Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  Vanessa looked around, the vision dissipating, but the smell lingering. The vision was powerful but had to be in her imagination. She’d been an avid fan of Little House on the Prairie when she was younger, and that was part of the appeal of this old cabin in the woods. As she inhaled the rich cornbread aroma, her stomach rumbled. She wished she had a stove; she’d rustle some up. It must be her mind playing tricks on her. She was hungry, but there was no way she was really smelling something besides dust and rotten wood.

  Cornbread? She must really be missing her mom.

  She shook her head, a little discombobulated, and looked around again.

  Yup. Same mess as before.

  She couldn’t clean it without supplies. Time to unhitch the moving trailer and go to town.

  Chapter Two

  The hardware store was on Main Street and looked like it had been there forever. Vanessa liked the vibe she got from it. The entire downtown area was old buildings that had stood the test of time, like her house. A sense of pride in her new town and its historical roots welled in her, along with a strong desire to research the place. It had definitely been around a long time and hadn’t been remodeled to lose the historical integrity.

  Walking into the hardware store, the scents of ancient dust, paint, and musty grease assaulted her senses. It was a warm feeling, and she liked it.

  “Hi! Welcome to Ward’s! Y’all new here in town?” A beaming blonde woman about Vanessa’s age came around the counter to greet Vanessa, and she was surprised to find herself smiling back. The woman’s friendliness was contagious, different, and welcome.

  “Um, yeah. I’ve got a list,” she waved her pad around absently and grabbed one of the flatbed dollies to wheel around. “Can you show me where the paint is?”

  “Haha. It’s in the back. What color do you want? I can get Dad to mix it for you while you do the rest of your shopping. Just tell me how much you need. I’m Samantha.” The woman stopped talking long enough to take a breath, holding out her hand to shake. As Vanessa reached out to meet it, she was surprised by the firmness of the grip. “You need primer, too?”

  “I’m Vanessa. And, yeah, probably.” She looked through the book Samantha shoved in her direction, picked out a pretty buttery yellow color just like she’d envisioned, and started on her list, going up and down aisles while Samantha took her paint order to the back.

  When she returned, Samantha followed her from aisle to aisle, pointing out different items to her. It was unnerving to say the least. Vanessa had to stand around and holler to get anyone to help her back home, and here she couldn’t get the woman to leave her alone.

  As if reading her mind, an ancient, grizzled voice came from the back, “Sam, are you following her around? Get back to the front!” An older man came out of the back and must have been Samantha’s father. The resemblance was striking. He used to have blond hair, which had faded to a dull gold color, but his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Wheeling a dolly full of five-gallon buckets of paint, he whistled tunelessly while he parked it next to the register.

  “Sorry, that’s my Dad and my boss. Let me know if you need anything?” Sam wiped her hands on her thighs and backed toward the front of the store, looking sheepish. Vanessa heard mutterings from the front, followed by a heavy sigh, and had to smile to herself while at the same time wondering what Samantha’s family dynamic was all about. She liked the girl—friendly and effervescent—and hoped the woman had a better relationship with her family than Vanessa did. Especially if she worked for her dad.

  She’d made it to the aisle with the brooms, mops, trashcans, and other cleaning supplies, and started loading up. She would need a lot of this type stuff, the more the better.

  Her thoughts turned to her dad, once again. He’d barely acknowledged her declaration that she’d bought her first house. It wasn’t until she’d let him in on the fact the house was seven hours away that he’d reacted with the predictable guilt trip.

  Dad wanted Vanessa to stay at home with him—taking care of him after her mother’s death—and marry Ian. Every single one of those ideas made her varying levels of sick to her stomach. Ian was only interested in what Vanessa could do for him, as well as her Dad, to some extent. Truth was, Mom had spoiled Dad, and after her tragic and sudden death, he’d fallen apart. He’d hoped Vanessa would step into her shoes, marry the man he approved of, and continue taking care of him. But Vanessa had a life of her own to live and a little falling apart of her own to do.

