The first night was a dare. The second night was trouble...
Advertising guru Olivia Masterson is all work and no play. But on the eve of earning her dream promotion, her best friend dares her to drop her ice queen façade for one night and seduce a sexy stranger. Olivia’s worked her ass off to get where she is—why the hell not?
Cole Bennett never thought he’d run into his feisty one-night stand at the office, furious that he stole her promotion. No matter how hard she tries to ice him out, they can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves…or their clothes on.
Olivia’s talented—maybe even more than Cole—so when his dropped hints to the boss net her a promotion of her own, he’s ready to celebrate...until she accuses him of fueling office rumors that she slept her way to the top. She wants to earn her own way? Fine. So what the hell does a guy have to do to permanently melt an ice queen?
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
If you love sexy romance, one-click these steamy Brazen releases… Wicked Heat
Make Me, Take Me
Against the Wall
No Romance Required
Game for Tonight
Falling for the Enemy
Playing the Part
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Bonds. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit www.brazenbooks.com.
Edited by Heather Howland
Cover design by Heather Howland
Photography by Shutterstock
ISBN 978-1-63375-253-5
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition April 2015
For my husband, Matt, whose unwavering support and endless patience has allowed me to make my dreams a reality.
Chapter One
Olivia Masterson surveyed the Friday night clientele of Olive or Twist and came to the disturbing conclusion that she might be the only single twenty-something in the city of New York who wasn’t ruled by her libido. Was she doing something wrong? It appeared she was the only one in the sleek bar not looking to get flat-out drunk tonight. Or laid. The proof was sitting right across the table from her in the form of her best friend Chloe, who was too busy checking out the competition to actually listen to a word she said.
Despite the swell of raging hormones, the atmosphere of the bar was relaxed, with its dim lights, high top tables, and soft jazz music. That was one of the reasons she had chosen it. The other had to do with its proximity to the office, which was just down the block.
Truth be told, she’d rather be at home, curled up with a carton of chicken lo mein and her Kindle, but Chloe had insisted they stop for a drink to celebrate Olivia’s imminent promotion to partner at Pritchard and Associates, the advertising agency where they both worked. So there she was, spending her Friday night in a bar where the martinis were flowing and so were the pickup lines, and all she could think about was Chinese takeout.
Whatever that said about her, she wasn’t going to dwell on it.
“Come on, Liv!” Chloe pouted, signaling the waitress for another round of drinks. “Loosen up already.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me all liquored up and take advantage of the situation,” Olivia teased, popping a blue cheese stuffed olive in her mouth. Another perk of the martini bar—they had divine olives and weren’t shy about dishing them out.
“You should be so lucky,” Chloe countered, polishing off her drink with a rather unladylike gulp. “Considering the lack of actual sex in your sex life, I’d probably be the best you ever had.”
“Hey…” Olivia’s protest trailed off in a halfhearted sigh. How could she argue with that logic? She hadn’t had a man in her bed in, well, years. It was a wonder she and Chloe had become such good friends. Chloe was a hopeless romantic desperately seeking Mr. Right, and Olivia spent most of her free time holed up in the office working on pitches. Not exactly glamorous, but in her experience, the road to success rarely was.
Determined to make partner before her thirtieth birthday, she had made a lot of sacrifices in order to prove her father, and everyone else who doubted her abilities, wrong. She’d had plenty of motivation along the way. Her first year on the job, one of her coworkers had stabbed her in the back, telling everyone at the office she was shaking her ass up the corporate ladder. That little rumor had forced her to work twice as hard as everyone else. And even then it had taken months for people to stop whispering behind her back.
“I’m serious, Liv. There’s more to life than work, you know. And you can bet your Jimmy Choo’s the job won’t keep you warm at night, so I’m going to let you in on one of life’s little secrets, okay? When you die, no one’s going to care if it says partner, or president, or fry cook on your epitaph.”
Chloe shifted on her stool and tossed a handful of dark curls over her shoulder. She scanned the bar subtly. Always trolling for a man, Olivia thought as she watched her friend. Chloe had the curves of a bygone era and had yet to find a man who could handle them. Then again, maybe it wasn’t her curves that were the problem. Chloe had a larger than life personality and when her heart-shaped lips parted, there was no telling what might come pouring out.
“When Pritchard promotes you on Monday—”
“Don’t you mean if Pritchard promotes me?” Olivia corrected. “There’s no guarantee.”
“Whatever.” As usual, Chloe was quick to wave off the voice of reason. “Pritchard practically promised you that partnership if you landed the Bianchi account, which you did. Besides, what else could he want to see you about?”
“Who knows?”
