Candy Corn and Cocky Kisses

by Alyssa Brooks

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Candy Corn and Cocky Kisses

  ISBN 9781419913112

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Candy Corn and Cocky Kisses Copyright © 2007 Alyssa Brooks & Larissa Lyons

  Edited by Helen Woodall.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication October 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Candy Corn and Cocky Kisses

  Alyssa Brooks & Larissa Lyons

  Dedication

  To Helen, for taking a chance on us both. ☺

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Addams Family: Colyton, Barbara

  Ben Wa : Ben Wa Novelty Corporation

  Bow Wow Wow: Blag Music Ltd.

  Budweiser: Anheuser-Busch, Inc.

  Frankenstein: Universal City Studios, Inc.

  KIWI: Saramar L.L.C.

  Mercedes Benz: DaimlerChrysler AG Corporation

  Merriam Webster: Merriam-Webster, Inc.

  Sprite: Coca-Cola Company, The

  Prologue

  Tricky Trouble

  Mid Summer

  “I don’t fucking believe this!” Brad Linsey glared at the cell phone in his hand like it was a fanged viper about to strike. “Dammit, Alexis!”

  Holding her breath, Jenny reminded herself there was no way Brad wasn’t going to be pissed—after all, he was being dumped in the worst way.

  Lucky her, the bearer of bad news. She’d always liked him too. Perhaps a little too much.

  All this certainly explained why Alexis had been MIA from her own bachelorette party. It had been a great one too—just like Brad was a great catch.

  One Alexis was throwing back.

  Jenny refused to acknowledge the relief that washed through her body, her very heart, at the thought. So Brad was hot. So she’d had a crush on him since high school. So what?

  Two minutes ago, he’d officially become her best friend’s ex. Off-limits, just as he’d always been.

  Besides, she’d sworn off men for good. Even ones that looked like a blond Adonis.

  Ah well. That was the story of her life…liking men she couldn’t—or shouldn’t—be with. Exactly why dating had been elevated to a felony in her book.

  In front of her, Brad slammed the phone to his ear so hard Jenny heard his eardrum pop. “You’re breaking up with me twenty minutes before our wedding? Are you shitting me? I don’t believe this!”

  Yeah, that had been mentioned, hadn’t it? At least twice now.

  “Alexis, does it escape you that we have three hundred damn guests sitting in the fucking orchid-covered pews?”

  That too.

  When would this drama end? Jenny hated tension. Hated having to see an okay guy get the shaft.

  Okay? Try God-like At least where looks were concerned. Personality-wise? She was starting to wonder.

  Jenny stepped back as Brad began to pace the tiny confines of the closed-in room that wasn’t big enough for the three of them—Jenny, Brad and his temper.

  “Alexis Eugenia Tarleton,” Brad growled into the phone. “I don’t care where you’ve spent the night—or with whom. Wash that damn loser off your skin and get your ass over here. We’re taking vows in eighteen minutes. Goddammit, don’t embarrass me.”

  Didn’t seem very heartbroken, did he? Just embarrassed?

  The way he was yelling, Jenny wouldn’t be surprised if every orchid in the church had wilted.

  “You what?” Brad’s GQ-inspired tan turned blistering red in the heat of his anger, his fingers squeezing the phone as if to smash it to smithereens. “What do you mean you love him? Bullshit. You’re about to humiliate me in front of my biggest client, not to mention Grandmother Lins—”

  That’s why he was so mad? Love wasn’t bullshit. It was…it was…

  Enough was enough. It would be one thing if he was truly heartbroken but who cared about his grandmother and his stupid pride?

  Jenny wrenched the phone from his unsuspecting grip. She hadn’t been taking assertiveness training for nothing. “Hold on, Alexis.” Jenny muffled the phone and glared at Brad. “You know what? I’m glad she’s not marrying you. You’re an ass.”

  “Huh…” She’d stunned him silent. Probably because she hadn’t spoken two hundred words to him the entire year he and her best friend had dated. Jenny didn’t talk to men, not unless she had to. Despite all the counseling, containing her bitterness seemed impossible and she hated sounding like an embittered bitch. Sometimes it was better to be quiet.

  This wasn’t one of those cases. Brad deserved to be chewed up and fed to the dogs. No one treated her best friend this way.

  Jenny straightened her five-foot-two-inch frame, wishing she could miraculously gain about ten inches and look him in the eye. Instead, she tried not to notice how yummy his cologne smelled and poked him in the stomach with her free hand—her once broken hand—and met an impenetrable wall. Pain radiated to her elbow, only serving to make her madder.

  Cry mercy!

  Never again. Never!

  She jabbed harder, enjoying the stinging reminder. She hated men. “I thought Alexis was the luckiest woman in the world to have found a guy like you but I must have been crazy. You care more about what your business colleagues think than how she feels? Do you have any idea—wait a minute.”

  Jenny whirled around and spoke into the cell phone. “Alexis? Honey, if Nate makes you happy, then I’m happy… Sure… Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your mother—but you owe me big. Now go have some fun. I have a giant ass to deal with.”

  She flipped the phone shut, painted on a sarcastic smile and turned to Brad. His starched bowtie appeared to be strangling him.