  But she wasn’t here to relive that memory. She was here to start a new life.

  With a brand new, sparkling broom.

  She sighed to herself as she grabbed one out of the giant trashcans that held about fifty brooms, all standing bristles up, and made her way back to the front of the store. It may be a new life she was starting, but it was going to be a hell of a lot of work.

  Samantha smiled brightly as she greeted her. “You find everything you need?” Samantha was really beautiful. With sickeningly flawless skin, a mouth that seemed too small until she smiled, and crystalline blue eyes, she was freaking gorgeous. And the long, blonde hair pulled back in a haphazard braid only contributed to the ridiculous beauty. But Vanessa could already tell her looks weren’t something she strived for. They were just a part of her, and Samantha had yet to flip her hair, or smack her lips, or do anything to draw attention to her features. Vanessa felt herself warming to her.

  By contrast, a woman whose hair was died a garish blonde color that didn’t match her skin tone, with the longest fake nails Vanessa had ever seen, was pacing the store, smacking gum, looking down every aisle, ignoring Samantha and Vanessa.

  “For now.” Vanessa was sure she’d be back. Lots.

  Samantha sighed, raising her finger in a ‘one moment’ gesture, and turned to the woman who was clearly agitated. “Cindy, he’s not here. Have you checked The Pint?” The clerk waved the woman away, as if she came in every day looking for somebody.

  “He’s not there, and you always lie to me, Sam.” She seemed friendly enough, if even a little hurt. Turning to Vanessa, she saw the woman had wide, glassy brown eyes and a kind smile. “Have you seen a tall, blonde guy? Probably wearing a concert t-shirt that’s two sizes too small and jeans that fit like a fucking glove?”

  “Nope. I just got into town. I haven’t really seen anybody.” Although, with that description, she wouldn’t mind seeing him. Vanessa had to admit she wanted some action of the sexual variety, even though the man Cindy had described was obviously hers, and Vanessa wasn’t into poaching.

  The woman held her hand out to shake. “Oh well. Welcome! I’m Cindy. It’s nice to meet you.” Her eyes scanned Vanessa up and down, and Vanessa blushed at what the woman undoubtedly saw—a short redhead with too-little boobs who needed to work out a bit more. Yeah, next to Cindy—all stacked and fitting into her tiny dress just perfectly—Vanessa felt a little less than stellar. And she was filthy. Vanessa realized Cindy wasn’t trying to decide if she was telling the truth. She was trying to decide if she was competition. Her grip was firm, but Vanessa apparently passed her test because she waggled her hand once and dropped it, as if it were diseased. Cindy might not be measuring, but Vanessa was. Next to Cindy, Vanessa seemed to come up short.

  To Samantha, Cindy said, “Tell him to call me.”

  “Sure thing.” Samantha saluted wryly before turning back to Vanessa and punching in prices for her items while Cindy sauntered out the door.

  After making sure she’d left, Samantha winked conspiratorially at Vanessa. “He’s here, hiding in the back. But what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. So… you’re new? Where you staying?”

  “Um, over on Private Road 439. It’s an old house in the middle of nowhere.” Locks. She forgot fucking locks. “Do you have locks? Like deadbolts?” The last thing she wanted was to be stranded in the middle of nowhere with no locks on the doors. Not that the holes in the walls and lack of window panes would keep anyone out. But she’d just told a stranger she
was there. Victoria, Texas—where she moved from—may not be the big city, but she’d been raised locking her doors at night and would feel like she was camping if she didn’t do it.

  “Sure, they’re over on aisle six, by the screws.” Samantha smiled in understanding. “Here, leave me your list. I’ll see if I can think of anything else you need today.”

  Vanessa ran over to that aisle and grabbed two sets of knobs and a deadbolt, wondering how easy they were to install.

  “So you’re over at the old Evans place?” Samantha was still ringing up Vanessa’s stack of purchases, old school style. She plugged in each price manually on an ancient register.

  “I’m not sure. It’s certainly old. But I don’t know who owned it before me. I bought it from a property management company online.”