Olivia rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had taken up permanent residence. Under normal circumstances, she thrived under pressure. Too bad these weren’t normal circumstances. Ever since Pritchard had sent her the cryptic meeting request, she’d been wound tighter than a Manhattan facelift. She deserved this promotion. She wanted this partnership so bad she could taste it. It tasted a hell of a lot like humble pie, which she’d be too happy to serve up to her family on a silver platter from Tiffany.
Chloe made a rude noise in the back of her throat and scrunched up her nose. “God knows it’s not like the old toad to skip his Monday morning squash game. He’s definitely up to something.”
Olivia shot her friend a disapproving look. Pritchard wasn’t that bad. Sure, h
e was a little temperamental, but he had a good heart and had always treated her fairly. He’d given her a shot five years ago and she’d stand by him as long as he did the same for her. Even so, with the meeting weighing on her mind, Olivia didn’t know how she was going to get through the weekend. “Can we please talk about something else? I don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.”
For good reason. Thrust into beauty pageants from the time she could walk, Olivia had been crowned a Dairy Princess, an Apple Blossom Princess, and a hundred other ridiculous things she didn’t care to remember. But it made her parents happy and earned money for college. Win-win, right? Problem was, the more pageants she won, the less people actually saw her. Olivia became known as a pageant princess, nothing more, nothing less.
It didn’t matter she’d had the highest GPA in her class or that she was the editor of the high school newspaper. No one cared that she’d started the civic club or volunteered at the food bank. It didn’t even matter that she’d been accepted to Cornell. Any hope of being seen as more than a pretty face evaporated.
Back home, everyone assumed she would become some rich businessman’s trophy wife and live in a stupid house in the Hamptons. Well, screw that. She was writing her own plan and she’d done pretty damn well for herself so far. She was successful, self-reliant, and happy. Mostly. All she needed was this promotion.
And for people not to assume she’d slept her way to the top.
“Well, he’d be stupid not to promote you,” Chloe continued, unfazed. “You’ve been busting your ass for the last five years.” She paused as the waitress dropped off their drinks: a dry martini for Olivia and a cosmopolitan for Chloe. “You deserve that promotion,” she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face, “and a night of hot, dirty sex.”
Choking on her drink, Olivia fixed her friend with a death glare she hoped would end the depressing conversation about her sex life, or notable lack thereof. She certainly didn’t need a reminder that the only orgasms she’d had this year had come from a purple beaver vibrator.
“Seriously, Liv. You deserve, like, a whole weekend of raunchy sex,” Chloe assured her, head bobbing up and down. “The dirtier the better.”
“Charming.” Olivia rolled her eyes and opened the top button on her blouse. Spring was in the air and at the front of the open air restaurant the glass windows had been rolled up, admitting a light breeze which kissed her skin as it floated across the bar. It was her favorite time of year, and she relished walking through the city’s parks as they came to life at the end of a cold, slush-filled winter.
Of course, she could enjoy the changing season a lot more if Chloe would get off her back.
Guilt seized her at the thought. Chloe meant well and she was a good friend to put up with Olivia’s ridiculous work schedule. Hell, without Chloe, she’d probably never leave the office. Their friendship was basically the only thing that could challenge her reputation as the office “Ice Queen”—not interested in making friends, definitely not interested in dating.
“Answer me this.” Chloe’s brown eyes sparkled with mischief and Olivia worked to suppress a groan. No need to guess where this line of questioning was headed. As if she’d read Olivia’s mind, Chloe asked playfully, “When was the last time you got laid or even went on a date, Ice Queen?”
“Umm,” she stalled. She knew the answer to the first question, but no way was she admitting that. As for the last date she’d been on? She really couldn’t remember. Maybe Chad? He’d taken her to see the latest Hollywood thriller, which had totally sucked. It was their first and only date. “Last date? I went to the movies with Chad, that guy from the gym, last summer.”
“Liv, that was two summers ago,” Chloe returned quietly, a look of pity clouding her face.
“Oh, hell.” Leaning back on her stool, she crossed her arms over her chest. Had it really been that long? Did it even matter? She was so close to reaching her goal. Dating could wait. She was only twenty-eight, after all, and she wasn’t looking to get tied down any time soon. Not that it looked like she was in any danger of that anyway.
“You know what I think?” Chloe asked, not bothering to wait for a reply. “You need to adjust your expectations.”
“And you’re going to help me with that?”
“Take it from me,” Chloe grumbled. “I’ve got a long list of one-night stands to prove that a night of great sex doesn’t equal ‘I do’. Why deny your carnal urges? Look around.” She gestured to the crowd. “Are you really that oblivious to all this sexy man candy?”
“I appreciate a good looking guy as much as the next girl, but—”
“Bullshit,” Chloe argued, crossing her arms and giving her ample breasts an unnecessary lift that was sure to turn a few heads.
“What? I do!”
