Sapphire Read online

  Sapphire

  By Jeffe Kennedy

  A successful executive, M. Taylor Hamilton is on track with her ten-year plan. Too bad her personal life consists of hitting the gym and grocery shopping. Enter the seductive Adam Kirliss. They may have a working relationship, but everything changes at an office party when he handcuffs her to the rail of a yacht.

  Taylor writes off the adventure as too much champagne, but when Adam challenges her to a date, she agrees to meet up with him. And follow his rules. They share a night of exquisite intimacy, brimming with both pain and pleasure. But afterward, fearful of losing her heart, Taylor pulls back emotionally.

  Adam is determined to prove that she longs for the loss of control he can give her—and the passionate release it provides. How can he make her see that he wants her, and not just her body?

  32,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  What do you get when you cross summer with lots of beach time, and long hours of traveling? An executive editor who’s too busy to write the Dear Reader letter, but has time for reading. I find both the beach and the plane are excellent places to read, and thanks to plenty of time spent on both this summer (I went to Australia! And New Zealand!) I’m able to tell you with confidence: our fall lineup of books is outstanding.

  We kick off the fall season with seven romantic suspense titles, during our Romantic Suspense celebration in the first week of September. We’re pleased to offer novella Fatal Destiny by Marie Force as a free download to get you started with the romantic suspense offerings. Also in September, fans of Eleri Stone’s sexy, hot paranormal romance debut novel, Mercy, can look forward to her follow-up story, Redemption, set in the same world of the Lost City Shifters.

  Looking to dive into a new erotic romance? We have a sizzling trilogy for you. In October, look for Christine D’Abo’s Long Shot trilogy featuring three siblings who share ownership of a coffee shop, and each of whom discover steamy passion within the walls of a local sex club. Christine’s trilogy kicks off with Double Shot.

  In addition to a variety of frontlist titles in historical, paranormal, contemporary, steampunk and erotic romance, we’re also pleased to present two authors releasing backlist titles with us. In October, we’ll re-release four science fiction romance titles from the backlist of C.J. Barry, and in November four Western romance titles from the backlist of Susan Edwards.

  Also in November, we’re thrilled to offer our first two chick lit titles from three debut authors, Liar’s Guide to True Love by Wendy Chen and Unscripted by Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz. I hope you’ll check out these fun, sometimes laugh-out-loud novels.

  Whether you’re on the beach, on a plane, or sitting in your favorite recliner at home, Carina Press can offer you a diverting read to take you away on your next great adventure this fall!

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. 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

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

  www.facebook.com/carinapress

  Dedication

  To Mom and Stepdad Dave,

  for being proud and enthusiastic, even about the very naughty books.

  Acknowledgements

  I’m fortunate to have the support of so many people. Many heartfelt thanks:

  To my sister Word Whores, critique partners and occupiers of the Cone of Silence:

  Allison Pang, who was the first to tell me I write “a smoking dom scene” and encouraged me to write more.

  Marcella Burnard, who always asks me the right questions and helps me discover how to end the story.

  KAK, for being my POV Nazi and plot-twist advice-giver.

  Laura Bickle, for reading and loving my naughty stories—and for her unflagging support and virtual hugs.

  Kerry Schafer, for reading and saying she’d give feedback, if only she could make notes under a cold shower.

  Linda Robertson, for always being ready to tell me I kick ass.

  To the enthusiastic Twitter gals, lovers of all things smexy, whose delight in my stories encourages me and keeps me wanting to write more: @sparklybearsy, @jaymzangel, @megancrane, @pattyblount, @smokinhotbooks, @katiebabs, @PennyRomance, and @susanmpls.

  To more of my Twitter crew who talk to me daily and make me feel loved: @abbymumford, @arzai, @BarnestormJohn, @bcmystery, @branli, @CDefThom, @cynthiarreese, @DanicaAvet, @GretchenJones, @harleymaywrites, @janellealexandr, @JillianChantal, @jsmithready, @juliabroadbooks, @LaTessa25, @linda_grimes, @michellemiles, @quickmissive, @readmistyevans, and @victoriadahl.

