Kinky Curves (Kinky Chronicles Book 5)

by Jodi Redford

  The only things the two Charlies had in common? Their kinkiness, love of dirty words, and infatuation with Grady. He was an intoxicating thrill ride for Phone Sex Charlie. For her real self? A dangerous obsession. She thought about him when she should be focusing on other things—like not getting her head and her heart in another situation she’d regret. The emotional scars hadn’t fully healed from her last foolish mistake. She couldn’t afford to rip them open again.

  “It’s a freakin’ wonder erotica authors weren’t pounding down your door for your services ages ago,” Kaitlin stated, breaking through Charlie’s pensive thoughts.

  “Mostly that’s due to the audio market finally being more accessible to self-publishers. Right now they’re my bread and butter.” Not entirely the truth. She made more money with her sex chat business, but Kait knew nothing about that side of Charlie’s life.

  A twinge of guilt pricked at her. Keeping any secret from Kait sucked, even if it was necessary. And it sure as hell was. Kait already thought she was going out of her way to avoid men. Not that she wasn’t. But this would give her sister one more nail to hammer in that particular coffin. Because phone sex was clearly not real sex. However, it was a convenient replacement. A way to get her rocks off while maintaining her safe distance from emotional attachments. That’s exactly what Kait would say.

  And she might not be wrong.

  Shaking off that uncomfortably perceptive insight into her psyche, Charlie cleared her throat and gently nudged Hairy from her lap. “Speaking of bread and butter, what does everyone think about breakfast?”

  Hairy offered a low woof. Kait cocked an eyebrow. “He thinks about breakfast in his sleep. Lunch and dinner too. A vast improvement over what his master dreams about, I’m sure.”

  “Um, I know I’ve pointed this out to you a thousand times, but should it really come as a shock that Ford eats, sleeps, and breaths sex? I mean, it is his business.” If anyone knew about the toll a sexy job could have on a person, it was her. Only in Ford’s case, he happened to be the writer and producer of Movietime’s hottest after-hours show, Passion’s Diary. Before he moved behind the scenes, he used to be a leading star in the porn industry. In front of the camera, his skills—and stamina—had been legendary. So was it really any wonder he loved sex? She eyed her sister. “Have you ever watched any of his old movies?”

  Kait’s coloring turned beet red. “No, of course not. I can barely look him in the eye some days as it is.”

  “You are such a pearl-clutching prude.”

  Her sister pressed a hand to her chest, attempting to appear mortally offended. “I am not.”

  “Totally are.”

  “For your information, I’ve watched plenty of pornos. Just not his. And I fully intend to ogle a bunch of male strippers at the shoot we’re filming today.”

  “Holy cow. There are going to be strippers there?” As far as nonchalant inquiries went, that pretty much sucked balls.

  “I see that got your attention.”

  Charlie hitched her shoulder in a shrug. “You have an interesting job. That’s all.”

  “Oh sure. Keep my boss’s dick in his pants, be at his beck and call, and make sure Hairy doesn’t go fishing in the koi pond. The glamor never stops.”

  “It’s not so bad. Plenty of people would kill to be in your shoes.”

  “I know. And there are days I even sorta tolerate Ford and don’t want to kill him. Remember that if I’m ever forced to testify to the contrary. As for you, ya big beast.” Kait gave Hairy a noogie. “No more pond diving. You reek like hell afterward and I have to listen to Penelope wax poetic about the bossman’s love tool—her words, not mine.”

  Grinning at her sister’s over the top shudder, Charlie lifted from the couch. “And on that note, we’re having sausages for breakfast.”

  She got no complaints from her dining companions. Although, Hairy did look exceedingly mopey about only getting one scrambled egg and a strip of bacon. Charlie took a sip of her kale smoothie and sighed. I feel your pain, Hairy.

  Kait chewed a couple bites of her fluffy omelet before squinting at Charlie. “Speaking of ponds, is there any particular reason you’re drinking the contents of one instead of eating actual human food?”

