by Pamela Yaye
They’re living their most passionate dream...
But will her scandalous secret cost her his love?
Beauty blogger and owner of the Hamptons’ hottest salon, Karma Sullivan has been swept off her feet by judge Morrison Drake. But she knows their passion-filled nights must end. She can’t let her family secret derail Morrison’s ambitious career plan. Even if it means giving up the man she loves...
“I like it better when you call me Morrison.”
“What else do you like?”
Bracing his hands against the door, fencing her in, Morrison gazed intently at her, his deep brown eyes smoldering with desire. Inwardly chastising herself for her salacious quip, Karma sucked in a breath. Why did I say that? Why am I flirting with a man who is totally out of my league? Her loose lips had gotten her into trouble, and the longer he stared at her the harder her limbs shook. Her head was spinning, but she projected confidence, not fear, and said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Morrison. Good night.”
“It’s midnight,” he announced, lowering his mouth to her face. “Happy birthday, beautiful. I hope this year brings prosperity, excitement and adventure. They don’t call it the dirty thirties for nothing, so throw caution to the wind and own every moment.”
Shivering as his lips moved gently against hers, she willed her legs not to buckle. Deep down, she craved his touch, his kiss, but she wasn’t brave enough to make the first move.
“Life is not remembered in days, Karma. It is remembered in moments, and this moment will remain with me forever.”
Dear Reader,
Karma Sullivan and Morrison Drake are opposites in every sense of the word. The only thing they have in common is their mutual dislike! That’s what makes Pleasure in His Kiss such a delicious read. After a passionate first kiss, Morrison can’t get the sultry salon owner out of his mind. The no-nonsense judge sets his sights on Karma, and she isn’t strong enough to resist his seductive charms. I hope you have fun “watching” Karma and Morrison flirt at a ritzy New York City wedding, enjoy their romantic marathon date at beautiful Coopers Beach and root for them despite the obstacles in their way.
Kimani readers, I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement over the years. I’d love to hear what you think of Karma and Morrison’s sizzling love story, so connect with me at [email protected], or on my social media pages.
All the best in life and love,
Pamela Yaye
Pleasure in His Kiss
Pamela Yaye
Pamela Yaye has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education. Her love for African American fiction prompted her to pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not working on her latest novel, this busy wife, mother and teacher is watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Alberta, Canada, with her gorgeous husband and adorable, but mischievous, son and daughter.
Books by Pamela Yaye
Harlequin Kimani Romance
Evidence of Desire
Passion by the Book
Designed by Desire
Seduced by the Playboy
Seduced by the CEO
Seduced by the Heir
Seduced by Mr. Right
Heat of Passion
Seduced by the Hero
Seduced by the Mogul
Mocha Pleasures
Seduced by the Bachelor
Secret Miami Nights
Seduced by the Tycoon at Christmas
Pleasure in His Kiss
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Excerpt from Tempting the Beauty Queen by Carolyn Hector
Chapter 1
Karma Sullivan didn’t know who was shouting inside her swank, full-service beauty salon, Beauty by Karma, but she was going to find out. Balancing the books would have to wait. Her customers were probably having a spirited discussion about sex and relationships, but things had obviously gotten out of hand. It sounded as if World War Three had broken out on the main floor, and since nothing mattered more to Karma than maintaining the elegance and dignity of her salon, she dropped her pen on the April spreadsheets, and shot to her feet.
Her gaze fell on the mahogany desk across the room, and her shoulders sagged. Karma could only wonder where Jazz was. She’d met Jazmine “Jazz” Figueroa at cosmetology school six years earlier, and they’d bonded over their love of fashion, pop culture, Idris Elba movies and exotic cuisine. Hiring the gregarious esthetician to be the manager of her beauty salon was a no-brainer. Karma enjoyed working alongside her bestie, and thought they made a formidable team. Unfortunately, her happiness had been short-lived. Jazz used to be a model employee, who gave a hundred percent to Beauty by Karma, but these days she came to work late, spent more time on her cell than with clients and left early. And when Karma spoke to Jazz yesterday about her concerns she’d mumbled an apology, then quickly changed the subject.
A deep, husky voice filled the air, yanking Karma out of her thoughts and back to the present. What in the world? Has everyone lost their minds? Beauty by Karma was a ritzy, high-end salon in the Hamptons, not a barbershop in the hood, and she wasn’t going to let anyone ruin the peaceful ambience. Since the salon’s grand opening, Karma had worked tirelessly to get her business off the ground, and her efforts had paid off. She had A-list clients, a successful beauty blog millennials couldn’t get enough of and tens of thousands of social media followers.
