Ruby Read online

  Ruby

  By Jeffe Kennedy

  Book three of Facets of Passion

  Danielle Sosna has no problem denying herself in order to achieve her goals—after all, that attitude landed her a dream job at Vogue Paris. But in New Orleans for one last assignment before heading overseas, she’s faced with the most decadent of temptations. Seductive Cajun chef Bobby Prejean takes Dani’s strength of will as a challenge, and offers her a night of wild indulgence—if she will agree to obey his every command...

  Dani can’t resist Prejean’s invitation to join him in a world of carnal desire, complete with fetish costumes and masks. Determined to keep her emotional distance, she gives Prejean everything but her name. A night becomes a week, as she spends Mardi Gras suspended...in the delicious space where pleasure meets pain.

  Too late, she realizes the cloak of anonymity has not protected her—and that chasing her dream might come at the expense of her heart.

  For more Facets of Passion, check out Sapphire and Platinum, available now!

  41,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  The month of May always brings, for me, the promise of new beginnings. I realize that it’s actually nearly the end of spring, but for some reason, I love the idea of May and that it means summer is coming and the fun is really about to begin!

  This month, very fitting for my excitement about new beginnings, we have three debut authors with stories releasing. Brighton Walsh joins Carina Press with her charming contemporary romance Plus One, where lifelong friends find deep-seated feelings growing into something more than friendship. Meanwhile, debut author Shawna Reppert has crafted a unique and captivating fantasy romance world in her male/male romance The Stolen Luck. Joining these two authors with a debut is S.G. Wong with the first Lola Starke novel, Die on Your Feet. Not only is this an unusual mix of mystery, paranormal and noir, but this book also has a striking cover that captured my imagination from the first look.

  Although not a debut author, Tamara Morgan joins Carina Press with the first in a new contemporary romance series. In The Rebound Girl, an outgoing plastic surgeon gets more than she bargained for when she offers to be the rebound girl for a sexy kindergarten teacher getting over his recent breakup.

  Along with new beginnings also come bittersweet goodbyes, and this month we wrap up Jax Garren’s fantastic science-fiction trilogy Tales of the Underlight. This series has kept us all on the edges of our seats with both the sexual tension between Hauk and Jolie and the fight to take out the Order of Ananke. Don’t miss the final installment, How Beauty Loved the Beast.

  Following up on her award-winning erotic novella, The Theory of Attraction, Delphine Dryden brings back sexy geeks and sizzling sexual tension in The Seduction Hypothesis.

  As well, we have exciting offerings from a variety of other veteran Carina Press authors this month. Jeffe Kennedy’s Ruby takes us to a contemporary world of BDSM and a sexy Cajun chef during the sensuality of New Orleans’s Mardi Gras. And last month saw the release of Volume 1 of our Love Letters anthologies. This month, discover four hot stories with a military twist in Love Letters Volume 2: Duty to Please.

  Sandy James, Shawna Thomas, Cathy Pegau and Stacy Gail all return to previously established worlds in their respective books. In Sandy James’s The Brazen Amazon, the Air Amazon is sent to protect computer wizard Zach from a rogue goddess who wants to use him to destroy the world. Journey of Dominion, book two of The Triune Stones series from Shawna Thomas, continues the story of Sara, trained from birth for one purpose: to reunite three ancient stones to restore balance to the lands.

  Female/female romance Deep Deception by Cathy Pegau follows the harrowing story of a beautiful agent and the woman she has no choice but to trust...until the secrets they’re each keeping threaten to get them both killed. And the plan for a demonic apocalypse is at last uncovered by a maimed member of the Nephilim and a scarred young woman who’s been to hell and back in Stacy Gail’s Wounded Angel, book three of The Earth Angels.

  Last but certainly not least, Dee J. Adams brings us the next installment in her high-octane Adrenaline Highs series with romantic suspense Living Dangerously. If you’re new to Dee’s books, you can easily start here, or go back to the beginning with Dangerous Race.

  This month, start a new series, revisit a favorite world or discover a new-to-you author with our May releases. And don’t forget to check out our catalog for backlist from these and other authors in all your preferred genres.

  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 my mom. She knows why.

  And to Papa, who spent far too much time drinking bourbon punch at the Court of Two Sisters.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Michele Hauf, who turned me on to the word hiraeth and the Tumblr site http://other-wordly.tumblr.com/, where Bobby Prejean learned the word.

  As always, heartfelt gratitude to the Critique Partner Cone Triad: Carolyn Crane, Laura Bickle and Marcella Burnard. Carolyn, for expert waiter advice, boundless enthusiasm and incisive sex-choreography. Laura, for insisting I follow the food, even though I was dubious. And for suggesting the cooking dinner scene. Marcella, for helping me to find the keys to the father and for excellent insights that brought it all together—and also: wrought iron. I don’t think this book would have happened without you gals!