  “This is human food. I would have made you one but I know your stance on kale.”

  “That it was put on this earth to test our gag reflex? Yeah, no thanks.” Kait gobbled the final nibble of her eggs, her focus still glued to Charlie.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “But clearly you want to.” Charlie exhaled heavily. “So say it.”

  “You’re not fat, sis. Don’t let those stupid fuckers destroy your confidence.”

  The smoothie had nothing on the bitter aftertaste in her mouth. She appreciated her sister’s ferocious belief in those words, but it was no easy feat slaying the demons of Charlie’s past. “This has nothing to do with my weight. I’m trying to be healthier.”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Starving yourself isn’t the answer, though.”

  “I’m not.”

  No mistaking the worry that continued to waft from Kait. “I don’t want you to end up in the hospital like before.”

  “I won’t.” She might not have her shit completely together, but she’d never put herself through that nightmare again. Those fuckers—as Kait eloquently put it—might have crushed her soul. But they didn’t succeed in killing her. Though it certainly was a close call for a while there.

  “Good. Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” Kait whispered, tears glimmering in her eyes. “And God knows Hairy would be devastated.”

  As if intent on confirming that on his end, the Newfie butted her shin with his head before peering up at her somberly. Charlie sniffled. “You jerks are going to make me cry.”

  “Hairy, our job here is done.” Nodding, Kait pushed to her feet and carried her empty plate to the sink. “Now I just have strippers to look forward to. Woe is me.”

  “Sure, rub it in. Meanwhile, the rest of us only get to read about them.”

  Kait shot a look over her shoulder, her eyebrows twin arches. “You’re doing audio for a stripper book?”

  “I was speaking hypothetically. Although I do have a project in the pipeline that does have one.”

  Her sister flicked off the faucet and returned to the kitchen table. The crafty gleam in her gaze was Charlie’s first clue that she probably wouldn’t like whatever Kait had cooking in her devious mind. “You should come to the shoot.”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have work to do.”

  “This is potential research,” Kait wheedled. “And I need you there to keep me from killing Ford. Remember?”

  “I thought you needed me as your alibi.”

  “This way I’ll be covered, regardless.”

  Charlie groaned. “It means I’ll have to put pants on. That’s asking a lot.”

  “I know. I’ll make it up to you. Promise. But honestly, you can stick with your yoga bottoms. All the chicks are doing it these days. Plus it makes your ass look hot.”

  “Wow. An extremely creepy thing to say about your own sister.”

  “I wasn’t speaking for myself, goof. Now if you’re done hemming and hawing, we really should hit the road. I’ve got to drop Hairy off with Mrs. Beechum on the way.”

  “You presume I’m going.”

  “Because you are. So chop-chop.” Kait made the accompanying hand gesture to go with the directive.

  “No wonder Ford is always looking to get laid. Poor man must need constant relief from your bossiness.” Grumping, Charlie pushed up from her seat and trudged to her bedroom. She glanced down at her yoga pants. Hell with it. They were comfy. But her tank needed to go. In addition to the flecks of smoothie that somehow escaped the blender and decided to decorate her boob area, the shirt was snug enough to show off her stubborn muffin top. Like that’d impres
s the strippers.

  She rummaged in her dresser and settled on a loose fitting charcoal blouse with flared sleeves. It was both feminine and blessedly flattering to her curvy shape. She stared down at the deep vee of her cleavage. At least she had that going for her in spades.

  “You have rainbow hair and magnificent tits.”

  She bit back a smile. In reality, she was a brunette. But Grady might be a little bit right about her breasts. Hell, even she liked to play with them. Then again, the only action she saw was from her own hand. And Big BOB.

  Stop complaining. At least you don’t get your heart broken that way.

  She pulled on her flats and ventured to the living room. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get this over with.”

  “You know, you could sound a tad more enthusiastic about going to see strippers.”

  Charlie made a show of plastering on an enormous smile and swinging her arms wildly. “Woohoo! Bring on the strippers!”

