Mad About You
Mad About You
A Laurel Heights Novel
Kate Perry
Praise for Kate Perry’s Novels
“Perry’s storytelling skills just keep getting better and better!” –
Romantic Times Book Reviews
“Can’t wait for the next in this series…simply great reading. Another winner by this amazing author.”
–Romance Reviews Magazine
“Hot! Recommended!” –
Bookpleasures
“Exciting and simply terrific.”
–Romancereviews.com
“Kate Perry is on my auto buy list.”
–Night Owl Romance
“A winning and entertaining combination of humor and pathos.”
–Booklist
Other Titles by Kate Perry
Mad About You
Mad About You
Kate Perry
© 2013 by Phoenix Rising Enterprises, Inc.
Cover Graphic © Ocean/Corbis
Formatting by Polgarus Studio
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
Grounds for Thought, the neighborhood café, had been transformed into a sultan’s palace for Nicole’s lingerie debut. Gauzy material hanging all over, seductive music, dim lighting…
For everyone else, there was romance and excitement in the air tonight. For Julie, it was hell. The lingerie show was about to start, and her freakin’ orchid wouldn’t drape properly.
Julie glared at it, knowing her frustration had nothing to do with the flower and everything to do with her nemesis and their impending duel. But all thoughts of flowers and evil florists vacated her mind when
he
caught her eye.
He was medium height, muscular without being bulky. She liked the way he was dressed: nice slacks and a T-shirt under a dressy jacket. She could tell they were good quality but unpretentious and comfortable looking. He had short hair, a strong chin, and a hint of stubble. He walked like he owned the world, confident and sure.
Kind of attractive.
Okay—really hot.
And he headed straight for her.
He stopped in front of her, so close she could see the dark flecks in his hazel eyes. “What’s your name?” he asked.
His voice gave her goose bumps. She swallowed thickly. “Julie Miller.”
“Julie Miller”—he stepped closer—”I’m going to kiss you.”
She looked at his mouth. It was a nice mouth, not too thin, not too full. It looked like it might know what to do, but she figured she should check. “Are you a good kisser?”
“You tell me.” He cupped the side of her face and lowered his lips to hers.
It started soft, as if he was giving her time to adjust to the feel of him. Even though he wasn’t aggressive, he was still in charge.
She liked that. She’d gone out with way too many guys who were wimps. She appreciated the strength because, really, if a man were going to stay with her, he’d have to be strong to withstand her.
Was he?
She closed the remaining gap between them, wrapped her arms around his neck, and tested him with a real kiss.
He didn’t miss a beat. His fingers tangled in her ponytail, holding her firm. He slanted his mouth and
took
her—lips, a little tongue, and a lot of heat.
A shiver of pleasure ran up her spine, and she hummed as she tried to get closer.
Somewhere, music began to play. She could feel her heart beating in time with the bass. She distantly realized that the lingerie show had started, but she really didn’t care.
Reluctantly he lifted his head, his gaze searching hers. “I need to pay attention to the show.”
She nodded, more interested in the huskiness of his voice and the evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh than any lingerie. “Okay.”
The corner of his mouth hitched. “Do you want to know my name?”
“Are we going to see each other again?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. His hand still in her hair, he rubbed the corner of her mouth. “Scott Wright.”
“Nice to meet you, Scott.” She studied him. “Are you a serial killer?”
A glimmer of humor lit his eyes. “No.”
“A polygamist?”
“Do I look like I have multiple wives?”
“No, but you also don’t look like you’d walk up to a random stranger and kiss the bejesus out of her.”
“I’ve never done that, and you’re not random.” He caressed the side of her face, as if memorizing her face. Then he lowered his lips to hers again.
Just like the first time, the kiss curled her toes. It fizzed all the way down her spine, out her limbs, and back. She’d never been kissed like this—wholehearted and without reservation. Unapologetically. Confidently.
She heard clapping. For a second she thought it was for them, but then she remembered what was going on. “We’re in the middle of a lingerie show,” she said against his lips.
“It’s fitting since I want to take yours off.”
She felt a tremor of excitement deep in her belly. Sign her up for
that
. “Probably not best to do it in front of all these people.”
“Probably not.” Putting space between them, he ran a hand down her back. “Think there’s a private space in the back?”
“They’re using it as a dressing room.”
“Damn.”
He sounded so regretful that she had to kiss him again. She poured a whole lot of desire into it. It surprised her how much there was because she had too much on her plate to date to deal with a man. The San Francisco Flower Competition was weeks away and she was going to win this year.
Plus, she didn’t know this man. At least she knew his name now.
Scott growled and caught her up closer. “We’re going to do this again, but somewhere private.”
“Okay.”
“Soon.”
She mentally ran through her workload. “How’s Monday?”
“Too far away.”
“It’s Friday today.”
“Like I said, too far away.” He stroked her hair. “But I’ll take what you give me. Do you have a card?”
With a little regret, she untangled herself from him and reached into her pocket. She always kept a few cards on her, the half-sized ones because women’s jean pockets were never functional.
