Loe raamatut: «Simply Sensual»

Rave reviews for the novels of
Carly Phillips

CROSS MY HEART

“Who doesn’t love a reunion of long-lost loves? Add a diabolical villain, as Carly Phillips does, and you have everything you need for a beach read.”

—Columbus Dispatch

“Smart, engrossing and totally addictive! Cross My Heart is a definite must-have in this season’s beach bag.”

—www.FreshFiction.com

SUMMER LOVIN’

“Phillips’s light touch assures a happy ending to this diverting beach read.”

—Publishers Weekly

“A funny and touching family drama.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“A fun, yet emotional story. A story that will keep you hooked with its kooky, yet charming characters.”

—Romance Reviews Today

What’s steamier than a New York City summer? Carly Phillips’s Hot series!

HOT ITEM

“Saving her best for last, Phillips wraps up her jocular Hot Zone trilogy….”

—Publishers Weekly

“Phillips has penned a charming, fast-paced contemporary romp-through-the-sheets.”

—Booklist

“Hot Item is a winner.”

—Romance Reviews Today

HOT NUMBER

“A veteran romance author who climbed to star status in Harlequin’s Temptation line, Phillips is certain to capture a new bank of fans with the fresh venue and stylish dialogue featured in this perky series.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Hot Number is a fun, sexy read. For everyone who has ever wished to turn the head of a guy, this book definitely allows you that fantasy while giving you a satisfying love story. Ms. Phillips has proven herself more than capable of delivering stories that touch your heart and your funnybone.”

—In the Library Reviews

“In the follow-up to last year’s Hot Stuff, Phillips once again dives into the high pressure world of sports. Micki and Damian each have quite a few issues to resolve, which adds spice to an already volatile mixture.”

—Jill M. Smith, Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)

“Carly Phillips hits a home run with the fun, yet touching Hot Number.”

—Jennifer Bishop, Romance Reviews Today

HOT STUFF

“This breezy book will likely score a touchdown with readers looking for sexy thrills and instant gratification.”

—Publishers Weekly

“This first book in The Hot Zone trilogy shines with Phillips’ trademark sizzle and sensuality. She delivers strong, appealing characters while exploring the dynamics of families—what brings them together and what draws them apart. The ending emotionally satisfies and gives readers a tantalizing peek at the romantic quandaries awaiting the rest of the family.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)

“Hot Stuff is a surefire hit.”

—Jennifer Bishop, Romance Reviews Today

Carly Phillips
Simply Sensual

SIMPLY sensual

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

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

BEN CALLAHAN FROWNED at the bone china cup on the sterling serving tray in front of him. Unable to fit one of his large fingers through the handle, he tried instead to hold the delicate cup with his whole hand. He’d have chucked the idea of attempting to grasp the cup, if not for his elderly hostess. Emma Montgomery had declared it was teatime, and from what Ben had seen, he wouldn’t be getting any information out of her until he’d shared in her daily ritual.

He’d never understand the wealthy, nor did he care to try. He’d had a good deal of experience with the breed, none of it leaving a positive impression. His mother had scrubbed floors for a living and he’d seen firsthand how poorly the help was treated. He’d whisked his mother away from menial labor and verbal abuse as soon as he was old enough to support them both.

It was ironic, really. Most of the clients he’d accumulated as a private investigator had money to burn. Ben didn’t mind taking their cash. It paid not only his bills, but the extra money covered the cost of the independent living community where he’d placed his mother. He considered it payback for her years of service.

The elderly woman seated across from him was a potential client. She’d been referred to him by an acquaintance in her social set, one he remembered from the time he’d worked for her last year. So far Emma Montgomery, his hostess, had been refreshing, both charming and persistent at the same time.

While other clients tried to whittle away at his expenses and final take, despite their ability to afford his reasonable fee, Emma Montgomery had paid his airfare and expenses from New York City to Hampshire, Massachusetts, to discuss her reasons for wanting to hire him. As further enticement, she’d named a hefty sum he’d never seen before on a single case, and promised him free rein with expenses, no questions asked. All before she’d explained why she needed his services.

Ben was not only intrigued, but inclined to accept. The money she’d promised would enable him to have his mother moved from independent living to assisted care. With her eyesight rapidly deteriorating, she couldn’t live alone and this case might make the upgraded care possible. If it meant putting up with idiosyncrasies like teatime, he’d force himself to endure.

He met his hostess’s gaze. Piercing brown eyes regarded him from over the rim of her cup. I’m waiting, she seemed to be saying. There was nothing he could do but raise the cup and take a sip.