  “That’s more like it.” Kait clipped Hairy’s leash to his collar. “Jeeves, lead the way.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Grady had never been remotely tempted by Hollywood’s limelight. Still, pretty damn cool getting to see firsthand all of the behind-the-scenes stuff that went into filming a TV series. He’d made a point of Netflixing Passion’s Diary a few times after finding out they were going to shoot a couple of episodes at the club. His viewing preference usually ran more toward comedies and action flicks. Surprisingly, he’d enjoyed the sexy drama. A lot. Probably helped that it was steamy as hell. Plenty of speculation that the actors—particularly the two main leads—weren’t simulating sex in the scenes. Certainly looked like the real deal to him.

  A grin overtaking her face, Harper joined him at the foot of the stage. “Pretty exciting, huh?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s all right.”

  She slugged him in the arm. “Don’t even try to act all cool and sophisticated, punk. I saw the way you were checking out the cameras.”

  “What? I was chatting with the cam operators and the gaffer.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Look at you saying things like gaffer.”

  “To be honest, I have no fucking clue what he does.”

  “Thank God. I thought I was the only one.”

  He dropped his arm around her shoulder. “Welcome to The Clueless Club.”

  “Ooh, do we have monogrammed jackets?”

  “Management is looking into it.”

  “Excellent.” Harper suddenly straightened and smoothed her hair.

  Her fussing out of character for her, he lowered his arm. That’s when he noticed the guy striding toward them. He hadn’t officially met Ford Beckett, but he was plenty acquainted with the man’s body of work. The dude was a fucking legend. Literally. He couldn’t be more than ten years older than Grady, but a lifetime separated them in terms of pussy. Not that Grady was a freshman. Discounting the last eighteen months or so, he’d certainly partaken in his fair share of mattress mamboing. It had to be a drop in the bucket compared to Beckett, though. And if all the rumors were true, every porn starlet in the industry mourned the day he retired to focus on his production company.

  Beckett drew to a stop in front of them and Harper gifted him with a dazzling smile. “Mr. Beckett, always a pleasure to see you.” The way his cousin practically purred her greeting left zero doubt that it could be interpreted more than one way.

  “Please, call me Ford. And likewise.” He shifted his focus to Grady, his gaze openly curious and friendly.

  Harper snapped to attention. “You two haven’t met. God, I’m such a doofus. Ford, this is my cousin, Grady. Better known as The Grinder. He’s one of our most popular dancers.”

  “The Grinder, huh?” Ford exchanged a handshake with him. “Way more catchy than my old porn name.”

  “Oh, and what would that be?” Harper’s expression was the perfect caricature of chin hands. It took everything Grady had not to bust his cousin by chuckling. He knew damn well she owned almost every movie Ford starred in. She’d admitted it the day she told him Beckett’s production company contacted the club.

  “Ford Frisco. My not so brilliant agent came up with that and my slogan—‘Built to Fuck. Engineered to Last’.” He grimaced. “Bloody horrible.”

  Harper sighed dreamily. “But oh so true.” Grady covertly jabbed her with his elbow and she jogged from her trance. “Anywho...we’re short on the number of guys we promised, but Grady was awesome enough to fill in for one of them. I hope that still works for you.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Ford returned his attention to Grady. “Appreciate you stepping in. Have you done any acting before?”

  Role playing during phone sex didn’t count, most likely. “Not really.”

  “I’m surprised a talent scout hasn’t approached you. You’ve definitely got the looks and physique to do well in the business.”

  He didn’t really know what to say to that. Which naturally meant he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. “I’m not anything special.”

  Harper’s frown was like a laser burning into him, but she held her tongue. It probably killed her not to scold him. She didn’t like it when he said shit like that. But old habits were hard to break. And truthfully, he wasn’t entirely convinced his old man was wrong when it came to the assessment on his lack of specialness. His dad had made it plenty clear that Grady was a huge disappointment who shouldn’t even be walking the earth. Looks didn’t make up for the fact he was dumb as a box of bricks. Those had been his dad’s exact words, hammered into Grady from the day he turned seven and was held back a grade in school because his reading comprehension wasn’t on par with the other kids. It took several more years before the experts diagnosed him with dyslexia, but the damage was already done.

