Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  Television and ice cream won. She curled on the sofa in comfy sweats and ate the whole carton while she watched old sitcoms, reality shows about women being told what to wear, and tear jerking movies. After having a good long cry and devouring a container of melted ice cream, she tuned in to a program about wedding planning. The newest and biggest trend appeared to be destination weddings, especially Hawaii, where a wide open field awaited wedding planners, florists, and photographers.

  “I could so do the same thing, only better.” She watched a couple make their wedding dream come true. “It’s all about staying calm, lining up a venue, making sure everyone is on the same page and pulling their weight, and being in control. Simple, really.”

  Christine turned off the television and tossed the ice cream carton in the trash. She refused to mope any longer. Screw it. She had stuff to do. Her gaze caught on the hook in front of the window where she’d hung the lei. The flowers were drying, something she planned to keep forever. What happened between Charlie putting the lei in her suitcase and the cold distance he showed now: the gorgeous flight attendant, ambition, or playboy tendencies?

  “I need to pound something.” She’d been remodeling the house. New molding awaited placement where the walls met the floor in the living room. The kitchen needed to be painted; she’d always hated the horrid green Randy loved so much. The hall closet had loads of stuff to be donated to Goodwill. The bathroom could use a new light fixture. The bedroom needed new curtain rods. She hadn’t seen the attic or basement in months so might as well go through them and donate more stuff when she made the trip to Goodwill. Before she went to jail for embezzlement, she’d make sure the house looked decent. Adam could finish anything she couldn’t after he moved back in a few months. Speaking of jail, she should contact a lawyer and get some advice. But right now, she’d pound nails, get rid of this frustration, anger, depression, and God only knew what else swirling in her mind.

  ***

  Charlie pounded the asphalt with new running shoes and felt the vibrations in his knees as sweat ran down his face, his breathing no longer the controlled stance of a runner. He’d done his normal five miles and more. He’d ache like a bitch later, but he couldn’t forget the hurt in Christine’s voice, the bewilderment, the tone which told him clearer than any words: he’d failed her. The one person who had always supported him was now the one person he’d hurt the most.

  After jogging over ten miles, Charlie still had no solutions except for one. He would investigate on his own. When Peg got wind, there’d be all hell to pay. The corporation higher ups could decide to terminate him. Everything career wise he’d worked toward for so long could be gone in an instant. Could he truly risk his entire career?

  “Hell yes. For Christine I could. I will. I’ll be damned if I’ll sit back and do nothing while the corporation investigates and treats Christine like a criminal.” Out of breath, more angry than winded, Charlie halted and bent over. He wanted to call her so badly his heart ached more than his knees.

  He leaned against a palm tree to catch his breath. It was a gorgeous morning: sun bright, air thick with the scent of flowers and ocean, light traffic as always this early. He heard faint sounds of other people: shop keepers, restaurant workers, hotel janitors who carted off trash so tourists would only see natural tropical beauty. The so-called ‘little people,’ who worked so hard for too little money were making sure Paradise remained slow, easy, relaxing. Without them, the town, the state, would never survive. They were the vital backbone rarely noticed or appreciated.

  “That’s the key.” Charlie snapped his fingers. Some employees moved through life without being noticed, especially in a corporation their size. There were dozens of clerks, customer services representatives, assistants, and office workers. Folks in the IT department rarely got attention until someone needed help with a computer program. Payroll didn’t hear from anyone unless a problem with a paycheck occurred. When had Charlie last thanked any of those department employees, the lady who cleaned his office every day, the man who collected the trash, or even his administrative assistant? “Not for a while,” he murmured as he watched a group of uniformed hotel staff hurry past. He’d correct those oversights today.

  He’d bet several people in Christine’s office lived in the shadows, weren’t often called upon, did vital work, and could also access invoices, accounts, and unattended computers. He wiped his forehead. Peg mentioned this same crime had happened at other offices. The whole corporation prided itself on being ‘at the top of the technology age’. Everything submitted electronically: correspondence, orders and invoices, direct deposit payments. Enter the data and push a button, easy as poi. With proper access, data could be changed or a routing number switched with no one the wiser.