The minute the hot liquid passed his lips, she said, “My granddaughter needs a sitter. Do you have any interest in the job?”

He swallowed fast, burning his tongue and nearly losing his precarious hold on the fine china. No way he’d heard her correctly. She was offering all that good money for him to play baby-sitter? He shook his head. “Excuse me?”

“Perhaps I didn’t phrase that quite right. I think maybe keeper is the correct word.” She tapped the side of her head, without messing the perfect bun in her gray hair. “Yes, that’s right. My granddaughter is in the process of finding herself and she needs a keeper.”

He placed the cup onto the saucer before he could do serious damage. “I think you’ve been misinformed, Mrs. Montgomery.” Good money or not, Ben drew the line at baby-sitting.

“Call me Emma.” Her smile grew wider.

“Emma. I’m a private investigator. I don’t baby-sit wayward children. Just how old is your granddaughter anyway?”

Emma reached onto the table beside the couch, holding a photo in her hand. She turned the picture toward him.

The woman staring back at him was no child. Honey-blond hair, warm brown eyes and a face as delicate as the china he’d recently held stared back at him. A rush of desire hit Ben hard and a shot of adrenaline jump-started his heart.

“She’s almost thirty and quite a beauty, isn’t she?” Emma asked, pride lilting her voice.

He met the older woman’s gaze and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “She’s…something all right.” A golden princess.

In his profession Ben was used to observing people and photographs. He was used to forming opinions and going with gut instinct. He was rarely mistaken in his impressions and never blindsided by a pretty face. And he’d always been able to remain detached. Until now.

This woman was beautiful enough to affect his senses and sensual enough to rev up his libido. Her eyes reflected a wealth of emotion and hidden secrets—secrets he yearned to uncover. The assignment he’d been about to throw away had suddenly become one he couldn’t resist and a distinct sense of unease slithered through him.

“Grace moved to New York City a few years ago,” Emma said. “She’s always lived off the trust her parents set up for her as a child. No steady job, no steady man.” She said the last with enforced meaning before she appraised Ben from his work boots to his unkempt hair.

He shook his head as if he could rid himself of her penetrating stare. “And what’s going on with Grace that’s prompted you to contact me now?”

“She’s stopped withdrawing money from her trust and decided it’s time to live on her own.”

“I’d think that was an admirable move,” Ben said, having more respect for the new Grace than the one who had lived off her family money for years.

“Well, of course it is. It’s how I raised her, after all—To be her own person. It worked, to an extent. She got out of Hampshire and away from her controlling father, Edgar, who is my son. We call him the judge.” She laughed but the sound contained no joy. “He has no idea what family means. Though I admit, with my grandson, Logan’s, recent marriage and new baby, he’s learning. But Grace isn’t around to see it.”

Sensing she’d gotten off track, Ben tried to steer her back to what she wanted from him. “So you want Grace back home?”

Emma shook her head. “Not if she’s safe and happy in New York. That’s all I care about, you see. But I can’t get information out of her because she’s clammed up on me.” The older woman zipped her fingers across her lips. “All she’ll say is that she’s fine and I shouldn’t worry.” Emma snorted, telling Ben what she thought of her granddaughter’s silence. “How can I not worry, the way she travels with a camera around her neck, paying more attention to her photographs than her surroundings?”

“She’s an adult,” Ben felt compelled to remind Emma.

“Women like her are attacked every day in New York City. She swears she’s taken a self-defense class, as if that’s enough to soothe me. I’m certain she’s holding out. Ever since my brush with death, she thinks she’s protecting me. She doesn’t realize it’s more stressful on the heart, being kept in the dark.”

Ben nodded in understanding. His own father had died of a heart attack when Ben had been eight. He remembered him as a good man with a heart of gold. Too bad that heart had also been weak and he’d died driving home from his job as a department store manager, leaving no insurance and little money in the bank. His mother had been forced to extreme measures to make ends meet, and she’d turned to the only experience she had—housekeeping, only this time she worked in other people’s homes.

“Make no mistake, Mr. Callahan. I’m glad Grace is finally ready to tackle the world on her own.” Emma’s voice brought him back to the present. “It’ll give her a chance to sow those wild oats her father made her suppress, but at the same time, that kind of sudden freedom frightens me. Even nearing thirty Grace has been sheltered too long. And I know her. Now that she’s made a stand, her pride won’t let her call on me or her brother if she runs into trouble. I need to know she’s okay.” Emma placed a frail hand on his arm.

