by J. Kenner
“Well, duh.”
He laughed outright. “Hey, Jessie. Thanks. I needed this.”
“Anytime,” she said. “And just so you know, I’m going to be stalking you and Beverly online. I’ll know if you chicken out.”
“Not a problem.” He knew what he wanted, and Jessie had just kicked his ass hard enough to make him go after it. “I think I’m about to make you proud.”
Beverly’s head snapped up as Jenna called her name. “What?”
“I said we’re about to start. You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Griff and I—doesn’t matter.” She was a professional. She had a job to do. She could pine over her lost love after she did her emcee routine.
A small smile tugged at Jenna’s mouth. It looked like amusement, but Beverly was certain it must be sympathy.
“All the guys are in the back and the reality show cameras are running. The contestant cards are on the podium, and I’m going to cue your music, okay? You’re good?”
Bev nodded, pulling herself together. Of course she could do this.
She climbed the stairs to the stage, looked out at the crowd, and allowed herself one second to mourn the fact that Griffin wasn’t out there watching her. Then she slid into her professional persona, ran through her usual spiel welcoming everyone to the contest, and glanced at the first card in the stack that Jenna had left for her. One card for each contestant, it had general information about the men so that she could properly introduce them to the waiting crowd.
After having done this so often, she could do it in her sleep. But she never did. The truth was, she enjoyed the gig. Liked having the audience. And believed in the original reason for the contest—to raise money to keep The Fix going. Now, the contest had become almost an iconic event, and she was proud to be part of it.
Tonight, though, her mind kept wandering, and twice she stumbled over a contestant’s name.
She was relieved when she was down to the final two cards, and she watched as the penultimate contestant climbed the stairs, tugged off his shirt, and flexed some pretty impressive muscles. There wasn’t a requirement they strip, but of course most of them at least took off their shirt. They wanted to be in the calendar, after all. And good abs got votes.
Unlike four of his predecessors, this candidate didn’t make a speech—apparently he thought his impressive build spoke for itself. And so Beverly led the applause as he exited the stage.
She took the final card from the podium, read the name, and almost dropped the paper.
“Sorry,” she said, then took a sip of water before plastering on her show-ready smile. “Tonight’s final contestant is Griffin Draper.”
She heard the low rumble of surprise—many in the audience were regulars, who knew enough to know what Griffin kept hidden beneath his clothes and hood.
She glanced down at the card, then felt tears prick her eyes as she read the information, while Griffin walked the red carpet. “In his early thirties, Mr. Draper is the writer and creator of a popular podcast and web series, as well as the screenwriter for Hidden Justice, soon to be a major motion picture staring—well, it says Beverly Martin, but that’s your truly.”
She brushed away a tear as Griffin climbed the stairs. He wore a T-shirt. A plain white Hanes T-shirt, and she had to blink to see the words swimming in front of her.
“Mr. Draper recently made the wrong relationship decision because he was too scared to—dammit, Griff, how am I supposed to read this?”
The crowd fell absolutely silent as he moved to her side and took the microphone from her. “He was too scared to show himself to the world, even for the woman he loves. But he’s not any more.” He handed her the microphone, then slowly peeled off his shirt, revealing all of this scars except the ones on his hip and thigh.
Only the sound of breathing could be heard in the room. Not even the rustle of clothes.
“Sorry folks,” Griffin said, breaking the spell. “Shirt only. Buy the calendar if you want more.”
Nervous laughter exploded into the still air, then changed into the laughter of genuine amusement. He smiled, then moved to Beverly’s side and took the microphone again, holding it low enough that he wasn’t talking directly into it, but close enough that it still projected his voice. “I love you,” he said. “And I’m coming with you.”
It wasn’t a question, and she nodded happily as applause and cheers nearly blew the roof off the place.
Fifteen minutes later, they were still surrounded by well-wishers and folks trying to get close enough for a picture. Griffin had his shirt back on, but not his hoodie, and Beverly was so damn proud of him.
“You doing okay?” she whispered.
“It’s freaky, but it’s okay. I think I’ll get used to it. Eventually.”
Jenna bounded up the stairs grinning broadly. “Congratulations,” she said. “The vote confirmed what we all knew. You’re Mr. November.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Beverly said, holding tight to his hand.
“Yeah, well, don’t be too proud. I’m still going to tell Eva I want her to edit out the scars on my calendar photo,” he said, referring to the Man of the Month beefcake calendar in which he would now be featured as Mr. November. “I’m not quite that ready to reveal everything.”
“I can live with that,” she said, laughing as she pulled him close. “So long as I have you.”
“You do,” he said. And as the crowd around them went wild once more, he drew her close and kissed her hard, just to seal the deal.
Epilogue
“I think she’s finally asleep,” Elena said, coming into Brent’s oven-warmed kitchen and taking the glass of wine he offered her.
