IOU Sex

by Calista Fox

  IOU Sex

  By Calista Fox

  Fiona Carlisle didn’t think anything could hurt as much as finding her fiancé in bed with her sister. But receiving an invitation to the happy couple’s engagement party comes a close second. Determined to prove to her family and herself that she’s moved on, Fiona has every intention of attending, looking red-hot and with an even hotter man on her arm. And there’s only one man who will do: renowned photographer and reputed playboy Michael Houston.

  Fiona’s rebound fling with Michael was a brief but erotic romp. Michael has made no secret of the fact that he’s still interested. So when Fiona asks him to escort her to the engagement party, he agrees, with one condition: she must spend a sensual weekend with him picking up where they left off.

  Intensely attracted to Michael, Fiona can’t resist his offer for long. But when the weekend is over, will she be able to resist giving him her heart?

  20,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  I feel as though it was just last week I was attending 2010 conferences and telling authors and readers who were wondering what was next for Carina Press, “we’ve only been publishing books for four months, give us time” and now, here it is, a year later. Carina Press has been bringing you quality romance, mystery, science fiction, fantasy and more for over twelve months. This just boggles my mind.

  But though we’re celebrating our one-year anniversary (with champagne and chocolate, of course) we’re not slowing down. Every week brings something new for us, and we continue to look for ways to grow, expand and improve. This summer, we’ll continue to bring you new genres, new authors and new niches—and we plan to publish the unexpected for years to come.

  So whether you’re reading this in the middle of a summer heat wave, looking to escape from the hot summer nights and sultry afternoons, or whether you’re reading this in the dead of winter, searching for a respite from the cold, months after I’ve written it, you can be assured that our promise to take you on new adventures, bring you great stories and discover new talent remains the same.

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

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  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Dare I?

  The loaded question was one I’d pondered on and off for over a week. Staring at the garment bag hanging on the back of my closed office door, I contemplated the gem concealed behind the zipper. A siren of a dress. Red. Slinky. Sexy as hell. It’d set me back a small fortune when I’d ordered it from Barneys New York, but I’d really had no choice. Desperate times and all that.

  I’d yet to try it on, but when I’d ordered it from the website, I’d easily gleaned it was the type of dress meant to make jaws drop and tongues wag. Precisely what I needed for my younger sister’s engagement party. My risqué ensemble would no doubt distract my family from their usual nitpicks and might even possess the power to stun them all into silence. A first in their collective lives.

  My suit of armor was one strategic survival tactic for the weekend’s ostentatious event. The pièce de résistance would be to have a devastatingly handsome man by my side. A nonverbal eat-your-heart-out directed at my sister’s fiancé, Seth Corbett III. The man I was supposed to marry. That love train had jumped the tracks when I’d discovered him and Lizzie in our bed together. Doing things Seth had never done to me in the three years we’d been together.

  Oh, it was hell having to face the two of them with a smile. Hence, the need to arm myself. And I knew just the deliciously sinful man to take with me to the party. Michael Houston. Famous photographer. Master flirt. Hottie extraordinaire.

  Michael had been my rebound guy after Seth and Lizzie had ripped the rug out from underneath me. He’d also done things Seth had never done to me in the bedroom.

  Thinking of my very brief, albeit ultrasteamy affair with Michael made my cheeks flush and my clit tingle. A natural response to such a wicked man.

  It also caused that loaded question to pop into my head again.

  Dare I?

  Wearing the curve-hugging, off-the-shoulder dress to the engagement party would take all the nerve I possessed. Which wasn’t a lot, unfortunately. Fiona Carlisle was a sensible, conservative twenty-seven-year-old woman. Not a femme fatale, by any stretch of the imagination.

  Asking Michael to be my date for the evening would also test my willpower because he was damn difficult to resist. He liked to be bad, plain and simple. He was completely unapologetic about his flirtatious nature and highly skilled when it came to seducing women. He’d certainly swept me off my feet—right as I’d sworn off men because of Seth’s infidelity.

  Michael was a renowned womanizer. He liked the thrill of the chase. I suspected he considered me a challenge because he was typically in hot pursuit of me whenever he was in town. Somehow I’d managed to not fall into his bed again following our little fling. No easy feat.

  In fact, his persuasiveness made me hesitant to ask him for this ginormous favor. I feared the sexual itch I had recently developed, now in desperate need of being scratched, would weaken my defenses. The last thing I wanted was to cave to temptation. As exciting—and satisfying—as sex with Michael was, I’d barely escaped my last go-around with him without incurring more damage to my heart. He had the ability to make good girls like me fall a little too hard.

  As I considered all this, my assistant’s voice came over the intercom.

  “Bad news,” Jane said with a hint of warning. “Your mother’s on line two.”

  I sighed. It was about the tenth time this week she’d called me about Lizzie’s extravagant shindig at a prestigious vineyard in Napa.