“Call me Ben,” he said, wondering if Emma was right—if Grace had a penchant for getting into trouble, and if so, what kind.

No way he could deny Emma the peace of mind she sought. Her obvious love for her granddaughter, along with his financial need, sealed his agreement.

She smiled. “I’ve taken a few liberties under the assumption you’d take this case.”

Ben was used to presumptuous clients, but he could only imagine what this woman had decided for him. “What liberties would those be, Mrs….” He caught the quick shake of her head and corrected the formality. “What liberties, Emma?”

“Grace lives in Murray Hill, in a one-bedroom off Third Avenue. After a long talk with the landlord, I managed to secure you the apartment across the hall. It seems his brother lives there and he’s out of the country on business for the next month.” Her white smile widened. “Wouldn’t it be nice of his good friend Ben Callahan to apartment-sit for him?” She reached for something on the sofa table behind her and dangled a set of keys in front of his eyes.

Ben shook his head. “How convenient.” He thought he’d been prepared for anything. He’d been wrong. “I’m sure you realize I already have a place to live, Emma.”

She rolled her eyes as if he were slow. “Of course you do.” Without warning, the older woman grabbed for his hand again, and her eyes met his in a silent plea, one he had a hard time ignoring. His gut clenched as he silently acknowledged he was in trouble.

“I need to know Grace is safe, satisfied and fulfilled before I pass on. And you can only do that if you get close enough to see for yourself. I’ve heard you’re the best, Ben.”

He knew he was being worked shamelessly, and even so, he couldn’t look away. Worse, her motives seemed so honest and pure, he couldn’t bring himself to turn her down. What would it hurt if he got to know the granddaughter to assure the grandmother everything was okay? He could give the older woman peace of mind and finance his mother’s care at the same time. A win-win situation, even if it meant putting up with the older woman’s meddling.

“Well?” Emma asked.

He glanced at the photo once more. Detachment? Hell, he’d been sucker-punched by a picture. Heaven only knew what his reaction would be to Grace Montgomery in the flesh.

Emma patted his knee. “That’s okay. All men react like that the first time they see her.”

Was that supposed to make him feel better?

“I suppose you realize now why she needs someone to look out for her, especially since she’s on her own and more vulnerable than before.”

Ben had his doubts Grace was as naive as Emma painted her. After all, she’d been living in the city and even with money to burn, she’d have learned to be cautious and careful. Still, he understood and felt the older woman’s concern.

Ben let out a groan. With little effort, he’d become invested in both Emma and her granddaughter. More than he should be with a client. Enough to warn him away from this case.

He stared into those compelling brown eyes and knew he couldn’t walk away. Emma’s obvious love and concern for Grace was one reason, his financial needs another. But there was yet another, more elemental reason not to opt out, his personal misgivings be damned. If he bailed, Emma would find another private investigator to get up close and personal with her granddaughter.

At a glance, Ben knew he couldn’t trust himself around Grace. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to let someone else take the job, either.

ADRENALINE PUMPED THROUGH Grace’s system, a natural reaction to the afternoon spent capturing pictures that filled her soul. Unlike her temporary job at a photo studio specializing in portrait shots, her time at the park held the key to her future and she reveled in every minute. Even a routine stop at the corner grocery store hadn’t dulled the sense of excitement she found doing what she loved, and if her instincts were on target, she’d captured exactly the right shots.

She juggled the bags filled with necessities while attempting to pull the apartment key out of her poncho pocket. There was so much flowing material she could barely find the opening. She understood now why the tailor had balked against sewing a pocket into the cape, but she hadn’t wanted to give up the garment in favor of her more sensible denim jacket. Given to her by her beloved grandmother, the poncho had once allowed her to hide her camera from the rest of the family who hadn’t understood her artistic obsession any more than they’d understood her.

She had escaped to another state and a huge city to be on her own, experience life and discover the real Grace Montgomery. Her likes, her whims, her future. Ironically the move alone hadn’t accomplished her goal. She’d ended up living off her trust, continuing to emulate her family because, subconsciously, she’d sought the approval she would never receive. It had taken her brother, Logan, and his recent wedding to the most real, down-to-earth woman Grace had ever met to shake Grace up and make her realize she wanted what Logan had: a life of her own choosing.