  Charlie stretched his aching legs. He’d start with Christine’s office and discover who could be unnoticed and free to do whatever they wished with access to computers containing orders, shipments, and payments. After he had a list of suspects, he’d narrow the list to who would try to frame Christine and why. It would be tricky, a delicate balance to work on this yet not reveal his intentions. One breath of his inquiry at Christine’s office, and Peg would spear him like a fish for a lu’au, a Hawaiian Barbeque.

  Which speaking of, he’d arrange a bit of a celebration lunch today for all those vital employees who did so much for him. “Damn, that’s it, that’s the answer how to investigate.” Charlie grinned as the idea took root. He’d arrange a lu’au for the offices he had the most transactions with, including Christine’s. Nothing like a party to loosen tongues and get a true feel of people. “Bond, Charles Bond, at your service.” He chuckled and began the long trek home.

  Chapter Nine

  Three weeks later

  “Oh I can imagine.” Christine wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder. “I guess I should say I’m happy life is progressing as usual there.”

  “Nothing usual about it,” Kathy grumbled. “What the hell Jim thought is beyond me. He put Laci in charge of your accounts.”

  Christine picked at a broken fingernail. The lawyer she’d met with had advised her not to talk to anyone from the corporation without him, but Kathy called once a week or so to complain. Christine simply listened.

  “She’s on the damn phone all the time with Charlie Jergens, simpering and giggling like some love struck teenager. It’s disgusting.”

  He does have a certain effect on women, Christine wanted to say. Charlie hadn’t contacted her. After the last short call, Christine ceased texting, messaging, and emailing him. His message came through loud and clear: Christine had been replaced at work and with Charlie. The poems, the lei, and their time together must have all been part of the flirtation, and now it was over.

  “She’s insufferable going on about how he’s falling under her spell and has invited her to visit him,” Kathy continued. “He’s been traveling around to other offices, throwing some Hawaiian style cookout lunch for everyone, and little Laci just can’t wait until he comes here. She even took up jogging just because he does.” Christine felt a pang in her stomach. Charlie threw parties and asked Laci to visit? Damn him. “She wore a sports bra and biker shorts to the office then had a fit when Jim asked her to change.” Christine would have laughed at Kathy’s outraged tone if she felt a tiny bit less devastated.

  “Her excuse? She went out jogging and came to use the office gym so why change? Jim said the dress code still applied. She pouted like a six year old, and then they disappeared into his office for hours. Two guesses what they were doing.” Christine made some non-committal sound of agreement. I can go pound nails again as soon as Kathy winds down. “He just laughs at all her mistakes and tells her it’s okay, he’ll fix it. Stupid man. She flashes a bit of tit in a low-cut blouse three sizes too small and all of a sudden he’s panting, ready to do his job and hers too. There’s no way those rumors about her and Jim aren’t true.”

  “He’s married.” Randy had been married too. It hadn’t stop
ped him from numerous affairs.

  “Like a piece of paper or gold band stops any man?” Kathy scoffed. “Charlie Jerkins is no better, single or not. Stupid man, chasing every idiot woman dumb enough to give him a tumble.”

  Christine pulled off the broken fingernail and flicked it across the floor. She really didn’t care what Jim and Laci may or may not do, but Charlie hadn’t seemed the type to be taken in by someone like Laci. He’d dated a lot but never been serious. She stared at her ragged manicure. So what did her night with Charlie rate? Some notch on his score sheet? Damn him.

  “—my work load has doubled fixing her mistakes because Jim’s thinking with his nether region and refuses to listen to me about her. Sales are down, customers aren’t happy, and the whole office is the Laci Focus on Me show.” Kathy sighed. “We need you back pronto.” Christine didn’t answer; she had nothing to say. “Hey, listen, I need to run. You’ve kept me sane for another day. Talk to you soon.” Kathy disconnected.

