“What She Craves” by Anne Rainey
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Genre: Contemporary Romance, Red Hots!
ISBN: 978-1-60928-267-7
Length: Short Story
Price: 2.50
Publication Date: December 14, 2010
Cover art by Scott Carpenter
Unwrapping these gifts could get a girl in a world of trouble.
Cape May, Book 2
Tory Jeffries likes things simple. A modest home, a web design business, easygoing men. Except there’s never one around when she needs one—and she needs a date for the event of the year, her friend Con Walker’s annual Christmas party. Not that she couldn’t go alone, but spending the evening as a third wheel doesn’t appeal.
When her old friend Devon Mason turns up dateless as well, she anticipates a fun evening with her flirty, bad-boy buddy. Then Devon and Con offer her a Christmas treat that her inner slut begs her not to refuse. A night with both delicious, muscular men. In Con’s bed. Naked.
After growing up together with an up-close-and-personal view of life’s ugly side, it doesn’t surprise Devon and Con that they’ve fallen for the same woman. They’ve watched her date men who aren’t nearly good enough for her, and now it’s time to show the fiery blonde just how perfectly she fits in their sinful fantasy sandwich. When they take their first long, slow taste, something extraordinary happens. They fall in love.
Now all they have to do is convince their suddenly skittish princess that fairy tales can come true…
Warning: This book contains one sassy heroine getting two tasty alpha heroes for Christmas. Expect some crazy hot m/f/m sex and a Christmas Eve party that’ll blow your stockings clean off.
An excerpt from
What She Craves
Copyright © 2010 Anne Rainey
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
Devon stood on her front step, one broad shoulder braced against the doorframe, wearing a crisp white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of black slacks that showed off his long, powerful legs. She’d never seen him looking quite so magnificent. He’d even tried to comb the wild mane of his hair into some semblance of style. She could have told him he shouldn’t have bothered. Tory had always liked Devon’s messy brown hair.
“You look great,” Tory complimented, hoping her voice didn’t sound quite as throaty as she suspected.
His grin, laced with just a shade of masculine need, melted her insides as he stared down at her. “And you look sexy as hell, sugar.”
Tory’s hands shook with nerves. Another first. Devon never made her nervous. They’d been friends too long for that. Three years of knowing a person, seeing them at their best as well as their worst, tended to bridge the gap. Admittedly, Devon wasn’t acting himself of late. For instance, the way he looked at her now, as if he wanted to run his tongue over her, slowly, for hours. Yeah, that was a new one.
“Thanks. I spent a bloody fortune, so it better look fabulous.”
“You’re a total babe. I’m going to have to fend the guys off.”
Tory narrowed her eyes. “Why would you even bother?”
Devon stepped through the front door. His hand lifted to her cheek, and the warm strength of him obliterated her nerves in an instant. “Because you’re with me,” he growled.
“This isn’t a date,” Tory reminded him—and herself. If only she could stop thinking of it in that light, it’d give her words more credibility.
“I’m a man. You’re a woman. We’re going to a party together. How is that not a date?”
“We’re friends. This is no different than if I were going on a bike ride with Summer.”
“So, Summer thinks you look sexy, then? Summer can’t take her gaze off the way that satin hugs your curves?”
“Devon.” His name and nothing more. It was all Tory could manage in that moment.
He stroked a finger down her chin, then removed his hand altogether. She shivered clear to her toes. “Come on, sugar. Let’s party.”
She smiled, feeling her confidence level rise a notch. She was going out with one of her best friends and she was going to have a good time. Simple as that.
Fifteen minutes later, when Tory entered Con’s mansion—and that was the only way to describe a house the size of Con’s—she took in the beautiful decorations. One of the tallest trees she’d ever seen filled one corner of the great room. Mistletoe hung in various spots around the spacious room. The winding staircase leading to the second floor was decorated with large red bows and evergreen wreaths. The festive atmosphere warmed her heart. Con had grown up being bounced from one foster home to another. Poor and alone, with the exception of Devon, Con had built quite a life for himself with a lot of hard work and a good sense of business. Christmas music and more than a hundred guests filled the place to bursting and made her feel less skittish. Big crowds of strangers she could handle. It was the man at her side who had her wondering.
Tory quickly scanned the crowd, but didn’t see Con anywhere. “Where’s the man of the hour?”
Devon placed his hand at the small of her back and led her across the room. “Probably in the kitchen. You know how he is about the food. Everything has to be perfect or he has a conniption.”