Once again, irony played a role. Though Grace had divorced herself from the snooty country club set back home, she’d kept in touch with her closest friends. Cara Hill, a woman Grace both liked and respected worked tirelessly for CHANCES, a charity that benefited underprivileged children. She was putting together a brochure and had purchased a huge layout in a high-circulation magazine aimed at enlightening the wealthy about the problems faced by people outside their social circle.

Raising substantial cash was the goal and Cara was taking a chance on an unknown photographer—on Grace—to capture that real world and the children who inhabited it. Grace refused to disappoint her. The experience could lead to more jobs and ultimately a photography career that paid the bills and left her fulfilled at the end of the day.

She felt the cold, metal key between her fingers at the same time the first brown bag toppled out of her arms and crashed to the floor. She glanced down at the white plastic bag and groaned. “It would have to be the eggs.”

“Another dinner party shot to hell?” A lazy masculine drawl sounded from behind her.

Instinct told her the sexy voice belonged to her new neighbor. Instinct and the curling warmth in her belly. She closed her eyes and held the feeling close. It matched the one she felt whenever she caught a glimpse of him out her window. The first time he’d been unloading a black Mustang packed tight with clothing and accessories. Her neighbor, Paul Biggs, an investment banker, was away on business and the super had mentioned she’d be having a new neighbor living across the hall.

He’d turned out to be a sexy new neighbor, in tight jeans and a faded blue T-shirt that clung to an incredibly sculpted body. Grace came from a world where men were soft and manicured. A specimen like him was just one of the treats of living far from home, and she’d enjoyed watching him from a distance.

Steeling herself for their first meeting, she set the rest of the bags on the floor. She turned, and although she’d glimpsed him through her window before and even snapped a few photos with her camera, she discovered nothing compared to seeing him in the flesh.

He stood across from her, one shoulder propped against the chipped wall. Once white, the dingy paint now held a gray tinge, and still her neighbor’s jet-black hair stood out in stark contrast. Tousled from an apparent jaunt outdoors, his dark hair reached his shoulders and begged for a woman’s touch.

Her touch. She swallowed hard and wondered where that notion had come from? She’d never been tempted to stroke a man’s hair before but nothing about him was like anything she’d ever encountered. He oozed raw sexiness and called to something primal and elemental inside her. Something she hadn’t known existed—until now.

He was pure male testosterone in a package that said, “Don’t mess with me.” And she was suddenly struck with how much fun it could be to do just that.

“Looks like you could use a hand. I’m Ben Callahan, your new neighbor.” His voice brought her out of her musings.

She realized she’d been staring and extended her hand. “Grace Montgomery.”

“I meant a helping hand.” He laughed, a seductive rumble that set her already raw nerve endings on fire.

Before embarrassment at her too-formal behavior could take over, he stepped forward and placed his large, warm palm inside hers. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Heat arced between them, sizzling and hot. Ben cleared his throat, then quickly released her hand, leaving Grace to wonder if he was as unsettled by the sensations as she.

He quickly composed himself and she wished she could do the same.

“Can I help you with those packages?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I can handle them.” But she couldn’t handle him or her reaction to him as easily.

“Well, my mother taught me never to let a lady struggle, and besides,” he said with a slow grin, “I like helping beautiful women.” Without waiting for her response, he stepped around the groceries, bent down and collected her bags.

She turned toward the door, key in hand. Aware of his heat and strength behind her, she put the key into the lock and let them into her apartment.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Just put them on the kitchen counter.” She pointed to the small pass-through that led to her working kitchen.

He deposited the bags, broken eggs included, onto the butcher-block countertop and turned. “So was I right? Did you ruin another dinner party by dropping the groceries?”

Obviously he was referring to last night’s parade of women who’d come to her apartment. Once Grace realized her job for CHANCES also enabled her to capture fabulous candid shots of children, she’d begun making copies—and the parents came by once a week for coffee and free photos. Considering her privileged upbringing—that she hadn’t worked for or deserved—it was the least she could do.

Although Grace hadn’t realized Ben was monitoring the comings and goings from her place, as an expression of his interest, it would do nicely.

She shook her head. “No dinner party, now or then. Nothing more planned than an evening in front of the TV. And last night wasn’t as big a bash as you seem to think.”

“I thought I might have missed out on a good party.” Curiosity lit his features as he met and held her gaze.

Warmth trickled through her veins. “Nope. Just a few friends over. Would it soothe your ego if I said your invitation got lost in the mail?” She grinned, unable to help the smile he inspired.

He laughed. “No, but it would help if you threw a welcome-to-the-building party in my honor.”