  “You never really cared about her at all, did you?”

  “What?” A muscle ticked in his square jaw.

  What? That was his defense?

  Suddenly, his professionally styled hair no longer looked so unintentionally casual. And his eyes…they weren’t the deep indigo that she imagined drowning in but shallow, pale pools of blue. Practically soulless. And come to think of it, maybe his cologne didn’t smell that great either.

  No wait. He’d been smoking. Ew. Her ex had smoked.

  She’d wasted years of fantasies on Brad and fantasies were all she had. That really ticked her off.

  Fingers stiff, Jenny poked him in the chest again, the burn zinging up her arm reminding her exactly how much she loathed cocky, self-involved males—and why. “I might feel sorry for you if just once you had told Alexis that you loved her. Sounded the least bit hurt. But I don’t think you care one iota about losing her, do you? It’s all about your pride. Typical male.”

  Brad opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it—your breath smells like you gargled with ashes. And this was your wedding day. I don’t care how beautiful you are—you’re an ass and you damn well deserve everything you’re getting. Good riddance!”

  She spun on her heel, ready to storm from the room when the sight of Tom—Brad’s best man who she’d forgotten all about, lounging in the corner—made her realize she wasn’t done. Not quite yet
.

  “And one other thing. Your friend Tom,” she pointed to the jackass, “is a moron. Did you know he pinched my butt after two minutes’ acquaintance at last night’s wedding rehearsal? I should have known someone who hangs out with crap like that isn’t any better.

  “Alexis has had the closest call of her life, almost marrying you. Thank God she didn’t. If you’d been a little more attentive, instead of selfish, you might have seen this coming—”

  “Sorry about Tom,” Brad interrupted. Yeah, as if he really gave a damn. “But you don’t understand. We’ve been planning this wedding for—”

  Jenny clenched her hands against the urge to jab him again—she’d just mentally revoked her license to poke.

  He wasn’t worth it. “My point exactly, you egotistical, self-centered, blond ass. It’s not about the wedding. It’s about the marriage. Think about that while you’re on your honeymoon. Alone!”

  With that, she spun around and dashed through the door. Now she had to face Alexis’ mother. Mrs. Tarleton would bust a—

  “Whoa,” she heard Tom sputter on a laugh. “She’s a firecracker. Didn’t know she had it in her or I might’ve pinched her other cheek.”

  What? Jenny couldn’t help herself as her feet stumbled to halt and she listened for the abandoned groom’s response.

  “One of these days…” Brad sounded thoughtful and she almost wished— “I’m going to slam into that and shift gears. We’ll see how damn selfish and conceited she thinks I am when I’m making her scream my name.”

  That bastard!

  Shaking so hard she could hardly walk, Jenny forced herself to head in the direction of the packed auditorium. She could only hope one day Brad ended up on the opposing side in the courtroom. There, she ruled. Commanded. Punished sorry SOBs just like him every day.

  There, she made men cry mercy.

  God, after the way he’d acted, she’d love to prosecute the hell out of Brad Linsey, former high school crush. Current Jerk-of-the-Year.

  Chapter One

  Tricky Treat

  Late October

  Were they laughing at him?

  Through the smoky vapor generated by buckets of dry ice, Brad stared at the group of costumed females shooting looks his direction and snapping their fingers in time to the Addams Family theme. His out-of-the-way post in the corner hadn’t been very effective, had it? The whole lot of them were smiling widely and giggling. Flirting?

  Probably.

  That or they were talking about him, about how he’d been dumped less than half an hour before his hundred-thousand-dollar wedding. How after his staunch and very public announcement that Alexis wouldn’t be joining him in holy matrimony, his dear old Grandmother Linsey had grabbed her cane and marched to the front of the church, demanding, “Well, Bradley, what’d you do this time?”

  Yeah, likely everyone here tonight knew how he’d wrecked his favorite car and his whole damn life, drinking and driving like an idiot, trying to outrun the humiliation.

  Brad felt his face heating but he forced himself to play it cool. He winked and flashed the girls a smile meant to melt. The blatantly seductive kitty cat laughing with her friends purred loudly and arched her back, waving for him to join them.

  Ah, relief. They didn’t know his shame, weren’t making fun of him. No way, not when he’d gone all-out to disguise himself as a pirate. He was just being too damn self-conscious, which was exactly why he was here tonight—to get over it. To get laid.

  Too bad Kitty wasn’t his type.

  After half-heartedly saluting her with his drink, declining her invitation, Brad remained in the corner nursing his martini with miniscule sips, his neck at an unnatural angle to keep the broad brim of his hat from bumping against the wall.

  Brad wasn’t sure what he wanted tonight—other than a tight pussy—but he figured he’d know the owner when he saw her. Kitty wasn’t it.

  As he stood there, staring through the one useful eye he had—the other being covered by a black satin patch—at the increasing crowd, he tried to convince himself to relax. To enjoy his first drink in months, to savor the prospect of getting laid—four months was far too long for a man like him.

  The vodka slowly heated his veins but it wasn’t firing his courage. Or his cock.

  What was wrong with him?

