Castle of Dark Dreams 01 Color Me Wicked

by Nina Bangs

  COLOR ME WICKED

  Nina Bangs

  PROLOGUE

  "Sensational sex with a wicked twist isn't a slam-dunk, Deimos. Trust me, I know. You're talking to a maven of sensual meddling here, and manipulation is my heart, my soul, my ... Fine, so I'm not into hearts and souls, but you get the idea." Sparkle Stardust crossed her legs and shifted her bottom into a more comfortable position as she perched on the stool behind her candy counter.

  Deimos didn't look impressed. "I'm a cosmic troublemaker just like you. What you can do, I can do, too."

  "But I can do it better, babe. You're getting a chance to learn from the best. Specialization is where its at, and my unique talent lies in hooking up couples who're, well, completely wrong for each other. If I'm lucky, they hate each other. I use my immense power to drag them, er . . . guide them gently toward sexual nirvana. I decided to mentor you because I sensed your deep well of untapped potential for creating sexual mayhem. So how does that work for you?"

  Ignoring the hem of her black dress that slithered higher up her thigh with each wiggle, she frowned at her toenails exposed by fuchsia Jimmy Choo sandals with six-inch heels. Her fave shoes. They made a statement: I'm hot, armed, and dangerous. Great shoes created a positive work environment. "Chipped polish alert. Remind me to do my toenails tonight. Perfect nail color feeds my emotional well-being."

  Deimos offered her a sulky glare. He crouched in all his feline splendor on the sill of the store's front window. He'd chosen to take the form of an Ocicat, a domestic cat that looked like a miniature leopard. She applauded his visual impact and wild dramatic appearance. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the jungle.

  "It doesn't work at all. Cosmic troublemakers are supposed to spread chaos throughout the universe. Solar explosions that fry planets, Planet X collisions that pulverize unsuspecting worlds, ice ages that freeze whole continents—really big important stuff like that. And I don't care about sex or your damn toes." He lifted his lips in a silent snarl. "And why the hell do I have to be a cat?"

  "Mmm. Such passionate aggression. I love it. Bad attitudes are sexy." Sparkle laid both palms flat on the glass countertop and studied her nails. "When did you come into being, Deimos?" Maybe she'd try a different nail color, a deep, sensual shade of red. "What do you think, should I change colors? Maybe I'll try Dark Desire. It gives me yummy shivers just saying its name. I can almost feel the cool slide of it on my nails, see the intense rich shine of it—"

  "Two thousand one, and I don't give a damn about—"

  Sparkle sighed. "I know, you don't give a damn about my nails. You know, you need to seriously get in touch with your senses." She studied him. His lithe cat body fairly thrummed with impatience. So young, so reckless, so stupid. "I'm going to lay everything out for you. First off, it doesn't take any talent to destroy inanimate objects. They don't argue or say no. Messing with human emotions is the real challenge. People never do what you expect them to do."

  "So what's your point?" Deimos yawned to demonstrate his complete lack of interest in messing with human emotions. "You still haven't told me why I have to be a cat. And why can't I talk out loud?"

  Now he was really starting to tick her off. "Look, I've been around for thousands of years, and I have power you can only dream about. So my point is, if I chose to mentor you, then you damn well better get with the program."

  She read the mutinous darkening of his amber eyes, the angry twitch of his tail. Her kick-butt approach wasn't getting the job done. Maybe she needed to appeal to his ego. Males, whether human or nonhuman, were Silly Putty in the hands of a smart woman who knew how to stroke their egos.

  Sparkle transformed her expression into her favorite persona: the sensual seductress. She'd practiced and perfected it over the centuries. Now she aimed it at the mini jungle-kitty glaring at her from across the store.

  "Come here, cutie." She crooked her finger at him. He padded over to the counter.

  "Sit here." She indicated the chair next to him that she always kept ready for any male customer, usually elderly, who grew weak from exposure to all of her erotic intensity.

  Deimos leaped for the chair, a soaring graceful arc that fell about three inches short of his target. He managed to hook his front paws onto the seat and hung there with back paws treading air. Sparkle leaned across the counter, grabbed the back of his neck, and lifted him onto the seat. "Your eye-paw coordination is still a little off, but it'll get better." A lie. He was a klutz.