“Oh, really?” Chloe smirked, locking eyes with Olivia. “Prove it, Ice Queen.”
“Would you cut that out? What are you even talking about?”
“I dare you to seduce one of these delicious stud muffins,” Chloe challenged, a lascivious grin transforming her face. “And I get to choose which one.”
“Man candy? Stud muffins?” Olivia arched her brow. “Are you hungry? Do you need me to get you a snack?”
“I. Dare. You.”
“You cannot be serious.” Olivia scoffed, tapping her fingers idly on the table and avoiding Chloe’s intense stare. “What are we, twelve? I am not going to have sex with some random guy on a dare.”
“Your loss,” Chloe chided, smiling coyly. “Don’t you at least want to see what you’re missing?”
Unable to deny her curiosity, she twisted in her chair, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who’d inspired such a ballsy challenge. When her gaze settled on Chloe’s choice, she was sorry she’d looked. The guy was insanely hot. Tall, broad shouldered, and oozing confidence, he was exactly the kind of guy she would be attracted to—if she were in the market for a one-night stand, which she wasn’t. Still, it was impossible to ignore the slow burn moving south from her belly as she drank in his smoldering good looks.
Crap! His gaze swung toward her and she knew she’d been caught staring. Real smooth. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, refusing to shrivel under the heat of his gaze. She wasn’t one of those girls. And judging by the light in his eyes, he kind of liked that. She couldn’t quite make out the color, but their ravenous look left no doubt as to his intentions.
Olivia had never been a believer in lust at first sight, but apparently her body hadn’t gotten the message. Like a lit fuse, desire raced through her, awakening urges that had been dormant too long. Maybe Chloe was doing her a favor after all. It had been a while, and the prospect of having those masculine hands wrapped around her body instead of the stem of a martini glass was promising.
…
Cole Bennett eyed his martini with a mixture of appreciation and discontent, trying to decide if he should order another. The martini was damn near perfect, but it wasn’t exactly his drink of choice. He preferred a nice smooth scotch any day of the week, but what the hell. The night was young and he didn’t have anywhere else to be. It also didn’t hurt that he was getting top notch service from the busty, bottle blonde bartender he’d pegged for the actress/model type. He’d smile and tip her well, but that was as far as it would go. It was his first night back in New York, and he was determined to be on his best behavior.
More than anything, he was glad to be home. Home meant a New York slice and more time with his sister, Anna. Growing up, he’d always looked out for her, but thirty-five hundred miles had forced him to step back and recognize her independence. Although he grudgingly accepted her adulthood, it was comforting to know he was only a short drive away if she needed him.
Sure, there were certain things he’d miss about London, but his lifestyle was far better suited to the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. It was no secret to anyone who knew him that he lived on the edge, with his penchant for fast cars, hard liquor, and high stakes. After all, life wa
s meant to be lived and he was determined to go full throttle after what he wanted. It was that tenacity which had earned him his first million and almost ruined him in London, where going after what—or rather, who—he’d wanted had nearly cost him everything he’d worked so hard to build. That was a mistake he wouldn’t be repeating, but it didn’t mean he was going to change his lifestyle any time soon. He nearly laughed at the thought.
For years, Anna had been bugging him to settle down and start a brat pack of his own, but there was no way in hell that was happening. Cole Bennett didn’t settle for anything. Besides, hadn’t fantasizing about that happily-ever-after bullshit been what had burned him in London? He’d seen enough broken families, including his own, to know a fairytale when he saw one.
No, Cole liked his life just fine. He especially liked the hot blonde he’d been admiring for the last half hour. Too bad it was her sultry looking friend who was undressing him with her eyes.
He wasn’t interested.
Cole set down his drink and focused on the blonde. She exuded class with a snug skirt that hugged her subtle curves and a hint of cleavage peeking through the open collar of her crisp white blouse. Just the thought of twisting his fingers in that honey-blond ponytail had his palms itching. And those legs. He had always been a leg man and hers were first class all the way.
Fortunately for his newfound resolve, she didn’t look like the one-night stand type. She was completely focused on her friend and hadn’t looked his way once. Nor had she looked at anyone else in the crowded bar.
There was a time when he would have jumped at the challenge, but he was older and wiser now and had seen firsthand what kind of trouble that could bring. There were plenty of women who were looking for a night of great sex, no more and no less, so why borrow trouble by screwing with the ones who wanted more?
Shit.
Who was he kidding? If he sat there much longer, he’d have a full blown hard-on at the mere thought of slipping between those thighs. He needed to get that second drink, or a change of scenery.
Without warning, her stool swiveled and she met his stare straight on, as though she’d felt the heat of his gaze all along. There was no mistaking the burning desire that flared in her clear blue eyes while she stared at him unabashedly.
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