  “Thanks,” I said before lifting the receiver. I took a quick breath and prepared myself for yet another conversation I’d prefer not to have. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Fiona Leslie Carlisle,” the very high-and-mighty Judge Briana Carlisle barked in her, well, high-and-mighty voice. “I just got off the phone with Andre. He said you have yet to make an appointment for Saturday morning.”

  Oh, this again. “I told you I’d have my hair done by Manuel, remember? My stylist.”

  “Darling, Andre always does the Carlisle women’s hair before an event.” A slight whine laced her otherwise authoritative tone, having a similar effect as fingernails on a chalkboard. “Why must you be so different from the rest of us?”

  I bit back a groan. There was no point in telling her I hated how her stylist attempted to make my hair do things it simply wasn’t meant to do. I didn’t particularly like how he tried to get my hair to defy gravity with an entire can of hairspray that took a triple shampoo, rinse and repeat to get out. Nor did I care to sit in his chair for hours listening to how much easier it was to coif my mother’s, sister’s and all six of my aunts’ hair. Or to tell him for the hundredth time that no, I didn’t want to color my dark auburn hair to match Mother and Lizzie’s delicate strawberry blond. Nor did I want him to cut my long strands into a chic bob like they both wore.

  Standing my ground, I said, “It’s nice that you want us all to look similar, but I’ve already had my hair trimmed and deep-conditioned once this week. I think it’ll be just fine for to
morrow’s party.”

  She made a soft tsking noise on the other end of the line, as she was frequently prone to do when speaking with me.

  “Is there anything else you needed?”

  She hated when I dismissed her. Likely the reason she latched onto another topic of conversation. Our talks weren’t over until she decided they were over. “Do arrive on time tomorrow. Promptly at three o’clock.”

  “Of course.”

  “And wear something a little more…festive.”

  I smiled, despite my previous waffling. Oh, Mother. You have no idea how festive I have the potential to be!

  “I ordered a dress from Barneys,” I told her. “I’m sure it’ll be quite lively for the occasion.”

  “Hmm.”

  I knew she didn’t believe me. She, like the rest of my family, would expect to see me in a simple black sheath with pearls or a navy pinstripe suit, also with pearls. Festive to my mother meant something sparkly in a soft, subtle hue, with a designer label attached to it. I didn’t do sparkles, but still…what a shock to the system they’d all get tomorrow. Wait until they got a load of me in my racy red dress.

  The decision to wear it was now solidified. Yes, I did dare!

  “Mother,” I said. “I’ve really got to go.” I needed to call Michael. No two ways about it, I absolutely had to have him with me tomorrow.

  “You’re bringing someone, aren’t you?” she continued as though I hadn’t spoken.

  “Of course.” I cringed since I hadn’t yet asked him. Though in truth, I had little doubt he’d help me out. I knew he was back in town and would do this favor for me. He was that type of guy. Of course, he’d expect something in return. Tit for tat. It was a game we played when I needed his professional photography assistance for one of my public relations gigs.

  Luckily, I knew a bottle of his favorite Scotch would grease the wheels.

  “You’re seeing someone, then?” she queried. “You haven’t mentioned anyone in a very long while.”

  I’d introduced Michael to my family a year ago. They’d been quite impressed I’d landed him. Disappointed I hadn’t kept him.

  “I have a client on the other line,” I lied. I didn’t want to throw out the name of my date, on the off chance I couldn’t persuade Michael to traverse this landmine with me.

  “Fine. Don’t be late tomorrow.”

  “I promise to be at Lizzie’s party at three.”

  “Oh, darling. We don’t call her that anymore. She’s a grown woman, about to be married. It’s Elizabeth now. Do try to remember that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Mother. Gotta go.” I disconnected the call before she could launch into another subject. I’m sure that infuriated her.

  Sitting back in my chair, I wondered just how badly I’d screwed myself. Perhaps I should have made up an excuse and told her I had an event to manage tomorrow. Then again, if I mentioned work, she’d likely go on and on about how tragic and humiliating it was that I hadn’t followed the four-generation tradition of practicing law.

  Resigned to the inevitable, I had to accept my mandatory attendance at Seth and Lizzie’s—er, Elizabeth’s—engagement party.

  My gaze lifted to the door again, and I stared at the garment bag. I nodded my head. Yes, indeed, I needed that suit of armor. My hands might be tied when it came to family obligations, but I’d wear a dress that would leave everyone speechless.

  A very nice change of pace at a Carlisle family outing.

  Though I had one more gigantic step to take in order to achieve the impossible.

  Chapter Two

  I took a deep breath, held it for a couple of seconds then slowly let it out. I picked up the phone again and hit a speed dial number.

  Three rings later, a deep, sexy voice came from the other end of the line. “This is Michael.”

  My stomach fluttered. Not necessarily a good thing. Hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt, I asked, “Never just Mike?”

  “Would you prefer just Mike?”

  I smiled. “No, I guess not. Michael suits you.”

  “Then Michael it is.”

  Settling more comfortably into my chair, I asked, “Where are you?” I’d called him on his cell. I needed to confirm he was in San Francisco before I asked him on this treacherous date to the wine country.

