that I wanted to ravage. I’d spent the morning burying myself in work, then in Frisbee time with my dog, then in a long swim in my pool. Now I had some of my favorite people to help keep my mind off the woman who’d nabbed center seat in my brain and my heart.

  A picture of Sophie in her black cherry dress and white sunglasses, inviting me to the gala, popped into my head then, unbidden.

  Tempting and tantalizing, the image of her was like a summons. And I wanted nothing more than to appear before her. Tell her how I felt. Tell her I wanted in her life, not out of it. But I was no good at talking. Despite what my grandma had said, I was no more skilled at opening my heart to a woman this morning than I had been last night.

  I desperately needed the diversion of this game. “Colin, grab a cue and join us. You’re on Brent’s team. Shan, you’re on mine.”

  Shannon arched an eyebrow. “You must really want to win, Ryan. You know I can beat the two of you blindfolded.” She did have a knack for the game. Our dad had been a bit of a pool shark and had taught all of us to play at a young age. Maybe Shannon would help me regain my mojo.

  Shannon handed Colin the remaining bottle, then she grabbed a stick, leaned over the table, narrowed her eyes, and assessed the best angle for the break shot. She pulled back the cue, snapped it seamlessly, and sent the top of the table into motion, balls scattering, with an orange one landing easily in a corner pocket.

  “Nice,” Brent said with an appreciative whistle. “Can’t even get annoyed, because that was such a perfect shot.”

  I pointed my bottle at Brent. “Sucking up to the opposing team—I approve only because it involves my sister, and you should always compliment her.”

  “And I always do,” Brent said with a laugh as he held up his drink in an air toast. I lined up the next shot and then proceeded to whack the purple ball neatly across the table, sinking it easily. Shannon held up a hand to high-five me, and we smacked palms. I turned to Colin as Shannon set up another shot.

  “Hey, Colin, I heard your firm is one of the sponsors for the big fundraiser for the community center. I knew you were a volunteer, but I had no idea you were putting your money where your mouth is too. Another one of your quiet give back projects?”

  My brother nodded. “Yup. They do great work, and Elle, the director, is passionate about helping. Some of the kids there have had rough childhoods, so the center is all about giving them a place to hang out, and, man, do they need help refurbishing that place.”

  I tipped my chin. “Proud of you, bro.”

  “Hey,” Brent cut in, setting down his soda. “That reminds me. I heard from my friend Mindy earlier today. I already told Shan, but I wanted you both to know too. Remember the guy I saw hanging around outside her house a month ago?”

  The pool game ceased, and all eyes turned to Brent. After the murder case was reopened, Brent had mentioned spotting a guy in a Buick idling outside Shannon’s old condo. He’d snapped a photo at the time, and while the guy in the car hadn’t done anything suspicious, he’d spent far too long doing a whole lot of nothing in the car while staring at her building. Turned out Shannon had seen him another time too. Shannon was living with Brent now, so she felt safer. Still, we all wanted to know more about the guy in the Buick, in case he’d been watching Shannon for some reason.

  “Mindy talked to her friends on the force. Asked them if the ink on his arms looked familiar.” I flashed back to Luke’s comments about the Royal Sinners, and the tattoos that bore their mantra, as Brent continued, “The picture I had of him wasn’t perfect, but we zoomed in as close as we could, and it looks like one of the tattoos says Protect.”

  My blood chilled. Protect our own. “That’s the ink of the Royal Sinners,” I said, dread laced through my voice.

  Shannon moved closer to Brent, visibly shivering, and he draped an arm around his wife. “Are you serious?” she asked.

  I nodded. “We’ve already got the increased security detail on you, but just be careful, Shan. These guys don’t fuck around. Stefano has friends on the outside, and he had a kid at the time he went to prison. I heard the kid’s been getting into some trouble. What if this guy watching us is Stefano’s son? He looks young enough. We need to be careful,” I said firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument, then turned to Colin. “Same goes for you.”

  “You’re getting me a bodyguard?”

  “If you want one, I will.”

  Colin shot me a look that said hell no. “Let me see the picture,” he said, and Brent pulled it up on his phone and passed it to Colin. But the photo didn’t show much of the guy’s face.

  He stroked his chin and appeared deep in thought.

  “What is it, Colin?” Shannon asked.

  “This is going to sound strange, but he feels vaguely familiar. Like maybe I’ve seen this guy shooting hoops at the community center.” He tapped the screen and spoke to Brent. “Send me this picture. Let me do a little more digging.”

  Brent swiped the screen a few times, then said, “Done. And listen, we haven’t seen him around in a month, so my thought is maybe he was just trying to keep an eye on Shan before the case got reopened?”

  Luke’s warning rang in my ears.

  Bump into a guy like Stefano on the street and you run the other way.