  To Leanna Renee Hieber, who made me feel welcome when I knew no one and who opened doors for me.

  To Tawna Fenske, for stretching her reading horizons for me and expanding my world of readers.

  To Cynthia Eden, for her unfailing charm, support and good advice.

  To some fabulous gals who’ve read my work and given me advice, referrals and support: Catherine Asaro, Danielle Poiesz, Suzie Townsend, Michelle Wolfson.

  To K. L. Grady and Lisa Kessler of the Fantasy, Futuristic & Paranormal Chapter who set up the pitch opportunity that let this story see light.

  To my truly excellent editor, Deb Nemeth, who picked my pitch out of a vast lineup and gave me a perfect critique. It’s truly been a pleasure working with you. And to Executive Editor Angela James, for making me feel welcome and special.

  And finally, forever and always, David, my friend, lover, life’s companion.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Begin Reading

  About the Author

  Taylor brushed a rebellious wisp of hair out of her eyes for the umpteenth time and sighed. Why her CEO insisted on having the entire staff out on his yacht for these little shindigs, she didn’t know. Better to be behind her glass-and-mahogany desk, working the numbers.

  Numbers had a nice way of adding up.

  “Taylor!”

  Ah, and there was J. C. Worthington himself. Taylor squared her shoulders, plastered on a smile and strolled over to her beckoning boss. She’d feel more confident in her usual suit, but Worthington had decreed cocktail attire for this celebration. Nothing that “smells of the office.” Ha-ha.

  “Taylor.” He smiled in his grandfatherly way that fooled no one. “You look like you’re still at work. This is supposed to be fun!”

  “I’m having fun,” she assured him, tugging the hair out of her eyes. “Your yacht is lovely, as always.”

  “So is the sunset and the view.” Worthington gestured at a tuxedoed server and pressed a flute of champagne into her hand. “And we’re celebrating tonight.”

  “Oh, I don’t really—”

  “Do I have to tell you to relax and enjoy yourself?” Worthington gave her a mock stern look, then laughed. “You worked hard for this contract. Live it up a little—I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

  She smiled, but it felt thin. She gave the orders in her life and she liked it that way. But she also knew how to play the corporate game. She tipped her glass to Worthington and sipped, the champagne sliding cool and sparkling down her throat. He smiled his approval.

  “That’s better. Now where’s Kirliss? Ah, there.” Worthington beckoned to the long-legged man in black lounging by the rail. With his sleek dark hair and the impeccable lines of his suit, probably Armani, he reminded her of a jungle cat. “Adam, I’d like to raise a toast to you and Taylor. You two make an excellent team. To a bright and lucrative future!”

  They obediently raised their glasses and clinked. Adam Kirliss sipped at what lo
oked like whiskey, watching her over the sharp crystal rim with eyes nearly the same color. She’d become accustomed to his steady regard. The man negotiated like a predator, which she understood and appreciated. He’d hit on her once but had taken her cool refusal on the grounds of business well. She respected that too. Not every guy managed to be gracious about it.

  “We’re also celebrating Taylor’s promotion tonight.” Worthington slipped a brass strip out of his jacket pocket and displayed it with a broad smile. The new doorplate gleamed in the late evening light. M. Taylor Hamilton, Vice President of Development. “I’m hoping this might hold you off from taking my job for a few years.”

  “That, and the comfortable raise that goes with it.” Taylor raised her eyebrows. Of course, becoming CEO was on her ten-year plan. At year eight, to be precise.

  “Well done, Taylor.” Kirliss shook her hand in congratulations. He held it just a bit too long, his long fingers strong and strangely hot against her skin. “You know, I’ve been wondering—what does the M stand for?”

  “Mad Dog,” Worthington inserted with crowing laugh.

