Read Accidentally Hooked (The Naked Truth Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Carmen Falcone
Accidentally Hooked (The Naked Truth Series Book 1)
Table of Contents
Accidentally Hooked ©2015 Carmen Falcone
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ISBN: 9781634526852
Edited by Deadra Krieger
Cover and formatting by
Sweet 'N Spicy Designs
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any locales, or persons living or dead is coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, and transmit in any form or by any means. For information on subsidiary rights contact the author via her website.
Accidentally Hooked
Carmen Falcone
Exposing the truth has never been naughtier
Ryan Winters will do whatever it takes to protect his sister from marrying a sleaze ball rumored to be the head of a prostitution ring. If that includes bringing down the whole operation, so be it. When he spots a gorgeous hooker, he decides she could be the key for exposing everyone.
Stood up by her identical twin sister once again, Kika Martinez has no idea why the sexiest man she ever laid eyes on mistakes her for a prostitute. It’s wrong, but also part of her most secret—and unrealized—sexual fantasy. Wanting to forget her guilt about her brother’s death just for one night, she gives into temptation and indulges in a hot night of passion.
When Kika discovers her sister’s life is in jeopardy, everything changes. Ryan is set on uncovering the truth, but will he do that at the price of exposing Kika and her sister?
This one is for you, Dyn Bourrett and Jennifer Martinez. Two amazing gals, lovely friends, and true Angels! It’s nice leveling up with you.
Chapter One
Where the hell is she?
Kika Martinez sucked in her breath and lifted the square, vodka-filled glass. She scanned the bar area where she’d been sitting like an idiot for the past hour. The laugh from a couple of decked out drag queens filled the air. A group of loud men, wearing leather jackets and aged denim, occupied most of the round tables. Suggesting to Luna they meet at this sketchy joint located on a gloomy side street off the Strip hadn’t been her best moment.
Then again, had there been any great moments for the past six years for her and her identical twin sister? She downed a shot of vodka. The alcohol burned the back of her throat and loosened her limbs. Doubtful. Since she’d left Nevada six years ago—only returning once a year for the anniversary of Freddy’s death—she and Luna’s interactions had been strained and superficial.
Her fingers drummed on the cheap vinyl counter. She gulped the remaining alcohol, lifted the glass, and gestured to the middle age bartender rocking a mini skirt for another drink. Luna wasn’t coming. Kika had been in Vegas for a couple of days, and whenever her sister wasn’t working, she was apologizing for not having met her after work.
What gives?
A string of catcalls and whistles turned her attention to the sofa in the corner.
Damn.
She counted at least five people on that couch, all in stages of undress, rubbing against one another. Wow. A couple of topless women kissed each other while the males touched them and licked their necks.
Her sex clenched. Lord, when had she last had sex? Too long ago.
“How much?” The smoker’s voice from the large fellow to her right yanked her back to the present. He shuffled in front of the blonde woman sitting next to her.
“Three hundred an hour.” Blondie’s voice was much fresher than the heavy makeup on her square face. Impossibly long, corn-colored locks swept down her body, almost the same length of the gold sequin dress that hugged her slim frame. A hooker.
The bartender put another glass in front of her, and Kika grabbed a couple bills from her handbag and handed them to the bartender.
The man snickered. “Two hundred.”
Blondie threw her head back, with a soft laugh. “Three hundred.”
Kika gave her a sideways glance and couldn’t help but notice the confidence that cloaked the woman just as her snug outfit. Like she knew exactly what her time was worth. Like she didn’t give a damn if that john agreed or not. There would be others, wouldn’t there? Other men. Other opportunities to make it right. Or, in her case, wrong.
It’s not my business
. Not really—though she had fantasized about it, hadn’t she? Shifting in her seat, Kika toyed with the multi-layered necklace she’d made.
For years, she wondered what it would be like to throw caution to the wind and act on it. Just once. A crazy idea, of course. One she never had the guts or lack of common sense to indulge. And now, her secret fantasy was unfolding right in front of her. Warm moisture simmered between her legs.
Except the woman was a real prostitute.
Except the woman wasn’t her.
He licked his lips and groaned. “Deal.”
As Blondie slurped the rest of her colorful cocktail, the man whispered something in her ear. Blondie let out a joyful laugh, and touched his chest. Kika shuffled in her stool, and clenched her legs tighter till the space between them hummed. Burned. Pulsed.
She watched them stride out of the bar, taking her fantasy with them. Playing a prostitute. A woman who didn’t experience guilt or any other useless emotion. A woman in control.
She’d tried to convince Patrick, the Irish guy she dated for six months, to act it out with her. His response had been a mocking laugh, leaving her embarrassed and unfulfilled. She should have known. Patrick wasn’t that kind of man.
Hell, I’m not that kind of woman
. Not really. She wanted to be…just once. She ran her finger over the edge of the glass and sighed.
Jeez. I need therapy.