  At least the Tarletons could always be counted on for top-shelf liquor.

  He couldn’t believe how uncomfortable he felt. These were his people, for God’s sake… At least, they had been. He’d grown up here in the Hamptons, hobnobbing with the richest of the rich, the snobbiest of the snobs, but after being abandoned at the altar by Alexis Tarleton, he’d voluntarily sequestered himself away and faced some hard truths.

  Egotistical, self-centered, blond ass.

  The words wouldn’t stop running through his mind. He wasn’t an ass, mind you, he was a blond ass, as if his coloring were to blame.

  Like it was all his fault—Alexis standing him up.

  Which, of course, it was, he’d realized upon reflection. Lots of reflection. Amid a couple dozen twelve-packs of Budweiser—he’d felt like slummin’—and enough damn cigars to set off his fire detector. Hell, he just might have cured himself of that nasty habit without even trying.

  He still couldn’t remember the accident that had totaled his Benz, but every day the ache in his hand reminded him. Half the bones on one side had been broken, he’d lost the Mercedes and worse, he now faced DUI charges. His damn court date was on Halloween of all days.

  It made a man think. Made him almost go crazy. Guilted him into behaving better. Wanting to change.

  He couldn’t hide forever. Four months of introspection was three and a half months too long. Brad knew he had to face himself, face his old friends sometime. Where better than the Tarletons’ charity bash, something Alexis’ mom put on every year? This year, it was all about organ donation. A worthy cause. Brad’s father might have lived longer had a match been found when his kidneys failed.

  Mrs. Tarleton had sent Brad a personalized invitation this year. Out of pity, he knew. Saying no might have been smart but weak. Brad had turned over a new leaf and tonight was his coming-out party. No one had to know who he was unless he wanted them to. He’d gone all out, investing in a costume he hoped put everyone else’s to shame. Tonight, he was officially Captain Jack Sparrow, privateer, pirate and professional bad boy out for a good time.

  His full pirate regalia came complete with pasted-on beaded goatee, mustache, long dark wig and a wicked saber.

  That was the best part.

  Brad smiled and touched the hilt resting on his leather belt. His finger tested the supposedly pretend blade. Seemed mighty sharp to him.

  Smears of black shoe polish under each eye and a few dabs of good ole Kiwi mahogany rubbed over his skin practically guaranteed no one would recognize him. He might not have Johnny Depp’s drunken swagger or lingo down but he definitely had the attitude. At least, he intended to. Soon as he finished this drink. His first—and only—one of the night.

  He glanced back at Kitty. Still nothing. “Ah well.”

  Then in walked all the incentive he’d ever need and his cock jumped to attention.

  “Whoa ho ho,” Brad chuckled to himself, tossing back the rest of his martini and pushing away from the wall the second he caught sight of the new arrival—a hot little piece guaranteed to make his mouth water.

  He wandered closer and almost laughed out loud. Could it really be? Little Miss Mouth? Jenny “The Spitfire” Beckman?

  A platinum blonde wig, bobbed at her chin, hid her curly brown hair and framed a pert face that fairly screamed innocence and integrity. Her jaw was steel, her lips lush, her usually angelic eyes darkened with mascara. But that determined chin was a dead giveaway.

  And her body…oh her curvaceous little body. Once she’d stood up to him and made him take notice, he hadn’t gotten her body out of his mind. She was sheathed in a brilliant orange and yellow dress and even brighter o
range leggings and it took him a second to figure out what she was—and then he saw it…

  Little pieces of candy corn dangled from every inch of her petite frame—from her ears, her neck, even around her ankles. Like those flapper necklaces, the ones from the roaring twenties, one long strand swayed between her legs—a place he desperately wanted to go. To taste.

  And her walk…there was something about it tonight and it wasn’t those three-inch heels that showcased her calf muscles to perfection. The woman had something up her ass and he figured he was just the man to wrench it out.

  Jenny B. What a treat.

  She’d never looked this good in her cheerleading uniform.

  Ah hell, he’d start being upstanding tomorrow—right now, it was time to start shifting gears.

  He had a pussy to pillage.

  How appropriate.

  Two strands of pearls were wedged between her butt crack and with any luck, soon she’d be screwing a pirate.

  A damn sexy pirate, from the tip of his black tricorn hat to the folded-over leather boots that came up past his knees. The sleeves were ripped from his pirate coat, leaving his arms bare. Johnny Depp had nothing on him.

  And the chances of her getting to screw Johnny? Slim to none. Chances of her getting to screw the man headed her way? Ninety-nine percent.

  Now that was confidence.

  And well deserved too. After fourteen very dry months and so many hours of counseling, her butt print was stamped on the shrink’s office chair, Jenny was finally ready to face the male gender.

  More importantly, she was ready to get laid.

  Not that she had a choice at this point. Her clit pulsed and her anus twittered against the tiny, silken balls wedged between her crack. Damn, the pearl g-string Alexis had dared her to wear to the party had her swollen and horny.

  Payback was a bitch.

  Jenny stifled a moan and squeezed her thighs together. There was no turning back and she had her eyes set on her prey—the closest she’d ever come to Johnny.