  “Old, two-story log cabin? Looks like it hasn’t been lived in for centuries?”

  “Yeah, that’s the place.”

  A tiny thrill went through her at the realization it was hers. All hers. As much of a shit-hole as it was, it was hers.

  “Is the prison finished?” Samantha asked, her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. A tingle went up Vanessa’s spine and the hairs on her arm raised.

  “Prison? That would explain the bus…” she mused as she remembered the old bus with the windows covered in chicken wire that had nearly run her off the road earlier. That wasn’t the weirdest part, though. A Lincoln Town Car had cruised by, with the creepiest man she’d ever seen driving it, along with a sleeping teenager. But that wasn’t all. He’d slowed down while he’d passed her and gotten an eye-full, staring at her like he was memorizing her features with eerie eyes under craggy eyebrows. It had given her the heebie jeebies more than her long-abandoned house had. She attributed it to her writer-brain—making mountains out of every mole hill she ran across. But it made for great story fodder.

  “It’s out there by where you live, but it’s a max security facility, or supposed to be, anyway. So you should be safe. The warden is creepy as hell, though. Excuse my language, but have you seen him?” She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “He’s the stuff of nightmares.”

  “I think so, actually.” Vanessa didn’t think she’d ever forget the look the man in the Lincoln had given her and felt some validation at the other woman’s perceptions of the man.

  “Oh my God. That man goes to The Pint and just sits in the corner drinking scotch and staring at people. Never talks. Ever.” She shuddered. “Weirdo.”

  She needed to check out this Pint place. If there was some place to hang out and people watch in Mystic, she wanted to be there. Cindy was looking for some random guy there, and the warden hung out there; maybe there was a cute bartender or something.

  “You read?” The bright blonde broke Vanessa out of her fog to ask the random question. She had to laugh at her nosiness. She stared at Vanessa expectantly with a not-so-subtle grin on her face.

  “Um, yeah.” She felt the blush rise to her cheeks. She read a lot. To herself, she called it market research. She planned on using the deduction on her taxes.

  “Romance?” Samantha’s eyes lit up like a damn kid’s at Christmas, and Vanessa realized she’d just met a kindred spirit.

  Vanessa read romance, wrote romance, lived and breathed it, but Samantha didn’t need to know everything.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, not wanting anyone to over hear her. She wasn’t ashamed of it per se, but people tended to get judgey. Proceeds from her smut sales were paying one of her bills, but that didn’t mean she was ready to announce it to all of Ward’s Hardware Store. She wrote books about cocks and pussies and paid her water bill with it. So there.

  “Favorite author?” Samantha prodded, and Vanessa knew as a fellow reader, she was being tested. She smiled, loving the turn of the conversation.

  “Um, right now, it’s Roni Lauren.” Samantha immediately got her phone out of her pocket and started tapping, presumably Googling the author, and Vanessa’s smile got brighter.

  “I haven’t heard of her, but… Oh! She looks good!” A few more taps, and “Oh! How have I NOT heard of her? She looks amazing!” Samantha’s face radiated joy as she looked back up at Vanessa. “You have to join our book club!”

  Vanessa laughed, feeling ridiculously pleased. “Okay.”

  Samantha leaned over the counter conspiratorially. “It’s called the Book Bitches. You need to come. There’s a meeting tomorrow night at my house.”

  “Okay, sure.” Vanessa came from a city where people don’t just ask other strangers over unless they’re trying to get in their pants, but Samantha’s warm smile and friendly demeanor made Vanessa instantly at ease. “Who all’s going to be there?” she asked, knowing how stupid that sounded. Samantha could have spouted off the entire phone book and she wouldn’t know a single name.

  “Just the girls.” Her insane smile was contagious, and Vanessa found herself returning it. This would certainly piss her dad off—her making friends and having an unapproved-of social life. This was what she was doing here, wasn’t it? Making her own way?

  Remembering the woman who just left, Vanessa was curious if the vibe of the gathering would be friendly or competitive. She didn’t really relish competition between new girlfriends. “Will Cindy be there?”