He’d never seen her look frazzled before. Now her short hair was mussed and her makeup smudged. He’d thought she was beautiful before, but now she looked approachable, too. And he wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
“I’m really sorry she wasn’t asleep when you got home,” she added. “She wanted to watch another cartoon, and we picked The Incredibles, and I think it just got her all worked up. I had no idea she’d get out of bed to start building a fort for her stuffed animals while I was making the cupcakes.”
“No worries,” he said with a small chuckle. He wasn’t surprised; he knew his five-year-old, Faith, well. “I’m prepared for massive crankiness tomorrow.”
He saw her horrified look and wished he’d stayed silent. He didn’t like seeing Elena Anderson upset. And every time he’d seen her that way, he’d had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss the worry right off her face.
And that definitely wasn’t the direction his mind needed to be going. Not with her. Not with his boss and friend’s daughter. And definitely not with his babysitter.
“Seriously,” he said to reassure her, “it’s no big deal. Kids stay up late. They sneak out of bed. It happens. And I really appreciate you helping me out. I know childcare wasn’t what you had in mind when you started graduate school.”
“I’m happy to help. Truly. She’s a great kid, and since your schedule is flexible it’s easy to be here when you need me. Most of the time I’m working on my own. You know how grad school is.”
“I don’t actually. Cop. Security specialist. Now bar owner and partner to your father,” he added, because he really needed to say that out loud. A reminder to them both. Because even though he’d been telling himself for months that it was his imagination, he knew damn well that Elena was attracted to him, too.
Hell, lightning had positively crackled between them the first time they’d met. And more than once he’d caught her looking at him, the desire so palpable that he’d had to turn away and imagine cold showers and other non-sensual things.
He was a wreck, and he was quickly losing confidence in his excuse that because it had been so long since he’d had a woman in his bed, that he was starved for any woman.
She flashed a sweet, almost shy smile, and his stomach flip-flopped.
No. It was Elena. Def
initely Elena.
“This is nice,” she said. “Chatting, I mean. Usually I’m rushing off the second you get home.”
“Well, I can’t let you risk ruining the cupcakes.”
“That’s something else I’m sorry for. I should have called to clear it with you. So I hope you don’t mind. Apparently she needs them for school.”
“I don’t mind at all. I just…”
“Yes?”
How could he say that the room seemed too small, but he knew damn well that it wasn’t because of the heat from the oven?
“Nothing,” he said instead. “Forgot what I was going to say.”
She cocked her head, a question in her eyes, and for a second he thought she might be about to call him out on his lie. He almost hoped she would.
Bing!
“Done,” she said, her voice a little too bright, as if that would combat the tension in the room.
She bent to take them out, and Brent forced himself not to study the perfect curve of her ass in her Lucky jeans.
Lucky. Wasn’t that ironic?
She put the cupcake pan on a trivet, then took off the oven mitts. “Well. There. I guess I should get going.”
“Don’t they need to cool?”
She nodded. “I figure you’ve done this before, right? Faith can frost them in the morning. And you just need to put them in some Tupperware.”
“Right. I could do that. Or you could stay and make sure I don’t put them away too soon.”
She swallowed. “Well, yeah. If that would help you out.”
He took one step toward her, and in the small kitchen that put them only inches apart. “Or you could forget about the cupcakes and just stay.”
“I—Brent.” She licked her lips, and his whole body tightened with desire. “What are you doing?”
“Honestly? I’m thinking about kissing you.”
“Oh.” He saw both surprise and pleasure in her eyes. “What about it?”
“How much I want to. How much I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” The question was breathy, almost a whisper.
“For one, you’re younger than me. You’re my boss’s daughter. My friend’s daughter. Not to mention that I’m a single dad who needs to be careful about the signals I send to my kid. Plus, you’re the babysitter.”
“Those are all bad?”
He sighed. “I thought so. I’m starting to lose perspective.”
“I can help with that.”
“Can you?”
“Yeah.” She took a step toward him, then rose up on her tiptoes. Gently, she brushed a kiss over his lips.
Then she backed away, biting her lower lip as she looked at him, as if challenging him to do more.
Dammit, he took the challenge. Maybe he’d go straight to hell, but he had to have this woman. And without any more hesitation, he pulled her close, then claimed her mouth in a kiss the seared through him, long and hot and deep.
A note from JK:
I hope you enjoyed Light My Fire!
If you’d like to read more about Griffin and his sister Kelsey, be sure to grab a copy of Wicked Grind!
Be sure to grab Brent and Elena’s story, Walk The Line, book 12 in the Man of the Month series!
If you want your very own Man of the Month calendar, you can grab it now! (While supplies last!)
Guess what? I have even more exciting things coming in 2018, including more Nikki & Damien Stark! Keep reading for details!
Subscribe to my newsletter or text JKenner to 21000 so you’ll be among the first to know when fab things happen!