“I…uh, think that could be arranged.” Her boldness surprised her.

As much as she enjoyed their easy banter, this meeting had thrown her badly. She inhaled deeply. His musky scent seduced and aroused—and would now linger in her apartment long after he was gone. Her life, which just yesterday had been filled with routine and concern about making it on her own, now had spark and zing. Inspiration, she thought, glancing at the man in the fitted T-shirt.

He was everything that intrigued her in the opposite sex, nothing like the kind of men who’d asked her out back home—the suit-and-tie, suck-up to Judge Montgomery type of man, who had turned her ice-cold. And though she’d been just another anonymous female in New York City, she hadn’t given much thought to dating since her move. Not after the last couple of setups courtesy of her friends had turned into boring disasters.

Nothing about Ben was boring. She took in his rugged good looks, his sexy, bad-boy posture and attitude. There wasn’t a thing about him, from his alluring scent to his heated touch, she didn’t enjoy. Why not make use of her discovery?

Professionally Grace had already begun the starting steps toward a life of her own. On a more personal level, she’d become so used to turning down dates in favor of her own company, her femininity and wiles were rusty from disuse. But thanks to Ben Callahan that was about to change.

Whether he knew it or not, he had just become the second step on her road to self-knowledge.

She leaned toward him, a whisper away from temptation. “So what did you have in mind?”

A lazy smile lifted one side of his mouth and caused her to realize she’d backed herself into a corner. A very attractive corner.

“I’d like to get to know you, Grace.”

She smiled. “Sounds good to me.” She liked his boldness. She’d had her fill of too polite men who wined and dined but weren’t honest about their intentions. Ben let her know up-front who he was and what he wanted.

He’d implied he was available. Though Grace wanted to be bold and daring, all this was too new. She wasn’t ready to reveal that she desired to get to know him, too, but she had every intention of satisfying his request.

His aura of confidence appealed to the part of her that wanted to feel the same, and time with this man could teach her a lesson or two in self-esteem. He brought out a newer, bolder side of herself she wanted to experience again. Not to mention that the man was a feast for the senses and a boon to her sensual awakening. The knowledge set her heart jumping and myriad intimate possibilities raced through her mind. Her breath caught in a noticeable hitch.

She licked her dry lips and watched, fascinated, as his eyes followed the movement. Without warning, his gaze darted from hers and he turned away.

His sudden retreat was unexpected and hard to understand, but she let out a slow exhale of relief. The reprieve would give her a chance to catch her breath.

Hands in his back pockets and posture erect, no indication of interest or flirting in sight, he walked past her and glanced around her small apartment. “One bedroom?”

“Yes.”

His hand swept over the living area, replete with Oriental rugs and porcelain decorative pieces. “Beautiful place.”

“Thanks.” She’d decorated the apartment in the days when she’d still been living off her trust, before she’d figured out how to realize her dreams or even what they were. Though she wanted this man to see more to Grace than the trappings of wealth, she wasn’t about to get into explanations now, not when she knew so little about him.

She turned back to her kitchen. “I really should unpack the groceries.”

“Grace?”

She glanced his way.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Other than the fact that his hot-cold act confused her? But if his feelings were rampaging as quickly as hers, she could begin to understand. “Nothing’s wrong. Just lost in thought. It was nice meeting you, Ben.”

“Likewise.” He hesitated, then reached out and stroked a hand down her cheek. Another sudden change toward her. His fingertip lingered, his touch a sizzling combination of heat and electricity.

His eyes widened and he withdrew once more, confusion and regret sparking his gaze, leaving her to wonder again if he was as thrown by their first meeting as she.

“See you around, Gracie.”

She inclined her head. “Bye.”

He walked out of her apartment with a sexy stride she couldn’t help but admire. The door slammed shut behind him and Grace hugged her arms tight around her chest, amazed at the feelings and sensations he inspired.

Ben brought out the side of her she’d suppressed while trying to live by her father’s rigid rules. The only time she’d snuck out of the house to meet friends at a local bar, she’d lived to regret it. Her father had embarrassed her badly. He’d called every parent, gotten her friends grounded for weeks, and no one had spoken to Grace for an equally long time.

The judge had accomplished his goal. She’d never rebelled again. But in her sexy neighbor Grace saw the opportunity to do just that with no painful consequences.

When she’d decided to branch out on her own, she’d desired change in her life. She hadn’t known it would come in the form of her sexy, intriguing neighbor, Ben Callahan.

But she intended to take full advantage.