  But I didn’t need that man’s words about the Royal Sinners to take the threat seriously. My father in the ground, courtesy of a gangland shooter, was all I needed to make sure I did everything I could to keep my family safe. “We’re not taking any chances, because we don’t know what’s going on. That’s the issue. We don’t know everything that’s happening with the investigation. The only one who knows is the damn detective.”

  We speculated more on the case while finishing the round of pool. When Shannon landed the winning shot, she declared victory for the two of us. Then she raised her cue, tapped me on the shoulder from across the table, and poked me with it. “Now, fess up. What’s the story with the woman you had me buy the dress for? I want to know.”

  “She’s pissed at me,” I said heavily. I hadn’t heard a word from her since last night, so that was probably the end of Miss Peach Pie. A black cloud engulfed me at the prospect of never seeing her again.

  “What did you do wrong?” Bren
t asked as he knocked back some of his soda.

  I parked my hands on my hips. “Now, why do you assume it was me who did something wrong?”

  Brent nearly spat out his drink. “Dude. You just said you did. You said she’s pissed at you.”

  “It’s a long story,” I muttered. “I don’t even know if she wants to hear from me again.”

  Shannon hung up her cue, marched over to me, and stared at me, her eyes saying we’re waiting.

  I gritted my teeth, pressing them hard together, locking up my words and shutting off the details in my head.

  Old habit.

  This was my way.

  This was how I dealt.

  Jam all the personal, private information into the vise of my mind, then crush it and let the tension live in my bones for years, like a coiled spring. The one time lately I hadn’t felt like a taut power line was when I’d given John the initials I’d gotten from my mom. Instead, I’d felt a sense of freedom from the weight of the past.

  The memory of that feeling was a soft knock on the door. A gentle reminder that I’d gotten in this predicament with Sophie by keeping my secrets airtight.

  Maybe it was time to try a new approach.

  “So here’s the story,” I said, then told them about the only woman I’d ever even started to let into my heart. I kept it short and simple, sticking to the basic facts.

  When I was through, Shannon slammed her hands against my chest. “You ass.”

  I stumbled into the pool table, surprise racing through me.

  Brent cracked up. “She doesn’t pull any punches. You gotta watch out for Mrs. Nichols,” he said.

  “Tell me about it,” I said, straightening up.

  “Why are you here? Seriously? Go,” she said, pointing to the door. “Go find her and tell her you weren’t using her, and she’s the first woman you’ve ever felt a damn thing for, and you’re all sorts of messed up in the head”—she tapped her temple—“but you want to try for her. Or do you want to wait ten years for her to come back into your life?”

  “Can’t think of a better endorsement for going after the woman you want this very second than our example,” he said, gesturing from Shannon to himself. “Go get her now, man. Get her now.”

  Shannon turned to her husband, and the look in her eyes and the smile on her face said it all. They were in mad love.

  I didn’t know if that was what I was pursuing with Sophie. It felt more like . . . possibility.

  And hell, possibility seemed worth it. When it came in a package of brains, beauty, and heart, wrapped up in a peach dress, it seemed worth it for sure.

  I searched through my mental files, trying to remember where Sophie said she’d be on Saturday. Something about the fundraiser. Doing some work with her ex. Was she at home? At her office? I snapped my fingers when I remembered.

  “Fine,” I said, then leaned closer to Shannon and whispered, “But can you give me that dress?”

  She smiled widely. “Of course. It’s in my car.”

  I turned to the rest of them. “All right. Wish me luck. You gonna stay here and keep Johnny Cash company and eat the sandwiches?”

  “We are, and then we’re going to spend the day in your pool and wreak havoc,” Colin said. “Leave now so we can start this pool party.”

  39

  Sophie

  The ballroom at The Venetian was perfection.

  I had just walked Clyde through a quick rehearsal of his opening remarks, showing him where he would enter the stage and demonstrating how the podium would be set up for his introduction at the fundraiser.

  I thanked the operations manager for the quick use of the room and then headed to the elevator with the event’s biggest donor. Clyde wagged a finger at me as we stepped into the elevator. “I can’t wait till next Saturday.”

  “It’s going to be a great event,” I said with a bright smile I hardly felt.

  Inside, my mind was a cluttered mess. I still didn’t know what to make of Ryan, or whether I wanted to move forward with him. Too bad relationships weren’t math problems with precise answers. They were essay questions in a philosophy class, and they came down to judgment.

  I wasn’t sure what choice I wanted to make, or if there even was a choice anymore. For all I knew, Ryan might have closed the gates on that flicker of possibility I’d sensed last night. Shut it off like a switch. I was willing to bet he was good at that. The man had a built-in eject button, and could easily parachute himself to a soft landing far away from me.

  “That’s not what I meant. I meant that I’m looking forward to meeting your gentleman at the event,” Clyde said with a wink, mentioning the man in limbo in my life. “The man who has captured the attention of Las Vegas’s most eligible bachelorette.”