“Waiting for someone?” The deep voice made her almost jump from her seat. Phew. The man who slid on the stool next to her raked his fingers through his military buzz. She caught a whiff of his clean, fresh cologne. A thrill of excitement rippled through her. Damn was he sexy. The black polo shirt hugged his athletic frame, and dark blue denim hinted at muscular thighs and legs. His turquoise-blue eyes took her away from the hustle and bustle of the crazy bar and led her to serene, sandy beaches with gorgeous sunsets and a cold bottle of Mexican beer.
“A no-show.” She pushed through the resentment lumping her throat. Did she even have the right to be mad at Luna for leaving her on the night they should have remembered the anniversary of Freddy’s death, when Kika had been the one who abandoned what was left of their family?
He gave her a once over as if wanting to engrave her every feature in his memory. She drew in a breath.
“His loss.” His lips thinned into a sexy smile. “My gain.”
She was about to ask why he’d just assume she’d been waiting for a man, when the curiosity over his strong accent derailed her. “Let me guess…Australian?”
He leaned forward, hands in surrender. “Yeah. Vegas?”
She sat up straighter, trying to wrestle the rumbling of her body. The hot Australian searched her eyes with his, and their gazes held. His turquoise irises darkened. The promise of the paradisiacal beach remained, though by the way he inhaled—the sharp sound slicing the silence—she doubted her visit to the beach would be serene. Or uneventful. “Where in Australia are you from?”
“Sydney. Ever been?”
She shook her head. “I visited Cairns once.”
“Business or pleasure?” He drawled the last word, and her pulse raced in response.
Business or pleasure? Hadn’t it been a bit of both? Sure, having jobs around the world was more fun than sticking with one place. Even though just recently she started to consider settling down, especially if she wanted to turn her passion of jewelry making into a profitable business. She had dozens of sample pieces in her suitcase—handmade necklaces and earrings all inspired by places she visited—that she hoped to show a couple department stores in New York City after leaving Vegas.
“What can I get you?” the female bartender asked him, the platinum blonde chewing on her lower lip. Kika crossed her arms over her chest. The bartender ignored the other patrons who’d called her or darted inquiring glances her way. She turned her attention to him as he ordered a club soda. Did he know the reach of the sexual charisma oozing from him?
The lazy smile tipping his lips told her he did. Hell yeah. “You still haven’t told me where you’re from.”
“I was born in Mexico.” The words fled her parted lips without her consent. “Moved to California with my mom when I was three. Then Nevada.”
“Was she looking for better opportunities?”
She shrugged. “Getting away from my deadbeat father was a nice incentive…so, yeah.” The nonchalance in her voice hid the pain her mother had endured as the wife of a reckless husband, then the illegal immigrant who compensated her little English with tons of labor. Every time her mother returned to the small apartment they shared with their aunt Rosa, Kika still smelled the intoxicating lemony scent from Pine-Sol on her tattered clothes.
He brought his drink to his lips and she watched his full bottom lip caress the glass.
“What brings you to Vegas, Aussie boy?”
“I’m hardly a boy.” The hearty chuckle left little to the imagination. She sucked in her breath. The image of that lazy beach, with white sand and Polynesian flair, captured her mind again with the nostalgia of a vintage record player. “I’m here for a wedding.”
“A wedding?” she asked in a low voice. Well, of course Mr. Australia had a catch. A fine ass man like that wouldn’t be single for long.
“My sister is getting married. I couldn’t miss it.” The assurance in his voice wrapped her like a beach towel.
She bit back a smile. “Sucks to be you… What’s your name again?”
“Ryan Winters.”
“I’m Kika.”
“Nice to meet to you, Kika.” He stretched his hand to hers, and the firm touch sent a ripple of excitement up her arm. His skin was hot and his grip, commanding.
She smothered a soft moan. Moan?
Get real, chica.
She glanced down at their hands, speechless, then at him. With a wicked grin, he brushed his thumb on her palm. The gentle caress upped her body temperature. If his handshake alone unsettled her nerves, what else could he do? She withdrew her hand from his and leaned back on the stool. “So, what do you do for a living?”
Ryan’s eyes flicked with amusement. “I buy homes in okay areas but with significant foundation and cosmetic problems, renovate them, and put them back on the market for a profit.”
Her gaze strayed to his large hands, and fingers. The planes of his strong hands spoke of outdoor labor, although during their brief brush there’d been no roughness. A shot of pure adrenaline spilled into her bloodstream. “Do you ever lose money from picking the wrong property to flip?”
He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “I never pick the wrong property.”
She shifted in the stool and raised her chin. “Even if it was way more work than you anticipated? If it costs more than you imagined?”
“Even then.”
She struggled to keep her spine locked, as if otherwise she would dissolve into a river of hot lava. His eyes continued to stare into hers, with the kind of intimacy they weren’t allowed to share. She wasn’t allowed to. Still, yanking her gaze was almost impossible. A lingering glance into his baby blues, and she slipped into a trance.
“Since we’re talking about costs…I’m interested in you.” He stroked her cheek, and she clung to her last thread of control not to soak into his touch. “Let’s get out of here. If you’re available, of course.”