  Taylor returned the grin easily at the company joke. The guys all found it funny and she figured it only added to the image she wanted to project. Plus, she had no intention of ever revealing that the M stood for Molly. Her mother had named her Molly Taylor, so she could choose either an earth-mother image or go with M. Taylor for a more businesslike name.

  She’d been Molly until third grade. Then she ditched the name, along with pigtails, dirty dresses and the naïve hope that her mother would change. M. Taylor she’d been ever since.

  Worthington wound down from laughing at his own joke and clapped Kirliss on the shoulder, clinking their glasses a final time. “I can’t tell you how delighted we are to be working with Jaguar Enterprises. And now I’ll leave you two to enjoy the party. Remember, Taylor.” He pointed a finger at her. “I want you to have fun.”

  With that, Worthington strode off, hailing another cluster of hungry young men. Taylor was one of the few women on the boat who wasn’t serving canapés. But then, she was used to it. She could hold her own with any of them and they all knew it.

  “No, really.” Kirliss raised one elegant black eyebrow and studied her with golden-brown eyes. “What does the M stand for?”

  Taylor shifted, her silk dress feeling too thin as it blew against her body. She smiled serenely at Kirliss. “It’s just an initial. It doesn’t stand for anything at all.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  The hairs prickled on the back of her neck. Something had shifted. The carefully formal negotiator from the meetings of the last few months had disappeared. Tonight, Kirliss felt…sharper.

  Taylor shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. Never show fear. “I’m afraid you’ll have to. Lots of people have names that are only initials.”

  Kirliss sipped at the whiskey and held the liquid in his mouth for a moment, then swallowed, clearly savoring the moment, tanned Adam’s apple moving in his clean-shaven throat. Taylor tore her eyes away and focused on the blaze of sunset.

  “Some do, yes,” Kirliss agreed easily in his purring voice, “but not you, I think. This is something you keep secret.”

  “Okay, then.” Taylor heard the edge in her voice, tempered it to be exactly the one she wanted. “If that were true, it would be my secret and not something I’d discuss casually with a colleague. And this conversation just became more personal than I’m comfortable with, Mr. Kirliss.”

  Kirliss smiled at her, a lethal flash of white teeth. “Shall we stroll, then? I’m told the top deck has an excellent view of the sunset. A good way to appear to be having fun.”

  He signaled a passing server, a cute blonde thing who simpered at him, though he appeared not to notice. Taylor looked away and rolled her eyes. Even if she had time to date, it wouldn’t be Kirliss. She believed everyone should know their own limitations. This man reminded her of some of those dark and unsettling fantasies she tucked deep away. There were plenty of far more manageable men out there.

  She realized she’d drained the champagne flute when Kirliss pressed another into her hand. That was the problem with really excellent champagne—it went down way too easily.

  Taylor took a judicious sip and strolled along beside Kirliss. He kept his pace considerately slow, so her heels weren’t a problem. She wished she hadn’t thought about those dark fantasies. Now her skin prickled. Keenly aware of him, she knew he would be the kind of lover to take control. A titillating thought. And also forbidden territory. Focus, Taylor. She opened her mouth to make a comment about the projections she’d run just before the party.

  “I think I could make you tell me,” Kirliss said in a quiet, penetrating tone.

  Taylor caught her breath, irritation surging along with an insane thrill. “Look, Mr. Kirliss—”

  “Adam.”

  “Mr. Kirliss,” Taylor said around clenched teeth, “this conversation is bordering on inappropriate. I’m asking you to stop now.”

  “All these months, you’ve persisted in calling me Mr. Kirliss. The deal’s done—call me Adam.”

  “We have a continuing business relationship. Not a personal one.”

  “It’s a party.” He shrugged, elegant and smooth.

  “It’s business, no matter how it’s dressed up. I save my relaxing and enjoying for my own time.”

  “Aha—so you have a secret life as well as a secret name.”