  Before he had a chance to whine, Sparkle scratched behind his ears and then slid her fingers the length of his back. She felt him relax beneath her touch. "I chose you out of all the newbie cosmic troublemakers because I saw the possibility for greatness in you, Deimos. And all of the most famous cosmic troublemakers have taken cat forms at one time or another. Cats are beautiful, intelligent, and deliciously sneaky. Perfect for spying. I bet you'll make an incredible spy."

  Deimos blinked as the anger faded from his eyes. "Yeah?" If he wasn't careful, his expanding pride would puff him up like a balloon, and he'd just float away. "I'll have to communicate mentally so no one catches on that I'm a spy."

  Sparkle smiled. "Yeah." But then her smile wavered. "You're lucky I let you choose your cat form. I was forced to be a white cat." She allowed herself a delicate shudder. "White made my butt look huge. It scarred my psyche for months."

  She ignored Deimos's blank look and continued to stroke him. "Only a special few have the talent to impact human lives on a personal level. As soon as I saw you, I knew you were one of the few. You're immensely gifted and have this amazing sexual aura. It just blew me away."

  Deimos practically glowed. "For real? I won't let you down. I'll work my tail off. What's your plan?"

  Gotcha. "Here's the deal. For thousands of years I've served up sex and sin for dessert, so owning a candy store seemed a natural progression. I bought Sweet Indulgence, my little shop of chocolate creams and erotic dreams, because it was next to this Disney World wannabe. I figured that thousands of people would pour into Galveston to visit the theme park, and I'd have lots of potential victims to scope out."

  Deimos washed his face with one spotted paw. "Makes sense."

  "Uh-uh. Didn't work out. The only ones who walked through my door were young couples trailing their two point five sticky-fingered kiddies after them. They were so not the clientele I'd hoped for." It hadn't taken long for her to realize she'd either have to sell her store or get rid of the theme park.

  "So I had my attorney buy the park. I've renamed it Live the Fantasy, and I envision a reality theme park where adults can role-play wild adventures. Always wanted to be the captain of a pirate ship? You've got it at Live the Fantasy. The park is G rated, so the city fathers expect everyone to have good clean fun." Her smile was filled with wicked intent. "They're kidding, right? How boring is that? The only good fantasy is a sexual fantasy. I get yummy shivers just thinking about the lust a few intense fantasies will generate." Sparkle felt tingly all over, the reaction of a true sexual visionary. "I foresee thousands of people jump-starting their sputtering sex lives after a visit to Live the Fantasy."

  Deimos's whiskers twitched with excitement. "Wow, sounds great. Hey, when you get bored with the whole theme park thing, can I level it with a tsunami?"

  Sparkle didn't have the heart to crush all that hopeful puppy dog eagerness. "We'll see."

  She glanced down at the old Ball High yearbook she'd been studying before Deimos showed up. "I'm getting ready to transform the Happy Castle into the Castle of Dark Dreams. I was in the middle of choosing someone to do the exterior and interior painting, and then I have to pick an interior designer. I'll have my la
wyer do the actual hiring. I don't want anyone to know I own the park."

  Deimos put his front paws on the counter so he could peer at the book. "Anyone special in mind?"

  Sparkle slid the tip of her tongue across her lower lip. Oh, yessss. She got all shivery with anticipation at the sensual world of possibilities ahead. "I have two people who'll be perfect for the jobs. I'm about to turn up the heat in our little fantasy park and see what burns."

  CHAPTER ONE

  "What a wonderful blending of form and function. It projects an aura of towering strength with an intriguing touch of dark and dangerous." Sparkle Stardust swept her arms wide to emphasize her opinion of the Castle of Dark Dreams. Her cat crouched beside her, his unblinking gaze proclaiming that he was bored, bored, bored.

  "No kidding." Amanda Harcourt was more focused on specifics than Sparkle. She stared across the moat. A man stood on a short ladder painting trim around the outer-wall gate. His back was to them.