He studied it and then slipped it into his inside coat pocket. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay.”
“See you Monday, Julie.” He kissed her again, slow and lingering, before he went to watch the show.
Maybe he’d come see her again after it was over. She could hope. She watched him take in the lingerie show. He watched with an intensity that had nothing to do with the scantily clad women. It almost seemed like he was more interested in how other people were reacting to Nicole’s lingerie line.
The show ended to explosive applause, but she missed it all. She couldn’t look away from Scott. She saw him go over to Nicole, hug her, and whisper something in her ear. Nicole clenched him tight, and then laughed happily as she let him go.
Did they know each other? Julie knew Nicole was in a relationship with Griffin Chase, the rock star. It was how she’d met the designer in the first place—he’d hired Julie to deliver flowers to Nicole every other day.
Crazy man. But he was a celebrity, and in her experience, all celebrities were wacky.
Scott said something more to Nicole and then left the café. Julie stared after him, disappointed that he didn’t come back to her. Which was also crazy, because she hadn’t known him half an hour ago.
“I saw you making out in the corner,” a sultry feminine voice said.
Talk about wacky celebrities… Julie didn’t have to look to know who it was. “Bite me.”
“It looks like he beat me to it.” Sophie Martineau laughed, low and husky, as she slipped her arm around Julie’s waist. “So?”
She knew what the actress was fishing for. She also knew she’d give in and tell her, but she didn’t have to make it easy. “So, what?”
“I’ve known you an eon—”
“A year and a half,” Julie corrected.
“Exactly, and in that time you’ve never been impulsive about anything, much less a man.”
Yeah, it was baffling. “I’m going through a phase.”
Sophie’s lips pursed in her world-famous pout. “Are you really going to hold out on your BFF?”
Somehow, impossibly, Hollywood’s hottest siren really
was
her BFF. As if life wasn’t quirky enough. “He asked me out.”
“Looks like he also checked your tonsils.” Sophie poked her. “Well? When are you going out with him?”
“You think I said yes?”
“Honey, you practically invited him to take your clothes off in front of all these people.”
Julie blushed. That was a little too close to the truth. “It’d be stupid to go out with him right now. I need to focus on my entry for the San Francisco Flower Competition if I’m going to win.”
“Forget the flower competition,” Sophie said.
“I can’t.” She’d lost five years running, each year to Dr. Hyacinth Gardner, poseur of the floral universe. This year she was going to kick Hyacinth’s ass and take home the trophy.
Sophie shook her head. “I didn’t ask you if you were stupid. I asked when you were going out with him.”
“Monday,” she mumbled.
“Then I’ll see you Sunday.”
“Why?”
“So I can make sure you dress properly for your date.”
She frowned down at her clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Sophie lifted her brow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
She and her friend were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Sophie always left home immaculately dressed but she had paparazzi following her all the time. Flowers didn’t care if Julie ponytailed her hair and wore jeans every day. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like torturing some poor Hollywood director or something?”
“Why, when I can torture you?” Sophie squeezed her shoulders. “See you Sunday. Try to remember to wash the dirt from your fingernails.”
Frowning, Julie lifted her hands to inspect them. “I don’t—”
Sophie chuckled as she sashayed back into the crowd.
“Damn it.” She couldn’t believe she fell for that. She glared at the woman as she slinked away. It was too bad she loved the actress, because it’d have been really satisfying to throw a vase of flowers at her head.
Chapter Two
Kelly “Bull” Torres stood at the edge of the café, arms crossed, head bopping to the music as he watched the women parade down the runway in Nicole’s creations. Grounds for Thought had pretty much been turned into a bordello for the lingerie show.
He’d met Nicole at his buddy Ethan’s wedding and taken an instant liking to her. She was cute, like a kid sister. Even though he had nothing to do with her lingerie line, he felt pride as the first model paraded the fancy underwear she’d designed. He admired entrepreneurial moxie, and Nicole had it in spades.
He did, too. He knew when people looked at him, they just saw a big bruiser who made a living beating other men to a pulp, but he’d been brought up in an entrepreneurial family. His grandfather had owned a number of successful bars, his dad started an automotive repair chain, and his brother was the taco truck king of the greater Northwest.
Now it was his turn.
The antsy feeling he’d carried with him lately flared, and he ruthlessly shut it down. He didn’t need to stress about things; everything would work out. He’d found a group to back his smoothie business, and they were taking it national. It was just a matter of nailing down the details and signing the paperwork. Any day now. He needed to be patient.
He hated being patient. Waiting was not in his skill set. He always knew what he wanted, and he wanted it
now
.
He was on the cusp. He’d begun transitioning out of mixed martial arts, and his smoothie line would be launched soon. He thought about the corset tucked away in the top drawer of his dresser. That red lace and silk was symbolic of this new chapter in his life, as well as a reminder that there was still one integral piece missing.
A woman.
Not just any woman. He wanted the one who’d fit the red corset he’d bought from Nicole last year.