She envisioned Con hovering over some poor unsuspecting chef and groaned. “We’d better find him before we have a repeat of last year’s Christmas party.”
Devon snorted. “Con deserved to have cheesecake dumped over his head. He was being an ass.”
She clutched her purse tighter as they neared the double doors leading into the kitchen. “But it was a waste of a perfectly good cheesecake, and that’s just wrong no matter how you look at it.”
“I’d forgotten how much you loved that stuff.” He chuckled. “Con felt terrible because you looked so sad over the loss.”
Pushing the door inward, she groused, “I wasn’t sad. No one gets sad over cheesecake.”
Devon snorted. “You looked like a little lost puppy.”
She started to protest that ridiculous statement, but the sight that greeted her inside the huge room with its stainless steel counters and cabinets took her breath. Not one, but three cheesecakes sat on the counter mere feet away. One was topped with strawberries, another with cherries, and the third was drizzled with chocolate sauce. Drooling would be extremely unladylike, Tory remaindered herself. She spied Con next to the stove, hovering near a steaming pot of…something. He turned, and their gazes clashed. The slow grin that spread across his face had her heart beating faster. Con should never be allowed to smile. It was like watching the sun rise over Cadillac Mountain in Maine. It made you want to stop and stare for a good ten minutes.
Unable to budge even an inch, Tory watched as Con crossed the room then gently pulled her into his arms. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. Inching backward, he looked her over. “You look gorgeous, baby.”
Taking advantage, Tory let her gaze wander. Con’s close-cropped midnight black hair, navy blue slacks and the white dress shirt straining to contain his thickly muscled torso sent a little shiver down her body. Con was a big man. Powerful. A little intimidating until you got to know him. His silver eyes and the hard planes of his face told of a rough life. Oh, Con might be rolling in money now, but Tory knew it hadn’t always been that way. In fact, growing up, he and Devon both had been forced to fight just to survive. She didn’t know all of it, but the little she did know always made her heart ache for the pair.
“Thanks,” she said. “You, uh, clean up pretty well yourself.”
“Gee, thanks.” He tweaked her nose. “If you’re going to be ornery, then you won’t get any of my cheesecake.”
She peeked around his shoulder and sighed. “There are three of them.”
Con stepped back and folded his arms over his chest. “And I made each one myself. So, be a good girl tonight.”
Devon stepped forward, a frown marring his handsome face. “Why three?”
“To make up for last year’s fiasco,” Con muttered. “Hell, Tory, you looked so sad when you saw that ruined dessert, I figured I owed you.”
Tory planted her hands on her hips and glared at the two men. “For the last time, I wasn’t sad. Upset, yes. That cheesecake looked delicious. But I was not sad, for crying out loud.”
“Were too,” Con and Devon both said at the same time.
It was futile to argue with the two of them. Especially when they chose to gang up on her. “Whatever,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “I need a drink.”
“Champagne?” Con ventured.
“White wine, Con,” Devon said. “Tory hates champagne.”
“Oh, right.” Con headed toward the long steel countertop where several crystal glasses sat. He picked up a bottle of white wine and held it up for her to inspect. “This just arrived, actually. I’ve been letting it breathe. It’s a new winery I’m thinking of investing in. You’ll be my taste-tester.”
“As long as I get to be your cheesecake taste-tester as well, I’ll be whatever you want.”
Con glanced over at Devon, and the pair exchanged a mysterious look. Neither spoke as Con poured the wine. He brought it to her. Tory sniffed the fragrant liquid. Spicy and sweet. Interesting. She took a sip. “Smooth, sweet, but not too sweet. Nice.”
“Good.”
The music changed, and suddenly Tory wanted to dance. “Which of you is going to dance with me? Don’t make me look for someone else, I don’t feel like doing the flirting thing tonight.”
“I thought I made it clear you’re my date,” Devon chastised. “No flirting unless it’s with me.”
“Or me,” Con said, his voice low, a little rough.
Tory looked at Devon, then Con. She couldn’t tell if they were teasing or not. She didn’t want to know, either. Instead she took another sip of her wine. Devon plucked the glass out of her hand and handed it to Con. “Come on, sugar. You can move those sexy hips all you want.”
As they went back out to the main room, Con following close behind, Tory’s mind whirled with the possibility that the two men were making a move on her. Could it be? Devon tended to flirt. It was just his way. Con, not so much. So, what was up with them tonight?
Read Chapter One
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