  In his mind, he was defective. Stupid. But he was damn good at faking that he wasn’t. The ability to deflect attention away from his vulnerable weakness by using his looks or his body would always be the struggle deep in his soul. He despised resorting to it, but it was the one thing that always got him through.

  Ford rubbed his chin. “The more I think about it, you’d be perfect for a minor side-shoot story I’ve been playing around with.”

  Harper gasped. “Really?”

  His cousin sounded a hell of a lot more thrilled about the prospect than he did. Not that he wasn’t flattered. Because he was. For sure. But he was a dancer, not an actor. He knew his limitations, and he didn’t want to get in over his head with something completely out of his comfort zone. “I’m not sure I’m qualified.”

  Beckett waved his hand in dismissal. “Hell, neither was I, but that didn’t stop me from thinking I was. This is absolutely within your wheelhouse. Trust me on this.”

  He opened his mouth to dispute Ford’s well intended but misplaced reckoning, but the man suddenly appeared vaguely distracted. Grady followed his gaze toward the entryway, where a statuesque raven-haired woman was chatting with a guy who’d earlier introduced himself as the set designer. Grady paid the pair minimal attention as his focus landed on the brunette standing off to the side of them. She appeared to be intently listening to whatever her companions were saying. Damn good thing too, because he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Woulda been embarrassing as shit to be caught staring. He couldn’t help it.

  She was an absolute brick house. Lush in every place a woman should be. She reminded him of one of those pinup girls from the forties. He’d always had a thing for that look and wasn’t ashamed to say it’s how he tended to picture Charlie. Delectable curves snugged into a vintage-style pink corset complete with garters and silk stockings. It’d be a fantastically sexy outfit for the beautiful bombshell across from him as well. She tucked a lustrous strand of her hair behind her ear and turned her attention to the stage. Their gazes locked for a long moment before she blinked and darted her focus toward Ford. A dusky hue crept over her cheeks.

  Damn. Did she have something going with Beckett? W
hy that possibility triggered a strong twinge of disappointment was beyond him. He didn’t know her. Shouldn’t care one way or another if she was already hooked up with someone.

  Except...for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long, he felt a genuine pull toward a woman. Sure, she was super pretty, so the attraction was definitely there on his part. But he had beautiful women throwing themselves at him on a daily basis. He wasn’t proud to admit it’d probably jaded him. Not that he hadn’t gone to bed with his fair share of those ladies, but he’d never experienced this funny spark in his belly when he was with them. And here he hadn’t even carried on a single conversation with Ms. Angel Face. He was strangely woozy all the same.

  Her gaze flicked back to him and the rosiness of her cheeks deepened several shades.

  Holy hell. Was her blush because of him?

  Noticeably flustered, she snapped her attention to the other woman. A short exchange passed between them and the taller chick pointed to the rear of the club. The angel in yoga pants booked it in the direction of the restrooms.

  He made an executive decision right then and there. Soon as she returned, he was going to talk to her. Look her straight in the eye like a true gentleman—though shit knows, those knockout tits were gonna challenge his ability to focus and keep his gaze trained above her neck—and he’d say something witty and clever.

  Like Hi.

  Jesus. Better practice in his head beforehand.

  The lead camera operator approached Ford. “Everything’s about ready to go. Just need the dancers on the stage so we can block the scene.”

  Ford nodded and looked to Grady. “Meet you up there in a sec.”

  So much for blowing away Ms. Angel Face with his sparkling dialog. Regret washing over him, he trudged toward the stairway. Hopefully, she’d still be here when they wrapped up the shoot. If she was, he’d take it as a sign the universe was in support of this newfangled desire of his to actually woo a flesh and blood female. If she didn’t stick around? The universe could go fuck itself in the ass.