  “Please. She’s my brother’s fuck buddy, not my friend. I’m not even sure she knows how to read.” Wow. Vanessa made a mental note to stay on Samantha’s good side. “She gives bad names to women everywhere with her total lack of self-restraint and lack of any sense of self-worth. She just pisses me off.” Whoa… The woman did know how to get mad. Vanessa wondered if it was all this Cindy girl, or if Samantha was really that protective of her brother.

  “Oh, do you know anybody that fixes places up? Reasonably? I’m going to need some work done.”

  “I’ll bet,” Samantha snorted. Waving over to a bulletin board filled with scraps of paper and business cards, she said, “That hot pink one over there with the tear-offs? That’s my brother, Linc. He works cheap. And he’s good.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter Three

  Linc didn’t want to be around people today. He felt weird—an itchy feeling under his skin—and he thought something big was about to happen. Seeing the woman from out of town walk into his dad’s store had stirred something around inside him, intensifying the restless feeling, shrinking his skin almost. But Linc didn’t have a clue what it could be.

  Only that it had something to do with her.

  He’d watched for a while, then when Cindy came in, he decided to make himself scarce. Hiding like a pussy wouldn’t stop whatever was about to happen from happening, but he’d learned a long time ago to trust his gut with these feelings. This town was, among residents, famous for its paranormal issues. Linc wasn’t about to disregard the itchy insides.

  While Cindy argued with his sister—God love Samantha—Linc snuck out the back door to his truck. Before he could get in, though, he managed to run into old Mrs. Willis, who looked down her nose at him in disapproval.

  “You know, Mr. Ward, skulking about makes you look bad, don’t you?” Her mouth pursed, Mrs. Willis carried the weight of the town’s sins on her shoulders. She was quick to point out faults while in the same breath professing her prayers for all involved.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Linc didn’t have much else of a response. Mrs. Willis only stated the obvious, which everyone else in town was too polite to speak of. But she was ninety years old, and still got around on her own, so nobody was going to say anything to her.

  “Young man like you needs rehabilitation. A job. Steady living. Hard work.” She sniffed in indignation. “You need to be helping out your father more.”

  “I have been, Mrs. Willis. It’s my lunch time,” he lied. Sure, he’d unloaded the freight truck, but it wasn’t his lunch break. He was totally going home, if he could escape Cindy. This store wasn’t his life like it was for his dad and sister. He wanted more; Linc just didn’t know what.


  Leaving Mrs. Willis to her never-ending disapproval, Linc continued on to his truck. He just wanted to go home.

  And that’s exactly where went. He wanted to be in the privacy of his own single-wide on the outskirts of town—waiting for whatever was about to happen.

  Today, he was entertaining all his regrets, remembering the people he’d hurt, the bad choices he’d made. It wasn’t anybody’s idea of fun, but something inside him felt the need to do it occasionally, just so they weren’t forgotten. He had to remember.

  Linc’s phone ringing kept him from reaching for the bottle of Kentucky Deluxe on top of his fridge. He was thankful to whoever it was for saving him from the inevitable hangover—his sister.

  “There’s a new girl in town, she’s really nice. I gave her your number.”

  He’d known that. Not the number part, but that there was a new girl in town. She was way out of his league; he could just tell by looking. That might be part of his mood today, even though Samantha’s voice was doing a lot to bring him out of the darkness and guilt he was ready to sink into.

  “Why’d you do that?” He sat on his recliner, stretching out his legs.

  “Because she bought the old Evans place and needs help fixing it up. I told her you were good and cheap.”

  His ears perked up at that. He loved the old Evans place, always had. His dad said they had some sort of family history there, but his dad said that about every place in town. Their family had been in Mystic, Texas forever. But if he was working on the Evans place, he’d have a paying job for a long time. And one paying job would surely lead to more.

  “Thanks, Sam. I appreciate that.” And he genuinely did. Maybe this was what the feeling was about. A job. One could only hope.