Check out all of my books at www.jkenner.com and be sure to join my Facebook fan group!
Walk the Line
Be sure not to miss Brent and Elena in Walk The Line!
Elena is too young for me, not to mention she’s my boss’s daughter and my babysitter.
That’s beyond complicated. And I’m not even looking for a relationship—but I can’t deny the attraction that sizzles between us.
I need to ignore it. A single dad, all I want is to take care of my little girl, do my job, and enjoy my friends. Anything more is asking for complications I can’t afford. Asking to be hurt again.
Trouble is, I want her, too. And when our flirty sparks turn to flames, I give in to temptation. Our secret fling is scorching hot, better than I’d even imagined.
But secrets get out, and I could lose my job and my reputation.
And I’m starting to realize she’s the one thing I’m not willing to lose.
Grab your copy now: Walk The Line!
Who’s Your Man of the Month?
When a group of fiercely determined friends realize their beloved hang-out is in danger of closing, they take matters into their own hands to bring back customers lost to a competing bar. Fighting fire with a heat of their own, they double down with the broad shoulders, six-pack abs, and bare chests of dozens of hot, local guys who they cajole, prod, and coerce into auditioning for a Man of the Month calendar.
But it’s not just the fate of the bar that’s at stake. Because as things heat up, each of the men meets his match in this sexy, flirty, and compelling binge-read romance series of twelve novels releasing every other week from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner.
"With each novel featuring a favorite romance trope—beauty and the beast, billionaire bad boys, friends to lovers, second chance romance, secret baby, and more—[the Man of the Month] series hits the heart and soul of romance." New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips
Down On Me
Hold On Tight
Need You Now
Start Me Up
Get It On
In Your Eyes
Turn Me On
Shake It Up
All Night Long
In Too Deep
Light My Fire
Walk The Line
and don’t miss Bar Bites: A Man of the Month Cookbook!
Want your own Man of the Month calendar? Grab it now! (While supplies last!)
The Men of Man of the Month!
Are you eager to learn which Man of the Month book features which sexy hero?
Here’s a handy list!
Down On Me - meet Reece
Hold On Tight - meet Spencer
Need You Now - meet Cameron
Start Me Up - meet Nolan
Get It On - meet Tyree
In Your Eyes - meet Parker
Turn Me On - meet Derek
Shake It Up - meet Landon
All Night Long - meet Easton
In Too Deep - meet Matthew
Light My Fire - meet Griffin
Walk The Line - meet Brent
and don’t miss Bar Bites: A Man of the Month Cookbook that includes a short story featuring Eric, slices of life, and bonus scenes for all the men!
Want your own Man of the Month calendar? Grab it now! (While supplies last!)
Meet Damien Stark
Only his passion could set her free…
The Original Trilogy
Release Me
Claim Me
Complete Me
And Beyond…
Anchor Me
Lost With Me
Meet Damien Stark in the award-winning and internationally bestselling series that started it all…
The Stark Saga by J. Kenner
Download Now
Meet Damien Stark in Release Me, book 1 of the wildly sensual series that’s left millions of readers breathless …
Chapter One
A cool ocean breeze caresses my bare shoulders, and I shiver, wishing I’d taken my roommate’s advice and brought a shawl with me tonight. I arrived in Los Angeles only four days ago, and I haven’t yet adjusted to the concept of summer temperatures changing with the setting of the sun. In Dallas, June is hot, July is hotter, and August is hell.
Not so in California, at least not by the beach. LA Lesson Number One: Always carry a sweater if you’ll be out after dark.
Of course, I c
ould leave the balcony and go back inside to the party. Mingle with the millionaires. Chat up the celebrities. Gaze dutifully at the paintings. It is a gala art opening, after all, and my boss brought me here to meet and greet and charm and chat. Not to lust over the panorama that is coming alive in front of me. Bloodred clouds bursting against the pale orange sky. Blue-gray waves shimmering with dappled gold.
I press my hands against the balcony rail and lean forward, drawn to the intense, unreachable beauty of the setting sun. I regret that I didn’t bring the battered Nikon I’ve had since high school. Not that it would have fit in my itty-bitty beaded purse. And a bulky camera bag paired with a little black dress is a big, fat fashion no-no.
But this is my very first Pacific Ocean sunset, and I’m determined to document the moment. I pull out my iPhone and snap a picture.
“Almost makes the paintings inside seem redundant, doesn’t it?” I recognize the throaty, feminine voice and turn to face Evelyn Dodge, retired actress turned agent turned patron of the arts—and my hostess for the evening.
“I’m so sorry. I know I must look like a giddy tourist, but we don’t have sunsets like this in Dallas.”
“Don’t apologize,” she says. “I pay for that view every month when I write the mortgage check. It damn well better be spectacular.”
I laugh, immediately more at ease.
“Hiding out?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re Carl’s new assistant, right?” she asks, referring to my boss of three days.