  Many thanks to Kimberly Hull, for letting me borrow her line about what she’d put on her resume, if she could get away with it.

  Thanks to the city of New Orleans, a longtime love in spite of, or perhaps because of, the mud on her hem. I changed the names, but all the places live in my heart, in vivid and sensuous eternal life—even the ones that are gone now.

  Thanks, yet again, to my fabulous editor, Deb Nemeth, who always knows exactly how to bring out the best in everything I write.

  Many thanks to all the readers who loved and supported Sapphire, the first book in this series. Thanks to the Oklahoma RWA Chapter for awarding Sapphire first place in their International Digital Award. Without all the love, this series might have stopped there. Knowing you’re all out there is heartwarming.

  Finally, to David, who is always there to celebrate with me. Fasten your seat belt, my dear!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter F
ifteen

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  “No,” Dani said into her cell, “I need more than that.”

  She listened to the local contact drawl on about docks, something about the river being high, or low—she’d lost track of which was the problem—and eyed a vine spilling over a crumbling stone wall. It tumbled with florid blossoms, glowing scarlet, deep-throated blooms that seemed nearly sexual. They could work in one of the shoots, a metaphor for allure. The very lushness of the bloom might put the models to shame, however.

  Besides, the concept for the “Fashion Masquerade” piece focused more on contrivances and layers of artifice. Not the real sensuality of nature.

  Her stomach sent up a hollow signal and she glanced at her watch. If she didn’t get a move on, she’d miss an opportunity to eat anything at all.

  “Look,” she finally interrupted, breaking what she knew was a cardinal rule of the South, “either you can deliver or you can’t. It’s as simple as that. I don’t want to play the bitch here, but if I can’t have the location, then I have to come up with something else. Okay? Fine. Call me later when you know.”

  She swiped the phone to silence, tucked it, along with her sunglasses, into her purse and hastened through the stone archways of the next restaurant on her list. No way would she entirely miss the fabulous dining New Orleans offered. Following a strict calorie budget—tighter even than the monetary one for this location shoot—she could flirt with temptation for one lunch each day, without completely succumbing to the dark side.

  A little denial never hurt anyone.

  Sometimes it was better when it hurt. Pain is just weakness leaving your body.

  Settling at her table in the shaded courtyard, her pin-striped jacket felt like just the right weight. Fortunate, since the damp cling of her white silk shirt told her she didn’t dare take the fitted top layer off. It might not be all that hot yet in the city, but it was humid as hell.

  “Welcome to the Court des Deux Pendus,” the smooth, impeccably garbed waiter greeted her, snapping a linen napkin open on her lap after setting a basket of fragrant rolls on the table. “May I offer you a cocktail or bring you water? We offer a Perrier sparkling or an Evian still.”

  “The still, please, with a wedge of lime.”

  She handed back the wine list and, resolutely, the bread basket. “And, if you have a kind heart, save me and take this away.”

  He glanced from the rolls to her with a raised eyebrow. “These are rosemary yeast rolls, made in the traditional style, with whipped honey butter. Are you sure?”

  She groaned and fluttered her hand over her heart. “Maybe half, but that’s all.”

  With a conspiratorial smile, he offered the basket and she plucked out a single roll. He promised to be back with her water and to take her order. Dani cut the roll, set the slightly larger half on her coffee saucer and scooted it to the other side of the table.

  The first nibble melted in her mouth, sweet, heavy, with that perfect spike of rosemary. Resisting the wild desire to devour it, she forced herself to set the rest down and opened the leather-bound menu to decide what she could be allowed to have. The embossed image on the cover caught her eye, a stylized icon of two women, hanging by manacles. Les Deux Pendus, apparently.

  She had just started to read the italicized story on the inside flap, when the waiter returned, pouring her water from a glass bottle with a neat twist of his wrist and setting a salver of lime wedges at her elbow.

  “For our specials we have Oysters Gratin, made with fresh-caught Gulf oysters, spinach, Italian sausage and Grana cheese bread crumbs. The soup is a cream of garlic. We also have Prawns Louisianne, served with our house remoulade. For the fish of the day, we have a delightful red snapper, just off the boats this morning, stuffed with shrimp, crawfish and crabmeat, topped with saffron cream sauce and served with a side of étouffée and our Boursin whipped potatoes.”