  Form and function. Mmm. A wonderful form. And said form was functioning very well as far as she could see. He'd stripped to the waist in the blazing June sun and his worn jeans hugged every line of his firm butt and long legs. Fascinated, she watched the flow of muscles beneath bronzed skin as he made smooth, even strokes with his brush.

  Dark and dangerous? Worked for her. The light breeze lifted his dark hair from his neck. Hair that was a little too long and a little too shaggy. Sexy elemental male vibes shimmered off him in waves.

  During the ten years she'd spent in New York honing her interior designing skills, she'd had plenty of opportunities to hook up with a fair sampling of the city's male population. Major disappointments. But maybe now that she was back home in Galveston for a while, she'd dip her toe into the hot and oh-so-alpha Texas male pool. She deserved some fun.

  "He has a sensual quality that goes with the castle, doesn't he?" Sparkle sounded amused.

  Amanda blinked and looked at Sparkle. "What?"

  "Your sexy painter." Sparkle's amber eyes gleamed with sly knowledge. "Hey, I understand."

  Okay, now Amanda was officially embarrassed. She'd spent ten years stomping the old Amanda Harcourt into submission and rebuilding her business and personal image into the one her wealthy clients loved—cool and in control. She was sophisticated-hip. No emotional artistic phoniness for her. And she paid attention to details. A calm casual elegance gave her clients confidence in her. She was wearing a cream sleeveless dress today because light neutrals were her favorite colors. That hadn't always been true, but neutrals fed people's perception of her, and perception was everything.

  Cool, elegant, and in control didn't ogle painters, at least not during working hours.

  But something told her a lie wouldn't fool Sparkle. "I've been away from Texas too long. I forgot how much heat Texas guys can generate." She shrugged and smiled. "If I need to stare, I should walk across Sea Wall Boulevard and go down to the beach. I'll find plenty of buff bods wearing a lot less."

  "I guess." Sparkle looked doubtful. "But they won't have his sizzle." She studied the buff bod with the brush. "Look at him—yummy broad shoulders, and that muscular back gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. Doesn't it make you feel all prickly to think about trailing your fingers over his warm bare skin?" She fixed Amanda with an unblinking stare that had the same feline intensity as her pet. "There's nothing more arousing than watching a strong man working a well-toned body. It's that primitive need every woman has to take the most physically powerful male into her bed and—"

  "Oh, wow." Amanda glanced at her watch. "I've taken up all of your lunch hour. I really appreciate you taking time to show me the park, but I guess you have to get back to your store now." Please have to get back to your store.

  Sparkle offered her an exaggerated sigh as she pushed her long red hair away from her face. "I suppose I should get back, but I'll let Deimos tag along with you. He loves snooping around in the castle." She glanced down at the spotted cat before raising her gaze once again to Amanda. "No one knows who owns the park. Everything goes through the lawyer. I've helped him out a few times, because I'm the neighborly type. But I'm curious about all the secrecy. Are you supposed to meet the owner here?"

  Amanda frowned at the cat, and the cat stared intently back at her. Wasn't Sparkle afraid her cat would run into the street? "No, but the attorney should be here any minute now. I've never spoken to the owner." Didn't the cat ever blink?

  "Hmm, strange. Well, have fun, sister." Sparkle's smile said the fun she had in mind didn't have anything to do with decorating. "And don't worry, Deimos won't go into the street."

  A cosmic coincidence. They'd both been thinking about the cat wandering into the street at the same time. Amanda watched Sparkle walk away, although "walk" didn't say it at all. Her swing and sway said "man-catcher" loud and clear. Amanda spent a few seconds pondering the aesthetics of Sparkle's black shorts and black clingy top. Sure they were sexy, but . . . Amanda did a few mental headshakes to clear away the weirdness that had accumulated over the last few days.

  Why had she dropped everything to take this job? Good grief, she'd left New York to decorate a castle. What did she know about decorating castles? And who really had a name like Sparkle Stardust? Amanda must've tripped and fallen headfirst into Alice's rabbit hole.

  Without permission, her gaze drifted back to the hunky painter. There were other people working on the castle, but none so visually stimulating. She strolled across the drawbridge. His front probably wouldn't be able to live up to the promise of his back. Two halves didn't usually add up to one awesome whole.