  I cringed, absolutely cringed from head to toe, at that designation. The feminist in me wanted to brandish her claws, yet the shrewd businesswoman in me affixed her best shiny, happy face. “Oh, Clyde, you do shower me with compliments,” I said as we reached the ground floor. I attempted to steer him back to the matter at hand, so I could avoid the topic of my date, since I might not have one anymore. “I’m glad everything is in order for the benefit. Thank you again for stopping by on a Saturday morning to have a look-see.”

  He was undeterred. “Sophie, I want to say, if it doesn’t work out with this fellow for whatever reason, you have an open door with me to connect with Taylor.”

  In the blink of an eye, my wishes went from blurry to crystal clear.

  I didn’t want an open door with Taylor. I wanted Ryan. I wanted the one and only man I’d felt such passion and lust and desire for.

  There it was. My answer. My choice. This relationship was a math problem. Two plus two equals four, and four was Ryan Sloan.

  Now I needed to figure out what to do with the result of my simple addition.

  “You are so very sweet. And now I have an appointment I must rush off to,” I said, waving goodbye.

  Once out of earshot and eyeshot, I breathed a huge sigh of relief and headed to the Grand Canal Shops to meet Holden for a cup of coffee and some much-needed retail and talk therapy. Over lattes and quality time with Kenneth Cole, Coach, and Christian Louboutin, I caught him up to speed on my latest news, showing him Ryan’s photo from his corporate website.

  “I hope it’s not over,” I admitted.

  “So, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you like him?” he asked as I tried on a peep-toe silver stiletto with a strap over the heel.

  “One hundred,” I said, peering at the red-soled shoe in the mirror of the boutique. “But I don’t know where we stand.”

  He met my reflection in the glass. “Those look amazing. And honestly, it sounds more like you’re in a holding pattern.”

  “I detest holding patterns. I hate uncertainty. Not to mention the whole thing just makes me feel stupid.”

  “So tell him as much. Tell him what you need. That he needs to be open with you,” he said, as I slipped off the shoes and gestured to the counter so I could pay for them.

  “And I feel stupid too because Clyde is breathing down my neck. It’s like everyone is using me. I’m sorry if that sounds dramatic, but Clyde clearly has his sights set on me because he thinks I’ll never try to touch his money. And then I have to wonder if Ryan had his own agenda.”

  “Did it seem like that?”

  As the saleswoman rang me up, I let the reel of my time with Ryan play before my eyes. Date by date. Night by night. Text by text. Moment after moment of intoxicating, inescapable pleasure. Ryan had always seemed focused on me. Only me. My pleasure, never anything else.

  I floated back to the diner and his heady words.

  If you were mine, I’d never let you want for anything. I’d take care of you and all your needs. Whatever you needed, I’d give you.

  A current of longing swirled inside me. Of missing. Of wanting.

  “No,” I admitted, taking the bag from the employee. “I was his only agenda.”

  �
��Then,” he said, as he patted my shoulder, “it seems you might want to let him know you’re falling for him. Especially since I think he’s here right now.”

  “What?”

  He gestured to the entryway of the Louboutin store. “I’m assuming the insanely handsome man in the University of Michigan T-shirt, holding a shopping bag and looking just like the guy in the photo you just showed me, is here to see you?”

  40

  Sophie

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  I was too stunned to say much more, but the softness in his voice and the vulnerable look in his beautiful dark-blue eyes, settled my nerves.

  Ryan turned to Holden standing next to me. “You must be Holden. I’ve heard a lot about you. Pleasure to meet you,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Ryan.”

  Holden took it. “Likewise. Nice to meet you too.”

  “Sophie tells me you’re a talented piano player, and that I’ll get to hear you next week at the benefit. That is,” he said, returning his focus to me, “if Sophie will still have me.”

  Holden smiled broadly and dropped a quick kiss on my cheek. “I believe that’s my cue to go.”

  I was left in the middle of the Louboutin store with the man I’d kicked out of my house last night. “How did you find me here?”

  “Don’t forget, I was Army Intelligence,” he said with a grin.

  “And they taught you how to locate women who are shopping?”

  He shook his head. “No. But you told me you were going to be here today, and since you’re a classy woman, I picked the classiest shoe store as your possible location.” I loved that I was the object of his treasure hunt. “So,” he began, rocking lightly back and forth on his feet. “I’m not terribly good at this whole talk-about-feelings-and-stuff thing, as you’ve probably gathered by now. So I’m just going to be blunt and lay it out.”

  He took a beat, drawing a breath. My heart raced as I waited for his next words. “I want to try with you. And I want to take you to the benefit, and introduce you to my brothers and sister, and I’m pretty sure Johnny Cash is eager to meet you.”