  It’s not a date. That sentiment was supposed to calm my suddenly jangled nerves. It didn’t work.

  “I’m in town,” he said. “Just rolled in on my motorcycle.”

  As if I needed one more thing about this man to be so disarming. I pictured him swinging one very long, powerful leg over the back of the bike as he climbed off. In my little fantasy, he wore black leather pants that hugged his high, tight ass and a black T-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders, wide chest and rock-hard biceps. His collar-dusting dark brown hair was tousled from the wind, because who the hell needed a helmet in a fantasy? He raked a hand through it before whipping off his shades to reveal eyes the color of a clear summer sky.

  I bit back a sigh of longing.

  “Still there, babe?”

  His deep voice interrupted my wayward thoughts. This really was dangerous territory to enter.

  “Yes, I’m still here. Just…” I shook my head. Clearly, I was stalling. For God’s sake, ask him already. “Look, I’m calling because I need a favor.”

  “You don’t say?” I didn’t miss the amusement in his voice.

  “It’s a big one.”

  He was quiet for a moment. I heard a soft rustling in the background and imagined him in his living room, settling on the sofa, propping his booted feet up on the coffee table. “Come over and ask me in person.”

  Oh, how he tempted me!

  “Michael.” Leave it to him to make this more complicated than it needed to be.

  “Fiona,” he countered.

  “Fine.” I caved so easily it made me want to kick myself. Way to stand your ground, girlfriend. “I’ll stop by the loft after work. I have a bottle of twenty-five-year-old Glenlivet for you.”

  He whistled under his breath. “That’s a fairly serious bottle of Scotch. Is this favor an illegal one?”

  “Of course not.” I laughed nervously. Though my family’s parties really should be outlawed. They gave new meaning to the terms excessive and over-the-top. And the bickering that went on. I’d find it hilarious to watch if I wasn’t always a prime target for their snide remarks. I would forever be, as my mother regularly pointed out, vastly different from everyone else. The anomaly tended to get the most abuse.

  But to skip a Carlisle event…that’d be sacrilege in her eyes.

  “I’ll tell you what I need when I come over.”

  “I’ll have the glasses ready.”

  “See you around six.” I hung up.

  He was definitely going to push my willpower to its limits. When he wanted me to come to his loft, it was never just for a glass of Scotch.

  He’d been upfront lately about his intentions. He wanted to sleep with me again. A flattering thought, but also a disconcerting one. A girl could only resist temptation for so long. Especially when it was wrapped in a devilishly handsome package and complemented by a steadfast constitution. He was one of the best friends I’d ever had, even after we’d slept together, which made him even more dangerous to my heart.

  But I’d set the wheels in motion, and I knew I couldn’t turn back now. Instead, I dove into my work, trying to take my mind off tonight. I’d barely gotten through a PowerPoint presentation for a charity function when Jane came into my office to deliver some files and the mail. She set two large envelopes under a smaller one already sitting in my inbox. I caught her frown.

  Lifting the champagne-colored packet, she said, “This has been here for over two weeks.”

  “It’s the engagement party invitation.”

  “Oh.” Her expression changed as though she’d just sucked on something tart and distasteful. She held the offensive package with finger and thumb like it
was a smelly diaper, making me laugh.

  Leave it to Jane to brighten a dark moment. She knew all about the sordid situation that involved my sister and me, and one very prominent, thirty-year-old attorney named Seth Corbett III. Also known between us as The Lying, Cheating Bastard.

  Not only had the unexpected threesome been played out on the Society pages of the newspapers and in the tabloids because of the two last names attached to the scandal, but it had also happened just as I’d hung my shingle last year. I’d hired Jane at that time, and she’d been caught in the crossfire of phone calls and office visits from my family and Seth. The conversations had been civil, yet laced with snarky undercurrents. Such was the way of the Carlisle family. Jane proved she was a stand-up gal by sticking with me those first few months.

  She said, “You didn’t bother to RSVP for the party. Way to make a statement.”

  “I really shouldn’t even go. In fact, I’d prefer not to, but you know my mother.”

  Her blond brows lifted. “Indeed, I do. That is one woman I would not want to cross.”

  Unfortunately it was too late for me to employ that cautionary tactic. I’d defied her my entire life, much to her extreme exasperation.

  Still holding the unopened envelope as though it turned the very air we breathed foul, Jane asked, “Want me to toss this?”

  I gave it some thought, then shook my head. Reaching for the packet, I looked carefully at it for the first time since it had arrived, studying the raised black lettering, the elegant script. Call it sadistic, but I grabbed my letter opener, slid the sharp silver tip under the flap of the envelope and extracted the note card nestled inside. My heart stammered and my blood ran cold.

  “Oh, she did not…” I could barely breathe.

  “Something wrong?” Jane asked, though we both knew that when it came to my family and me, there was always something wrong.

  I glanced up at my assistant as the chill set in. “This is my stationery Lizzie is using. These are the invitations I’d picked out for mine and Seth’s wedding.”