  Oh yes, a secret life of working out at the gym and shopping for groceries. Not that she’d admit it to someone like Kirliss. Maybe after she was CEO, there’d be room for frivolity. Once she was sure she’d never slide into the muck her mother had dragged them through.

  “That’s right!” She gave him an arch smile. Let him think whatever he liked. “And now I think I’ll go keep some of my secrets.”

  Taylor turned to go, but Kirliss grabbed her hand, strong fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist. She wheeled back, shocked, to find him staring at her with fierce intensity. Her heart gave a great thump, a pulse of wild delight shooting through her.

  “Don’t go.”

  Taylor tugged and he tightened his grip. The weak and dark side that she never dared acknowledge thrilled to it, a rush of heat warming her. She crushed it with ice. She was not allowed to want this.

  “Let go of me.”

  “Only if you promise not to leave.”

  Taylor fought herself. They were in a shadowed corner of the top deck, the disappearing sun leaving deepening shadows. Not far away, just a couple of decks down, the party blared under strings of lights, men laughing and talking shop.

  “I told you to let go of me.”

  “I think you like me keeping you from leaving. Your pulse is racing.”

  “Because you’ve frightened me.” She didn’t say that her own response scared her more than anything else. She didn’t need to. He seemed to see it in her anyway.

  “I don’t think so. Let’s conduct an experiment,” Kirliss suggested, his voice seeming to stroke her skin. He set his glass down on a nearby table, then took her champagne flute and set it next to his drink. He captured her other wrist and held them close in front of her, his warm fingers massaging her skin, while he studied her face. The boat surged over a wave, disturbing her balance. Kirliss’s unusual eyes caught the light, boring into her.

  “This is silly,” she tried.

  “Do you want me to make you stay?”

  “What?” Taylor choked. She couldn’t let him treat her this way. “No! You’ll do no such—”

  She lost her breath entirely when he pressed up against her. Thinking he was trying to embrace her, she pulled away and found herself backed against the brass railing. By the time she gathered her flustered thoughts, her wrists were handcuffed to the rail behind her. Mortified, a bit afraid and—worse—suddenly and wildly aroused, Taylor yanked and struggled.

  Kirliss stepped back, retrieved his whiskey glass and stood watching her. He looked unbea
rably pleased.

  “Let me go! This is assault!”

  “I haven’t hurt you.”

  “I’ll scream.”

  “Okay.” Kirliss waited.

  Taylor cast a longing look at the vibrant party under the lights. She could scream and they would all come running. She could press charges against Kirliss for harassment, assault, maybe more. She could win this.

  “No scream?” he inquired, all politeness, the challenge glinting in his eyes.

  She clenched her teeth and tugged again, the metal biting into her skin. She hated that part of her thrilled to the feeling. Like some of those dreams. They always ended too soon. Instead of finding out what happened, she’d always wake, hot and frustrated, feeling like an indoor cat forever staring out the window at the birds.

  Kirliss smiled, a smooth curve of sensuous lips, clearly knowing she wouldn’t scream. He had her there.

  Arrogant son of a bitch. “What kind of man carries handcuffs around with him?”

  “One with a plan. I’d like to propose a renegotiation of our relationship. You know I believe in beginning with a strong mission statement.”

  Taylor sighed and stopped struggling. “You realize this is extremely creepy, right? I told you I’m not interested. Now you think, what, a hostile takeover method will work? I could ruin you for pulling this stunt.”

  “You probably could. I admire that about you, Taylor. You have this single-minded ferocity about you. I’m just getting your attention because I think I have something you want. This is a sample.”

  “Let me counter offer—assault, sexual harassment, possibly kidnapping…”

  “So many charges you could hurl at me.” Kirliss moved in closer. Taylor pressed herself against the rail, her heart pounding. “But I don’t think you will.”

  “Hell if I wouldn’t.” The thrill of the back and forth stirred her. Like negotiating in the board room, but the stakes…oh, these stakes went beyond the pale.