  “Damn you, Charlie Jergens.” Christine tossed the phone on the sofa. “And damn you Laci, Jim, and the whole freaking corporation. I should let the machine get Kathy’s calls because all they do is depress me. And make me talk to myself.” She paced like a wild thing caged. Why did Charlie still have his position while she got placed on leave? Because he knew so many of the corporate administrators, was the up and coming golden boy, or threw great parties? Damn him. “I want to be glad you are unaffected and your position secure, but I’m not such a big person. It’s not fair when your signature appeared on those invoices too. Must be nice to have friends in high places.”

  Christine stalked to her front door and slung it open. Bright sunlight filled the hall, glittering off the polished wood floors and the glass of the new screen door she’d installed with lots of curses and smashed fingers. Fresh air might help vent her anger. “What the hell kind of word is ‘fine’. It’s a damn dead word. Everything will be ‘fine’ he said. Yeah, maybe for him.”

  She traced the splintered wood near the top of the doorframe. She recalled that day, her husband’s funeral. Charlie had taken Adam and Anna to see their paternal grandmother when their Uncle Earl ‘came to right a wrong’. Christine shuddered. Earl had shot at her as she stood in the doorway then shattered three windows while she lay on the floor sobbing and calling the police with Maddy crouched beside her. The officers came and took Earl away. Detectives investigated and asked if she wanted to press charges. She declined just wanting it all over. Earl had persisted, driving by her house, filing lawsuits, calling at all hours, following her when she shopped, anything to harass her until she’d finally taken out a protective order.

  Christine sighed. She should replace these panels before Anna came home from college and Adam moved back in. They were a reminder none of them needed. “I will not let this crap at work get to me just like I didn’t let Earl get to me.” She smacked the wood then waved her stinging hand in the air. “I won’t.” She’d not felt secure enough to leave this door open in months; today she would, her own personal victory. If she survived a lunatic former brother-in-law, she could survive a thief trying to frame her.

  Outside, the tire swing rope marks could still be seen on the giant oak tree, though the swing itself had been gone for years. She should put a bench under there now, a cozy nook to curl up and read. Soon flowers would burst through the ground; all the bulbs she’d planted would create bright, happy colors. She raised her arms, gave a little twirl in the warmth of the sun, and felt simple pure joy in being alive. “I don’t need the old corporation job. I could be a gardener. Or a destination wedding planner. Or someone who restores houses. I really should start serious planning on that second story addition for this place. I’ve wanted it for years. No time like the present to start. I could build it myself.” She gave her yard one last smile, strolled back into her living room to pick up the nail gun and finish the base molding waiting on the covered floor.

  She held it like a pistol, James Bond style. “Ha! Take this, Corporate America! There’s a new free woman in town, and I’ve sanded, painted, ripped, refinished, and polished. The house smells of hardwood floor restorer and new paint, my body aches, and I have bruises on bruises. The home improvement store employees don’t dare call me ‘the little helpless woman’ and know me by my first name now. This house is in better shape than it ever has been. I am woman, hear me hammer!”

  She blasted music and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the shinning window. The house might be awesome, but she had lost weight, a good thing. Her hands were scratched and rough, not soft or delicate. Her fingernails would never be the same. “I’d love to see Laci doing this in biker shorts and a sports bra, Ms. Perfect Hands. Has she touched you with those perfect little hands yet, Charlie boy?” She had a flash of Laci straddling Charlie, his gorgeous body entering hers.

  A loud clack filled the air. “Damn it. Not paying attention is a dangerous thing when using a power tool. Now I’ve nailed the floor and have to rip them out before the molding slides flat. Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She placed the nail gun on the floor and grabbed a hammer to tug the misplaced nails free one by one. A favorite song began to play so she sang along, music to soothe the caged beast. Damn the embezzler, damn Laci, and damn Charlie Jergens.

  ***

  Charlie knocked on the screen door. When there was no answer, he knocked again harder. Music blared, some Celtic beat, as he tried the door handle, and he cursed when it turned. Damn it, Christine knew better than to leave her front door unlocked after the trouble she’d gone through. He opened the door and called, “Christine?”