Yanking open her office door, she marched down the hallway, her lush, purple-hued tresses cascading around her shoulders. She’d paired her short, off-the-shoulder sundress with gold accessories, and even though she’d gained weight while vacationing with her girlfriends in the Cayman Islands in January she felt beautiful in the flowy, Gucci dress. Still, she was starting The Raw Food after her birthday. Yesterday, she’d received an email from the Hamptons Women’s Association informing her she’d been nominated for the Businesswoman of the Year award, and Karma had been so excited she’d danced around her office. Wanting to look fit and fabulous for the July banquet, she’d hired a personal trainer, and was going to eat healthy for the next three months even if it killed her. And it would. Karma loved junk food, drank wine every night with dinner and was a self-proclaimed chocoholic. The last time she’d exercised Obama was still in office, and when her trainer suggested Karma take an aerobics class five days a week she’d burst out laughing. It was going to be hard going to the gym and changing her poor eating habits, but Karma was determined to get in shape.
Classical music was playing in the background, but it did nothing to soothe her mind. Karma loved hip-hop music, could rap with the skill and finesse of Yeezy, but since her customers preferred Bach to Kanye West, that was what they listened to during business hours.
Entering the salon, a smile curled her lips. The grand opening was eighteen months ago, but
every time she entered the shop she felt a rush of pride. Beauty by Karma was her “baby,” the only thing that mattered to her. Decorated with comfort and luxury in mind, the space had chandeliers dripping with crystals, cushy designer chairs and exquisite African artwork. Glass vases filled with colored roses beautified the twenty-five-chair salon, and black-and-white photographs of her celebrity clients were hanging on the mauve walls.
There was a buzz in the air, and when Karma saw the chocolate hottie standing at the reception desk, she understood why every woman in the salon—including the cosmetic heiress, a trophy wife and a marketing executive—were licking their lips and fanning their faces.
Someone whistled, and Karma overheard a Broadway actress murmur in Spanish, “¡Señor, si tuviera un hombre que se pareciera a eso en casa, nunca dejaría la casa!” A giggle tickled her throat. I agree, she thought, hiding a smirk behind the stoic expression on her face. You’re right! If he was my man I wouldn’t leave the house, either!
Her legs wobbled, as if they were about to give way, but she didn’t lose her footing on the gleaming, hardwood floor. Caught off guard by her physical attraction to the man with the chiseled face and muscled body, she couldn’t think or speak. Was at a loss for words. Shocking, considering Jazz had affectionately nicknamed her Yabbermouth the day they met, but when he glanced in her direction Karma’s tongue fell limp in her mouth. Having worked on magazine photo shoots and music videos, she was used to meeting attractive men, but the longer she stared at him the harder it was to control her X-rated thoughts. Suddenly, perspiration drenched her forehead and breathing was a challenge.
Karma checked him out on the sly. The man had it all. Flawless, cocoa-brown complexion? Yes. Perfect teeth and a defined jawline? Yes. Boyish good looks, and more muscles than Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson? Yes, yes, yes! There weren’t enough words in the English language to describe how gorgeous he was, and for a moment Karma was starstruck, consumed with desire. He was wearing a striped polo shirt, knee-length shorts and white sneakers, but he carried himself like a man in a designer suit, and Karma was so anxious to meet him she moved through the salon faster than an Olympian speed walker.
“You have to do something,” the stranger fumed, addressing the receptionist. “This is important. Very important. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
His cologne, like his voice, was captivating, and listening to him made Karma tingle from her ears to her toes. Swallowing hard, she mentally chastised herself. Told herself to get a grip, and quit lusting after the man with the piercing gaze and ripped physique.
Joining the receptionist, Abigail Reese, behind the front desk, Karma offered her right hand in greeting, even though she knew touching him would push her horny body over the edge. Driven to succeed, she’d put her career above her personal life, and although her girlfriends teased her about being celibate, Karma loved being single and had zero desire to settle down. Why would she? Relationships sucked, and her ex-boyfriend had proved that even humble, sensitive men with good reputations couldn’t be trusted.
Her gaze returned to the stranger’s face, and zeroed in on his thick lips. Oh my. I bet they could do some serious damage. Tingles flooded her body, pricking her skin. Karma couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex, but if Mr. Tall-Buff-and-Dreamy invited her to his place she’d say yes in a heartbeat. It was an outrageous thought, considering she didn’t even know his first name, but her body had a mind of its own, and it wanted his hands in her hair, on her breasts and between her legs—
“Who are you?”
Startled by his curt tone, Karma broke free of her thoughts and met his gaze.
“Hello,” she said brightly, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m Karma Sullivan, the owner of this fine establishment. How may I help you?”
“You’re the owner? Finally. It’s about time you showed up.”
Ice spread through Karma’s veins, chilling her to the bone. Put off by his cold demeanor, she dropped her hands to her sides, and pinned her shoulders back, radiated confidence even though his rigid stance was intimidating. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I’m Morrison Drake, Reagan’s uncle...”
He reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet, then raised his driver’s license in the air. Scanning it, Karma committed the details to memory. According to the information on the card, he was six feet six inches, two hundred and twenty-five pounds, with dark brown hair and eyes. Morrison was thirty-four years old, and he was born on...August 2...
Overcome with emotion, sadness stabbed her heart. Morrison shares the same birthday as my mom. Needing a moment to gather herself, she took a deep, calming breath. Thinking about Carmelita’s tragic death six years earlier always made her cry and since she didn’t want to break down at the salon, she willed herself to keep it together.
A troubling thought ran through her mind. Was Reagan okay? Was she in trouble? Needing more help at, Beauty by Karma, she’d hired the high school senior as a salon associate weeks earlier, and already had a soft spot for the teen. Karma straightened her bent shoulders and tried her best to recall everything Reagan had ever said about her uncle, Judge Morrison Drake.
Uncle Morrison is serious, stubborn and strict, she’d complained, one evening last week when they were cleaning the salon after closing. He rarely laughs or smiles, but I hope he finds a girlfriend soon, because I’m sick of him running my life. I’ll be eighteen in July, Ms. Karma. I should be able to do what I want, and go as I please...
Bits and pieces of other conversations they had filled her mind and, as Morrison glared at her, Karma suspected everything Reagan had told her about him was true. She had her work cut out for her, knew it was going to be hard to turn his scowl into a smile, but Karma was up for the challenge. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Drake. Welcome to Beauty by Karma.”
He nodded, but didn’t speak. Stared at her as if he was bored out of his mind.
“Reagan tricked me,” Karma said, hoping to lighten the mood with a joke. “You’re tall, dark and handsome. There’s no way you’re a tyrant!”
Morrison didn’t laugh. Instead, his frown deepened, and his lips formed a hard line.
“Is Reagan here? Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?” he asked, his gaze darting around the salon. “Your employees won’t tell me anything and it’s infuriating.”
Karma shook her head. “No, she’s not here. Why? What’s going on?”
“Reagan didn’t come home last night, and I’m worried about her.”
“Are you sure? Maybe she got home late, and left before you woke up.”
“I checked the alarm history. I set it before bed, and it was never deactivated.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Of course, I’ve tried calling her,” he snapped, his frustration evident by his sharp tone. “But every time I call, her cell goes straight to voice mail. Worse, she hasn’t responded to any of my text messages, and none of her friends know where she is, either.”
His voice cracked, faltered under the weight of his emotions, and his demeanor softened. As Karma watched Morrison pace the length of the waiting area, his head bent, his hands balled into fists, two things became abundantly clear: he was angry, and he was scared. Filled with sympathy, Karma wanted to help. All of her employees knew and loved Reagan, and she did too. Treated her like the kid sister she’d always wanted, but didn’t have—
“How long has my niece been working here?”
Caught off guard by the question, seconds passed before Karma spoke. “A month.”
“A month?” he repeated, stopping abruptly. “Are you kidding me?”
His gaze was full of confusion, but Karma didn’t know why. Couldn’t understand why he was shouting at her. Wondered why he was staring at her in disgust.
Morrison gestured to the reception desk with a flick of his head. “My niec
e came in here, filled out an application, and you didn’t think it was important to contact me before offering her a job?”
“No, Reagan’s almost eighteen, and her CV was impressive—”
Before she could finish her thought, Morrison cut her off midsentence.
“You should have called me. If I didn’t go into Reagan’s room this morning, and snoop through her things, I wouldn’t even know she worked here. Thank God I found a pay stub in her desk, or I’d still be in the dark about her having a part-time job.”
Karma winced, couldn’t believe Morrison had invaded his niece’s privacy, and had the nerve to look proud of himself, as if he’d made a three-point basket from half-court with his eyes closed. Feeling the need to defend herself, she said, “I rarely hire high school students to work in my salon, because they’re often unreliable, but I’m glad I took a chance on Reagan. She’s a wonderful young lady, and a model employee.”
Morrison snorted, then argued that a beauty salon was no place for a teenager.
Karma pursed her lips together and swallowed the fiery retort on the tip of her tongue. She treated everyone who entered her salon—from the delivery person to the relentless salesperson—with respect, and whenever her staff complained about clients, Karma would quote her mother’s favorite saying. Kindness is never wasted, she’d quip in a singsong voice, but Morrison was working her last nerve and Karma wanted him gone. Wished she could grab him by the ear and heave him out of her salon. Karma liked four-letter words and used them often, especially when she was driving on the freeway, but everyone in the salon was listening in on their conversation and if she cursed Morrison out her staff would never let her live it down.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better employee and I’m thrilled Reagan’s part of the Beauty by Karma family,” she continued, speaking from the heart. “She’s a smart young woman with a great head on her shoulders and a very bright future in the cosmetology field.”
“Cosmetology?” Morrison scrunched up his nose as if someone had tossed a stink bomb through the window. “Reagan’s going to university in the fall, not beauty school.”