  She longed for the oysters, but even one would likely blow her entire calorie budget, what with the sausage. And the butter and the egg yolks and the cheese. Eat the entire appetizer and she’d never be a size two again. Something a woman working in the industry could not afford. She’d pick just one indulgence. A small one. “I’ll have the snapper, preferably poached, but without the cream sauce. Instead of the potatoes, I’ll have a green salad, no dressing, and the étouffée on the side.” She handed the leather-bound menu back to him.

  The waiter automatically took it, smooth, but with a pinched look around his mouth. “Madam—”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Of course not, madam, but the chef is—”

  “Then I don’t understand.” She cocked her head, adding a sweet smile that worked on vendors, pouty models and diva photographers alike. The waiter was no different, disappearing instantly.

  She sat back, crossing her legs inside her pencil skirt and enjoying the whisper of her silk hose. Sipping the cool water, she surveyed the courtyard. Heavily draped with overhanging vines, it felt nearly like a cave—or a grape arbor. She loved the sense of European age here, the gracefulness of another era. France should be even better. Perhaps once her position was safely solidified at Vogue Paris, she would take weekend trips to the countryside to see the medieval towns, the ancient vineyards and sample the wines. Oh, and the cheeses. If she rented a bike, the exercise would offset what she ate.

  But that was for later.

  On the stone walls—exposed brick on one side, heavy cut gray blocks on the others, like what might be used to build a cloister or a dungeon—hung various accoutrements of the building’s previous life. Here a set of iron manacles. There a leering metallic mask. A gargoyle peered through the leaves, tongue hanging out lasciviously.

  It all made an intriguing contrast to the pretty diners sitting at their white linen—draped tables, wielding sparkling silver and sipping from crystal.

  A crash from the kitchen shattered the mood, heads swiveling to catch the source of the commotion, a voice bellowing, quite clearly now, “Not in my restaurant!”

  A man in chef’s whites charged out among the elegant tables, zeroed in on her and, with a sneer twisting his handsome mouth, strode up to her table.

  “You do not tell me.”

  “Excuse me?” Dani looked him up and down to steady herself. Slim, American—which surprised her because most five-stars seemed to think they needed European chefs—dark eyes that matched his neatly trimmed beard, a piratical gold hoop in one ear. Was that a Cajun accent? Surely not.

  “I cook for you. You eat. That’s how this works.” He gave the abandoned half roll a glinting glance of contempt. “You will have my snapper as I give it to you. I promise it will be perfect.”

  She set her teeth. “I pay and you make what I want. That is how this works.”

  He reassessed her and Dani felt his estimation rise, as it always did. She knew what they saw when they looked at her—the cursed cupid’s bow lips, her thickly lashed gray eyes, the round cheeks that never slimmed, no matter her body fat, and the Grecian black curls that would not be tamed in this humidity. She looked like a china doll.

  It always shocked them that she wasn’t as sweet as she looked. Surprise!

  Fire sparked in his black eyes. Behind him, the maitre d’ hovered. She pursed her lips, painted a perfect candy red, and raised the arches of her brows. “Did I stutter?”

  Unexp
ectedly, a smile crept through his anger, not of pleasure, but of a challenge taken. An image of him tossing her over the table, raising her skirt and plunging into her flashed through her mind, so vivid and sudden, so unlike her usual thoughts, that she wondered if somehow it came from him.

  “No, chère. Did I?”

  The courtyard wasn’t cool at all. Her breasts felt suddenly hot and swollen inside the silk cage of her bra. She fought the urge to scissor her legs together. All for one fantasy-inducing smile. It must be the adrenaline of confrontation. That spiced-cream Cajun cadence didn’t hurt either. She took up the gauntlet.

  “Snapper.” She enunciated clearly, so he could read her lips. “Poached. No sauce. Green salad—”

  He slammed his palms down on the table, hard enough to send a nervous titter through the riveted diners, not enough to make her flinch. The maitre d’ fluttered forward, hesitated, then disappeared from view as the chef leaned in. He smelled of garlic simmering in butter, a hint of sweet spice and chicory.

  “No. Not in my restaurant.”

  “You don’t know how to cook anything less than ten thousand calories?” She baited him. His gaze fastened on her lips and for a wild moment, she thought he might actually seize her. A ridiculous thought, but her cheeks heated.

  “Madam, I—” The maitre d’ tried to intercede, banished by a peremptory flick of the chef’s hand.

  “Why do you come here, I wonder?” His penetrating gaze fixed on her.

  “To eat.”

  “That is not eating.”

  “It’s moderation.”

  “Pfft.” He blew air through his teeth. “You lie to yourself. You go for the extreme, but the wrong one, I think. I won’t play your game. You will leave.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The shock closed her throat around the words.

  “Leave. Go back to New York. I will not feed you. You don’t deserve what I have to offer.”