  Fiddles and pipes swelled, drowning out his voice as he took a second to glance around, more than impressed. Incredible workmanship, not professional, with an uneven seam in the pretty wallpaper along the entry hall and a mismatched piece of crown molding, but an impressive accomplishment for someone who knew nothing about construction and restoration a few years ago. He moved farther inside.

  Beautiful female voices, Celtic Woman, her favorite group, played, and Christine sang with them about being the dawn and the sun and sky. He couldn’t have said it better. God, she sounded incredible. She even sang along when the lyrics switched to Gaelic and his jaw dropped. He had no idea she spoke the language, had all these hidden talents. The music changed as the fiddle took over, and she stood, hips swaying, feet a-flurry as she danced Irish style. He discovered new things about her each time they met, and he couldn’t wait to discover more.

  She wore faded, stained jeans and T-shirt. He’d seen her in suits and skin—God, her skin, so smooth and creamy. He went hard watching her, remembering her warmth under him, over him, around him. The music changed to a slow song of prayer. Christine gave a breathless laugh and dropped to the floor to yank at nails. Charlie heard a muttered curse and had to grin. Only she could curse with a prayer playing in the background and make it seem like it all went together.

  “I’ll get you my pretty,” she said in a crackly voice. “And your little dog too, who’s really a big Hawaiian rat posing as a dog.”

  He chuckled, and her head whipped around, utter shock on her face. “Surprise.” Christine’s beautiful eyes widened dark with joy and then something else. God, he’d missed her. Some might say he’d made a career ending mistake being here. Charlie didn’t give a damn. He wanted his best friend; he needed Christine. He walked toward her and she dropped the tool. Just when he thought she’d leap into his arms—she punched him right in the gut. He doubled over, trying to get his breath back. She packed one hell of a punch in more ways than one. God Almighty, it hurt. What the hell?

  He met the blazing fire in her expression. Her hands slammed onto her hips. “How the hell did you get in here?”

  “The door...knocked...opened,” Charlie gasped out. He’d broken bones that hurt less. He thought she needed protection? Not this time; he pitied the fool who took her on.

  Christine crossed her arms over her chest, pulling the T-shirt tight. Any other time he�
�d appreciate the view, but not with her in full blown temper. She had power tools and knew damned well how to use them. He finally straightened to rub his sore stomach. “So you just came on in? Nice manners there, Jerkin.”

  Okay, he got the anger now and didn’t blame her, but still. “I detest the mangling of my name and you damn well know it. What the hell? You invited me to stop by anytime I wanted.” I risked my entire career and took four days of personal leave to come here, he wanted to shout, and you’re slugging me and acting like I committed some damned crime just by walking in your house.

  She tossed her head, reminding him of the last time he’d seen her do it, when her body straddled his and she’d worn a wicked grin. Dirt smudged her cheek, but if he tried to wipe it away, she’d no doubt break a couple of his fingers.

  “Problem? Oh, I guess it’s fine you came, huh? Are you still fine as well?”

  Charlie frowned. Why did she stress ‘fine’ as if it were a curse? “Besides being sore from your fist, I’m well and hope you are too.”

  “I’m just fine and dandy.” She marched away, making him grin at the paint smeared on her gorgeous bottom as she bent to turn down the music volume.

  He gestured to encompass the room, hoping to defuse Christine enough to talk calmly about what was irritating her. “The house looks great. You’ve done an excellent job.”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Plus, I had all this free time, a real fine thing.”

  Now he got it. The corporation had put her on administrative leave and did nothing but state they would monitor him. Peg now had a desk at his office even though the threat of possible jail time didn’t hang over his head like Christine’s. He’d be mad as hell too, especially if his replacement was some oversexed slut who knew nothing about purchasing, whose numbers never added up, and who thought outright demands for invitations to his home and bed were appropriate workplace conversations. He did everything to discourage Laci, including letting his administrative assistant filter any calls from her and place all the orders. “I wish I could explain.”