  But hey, that was okay, because she needed to focus on her job and nothing else. Mentally plunking her professional glasses on her nose, she studied the castle. Pretty ordinary as castles went. From her brief research, it looked like it was a mixture of several different time periods—a keep with four square towers, and a curtain wall.

  The lawyer had said the great hall and a few other areas would be used for role-playing. The rest of the castle would be for guest rooms, a restaurant, and several shops. She'd never decorated the real deal, but there had to be a first time for everything. Before leaving New York, she'd done a mad research scramble, but had only skimmed the surface.

  Uh-oh. Something was wrong with her professional perspective. As her gaze slid back to The Painter, her glasses morphed into sexy shades, perfect for fun in the sun and viewing bright celestial bodies. Bodies. Amanda sighed her defeat. Curiosity, the Harcourt curse, wouldn't let her concentrate on the castle until she saw his front. So be it.

  Amanda refused to sneak. If New York had taught her anything, it was that you boldly and aggressively pursued your goal. She strode to within a few feet of his ladder and gazed up. So big, so tanned, so authentically male. No research needed to figure that out.

  She narrowed her gaze on his broad back. New York had also taught her how to be devious. "Umm, who's in charge of your paint crew? I need to talk to your boss about—"

  "I own the paint company, so I guess you've found the boss." His voice was a husky and darkly compelling promise that he indeed would always be the boss.

  "Oh. Well, I . . ." Wait. She frowned. There was something familiar about that voice. A deeper and more sensual echo of a voice she'd once known. Dawning horror widened her eyes as the man stepped off the ladder and turned to face her.

  She knew him. Knew that hard face with those light hazel eyes framed by thick dark lashes. Knew the sensual mouth that enhanced his bad-boy image. She hadn't forgotten anything. Not the three-inch scar on his thigh he'd earned while playing running back for Ball High, nor the tattoo on his hip.

  "Mandy?" His voice was erotic promise and unspoken lies.

  Like lemmings, women always swam out way too far in his

  sea of sensual promises and then drowned in those lies. Not her, of course. Never her.

  "Conleth Maguire." Saying his whole name distanced her from him, and she needed all the distance she could get. A few hundred miles minim
um.

  "What dragged you back home, wicked woman?" His smile was slow, welcoming, and a sensual minefield for the unwary. And because she was not unwary, she realized she needed to say something quick to diffuse the power of that smile.

  "Lots of money. The owner hired me to decorate the castle." Home? Amanda had tried for years to reprogram her subconscious to believe New York was home. But standing here staring at Con tugged at something she thought she'd left behind ten years ago.

  "Money. Figures." His smile didn't waver, but the warmth in those incredible eyes cooled just a little.

  What was wrong with money? Money was good. It bought acceptance, love. Okay, maybe not love, but certainly a sincere level of caring. She took a deep breath to renew her brain's oxygen supply. She'd better say something fast before mutually uncomfortable memories filled up the void.

  "So what color scheme did the owner decide to go with for the exterior?" Why hadn't she noticed the color of the trim he was painting? Because you were too busy wiping the drool off your chin, stupid. If she looked now, she'd have to take her eyes off Maguire. Not a good idea.

  Con shrugged. "I get to choose my own colors." He glanced at her dress, stripped her down to bare essentials with his heated stare, and proclaimed her wanting. "I don't like neutrals."

  Capturing her gaze, he slowly rubbed his hand across his chest. "I like colors that burn for me."

  He'd done that on purpose, the jerk. He thought he'd side-track her professional questions by drawing her attention to his chest. His broad muscular chest with dark male nipples and a light scattering of hair damp from his exertions. Of course, he'd failed, because she hadn't noticed at all.

  Colors that burn for me. What exactly did he mean by that? She'd ask, but any question with the word burn in it was bound to send her skipping merrily down the wicked path Con hoped she'd follow. Uh-uh, she was smarter than that.

  What to say? She'd try the time-honored Galveston ice-breaker, "Do you think Hurricane Billy Bob will come into the Gulf?" but Con would manage to make something sexual out of the hurricane, too. She'd be safer sticking to a few professional statements. "I—"