Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (26 page)

Ari stares at me, wide-eyed. Her white-blond hair shimmers in a short, wispy cut that frames her heart-shaped face. A professional dancer, Ari has the slight build of a ballerina, but with more softness and curve.

I shake my head. “Not you, love. Come in. You’re about a half hour early, so I haven’t changed yet. Come in,” I say again when she pauses at the door. One of the ongoing problems with Ari is her hesitance. It’s taken me nearly six months to get her to this point. I’m going to kill Stephen for ruining it.

I check the text so I can read the whole thing.

Sry, dove, I’m sick. And u don’t want my snot ruining a sexy scene. Found a replacement, tho. Fin. Trust me, u will luv him. xoxo.

I receive a second text as I’m standing there.

Hi. It’s Fin. Stephen sent me. I’m here at the hotel. What room?

Un-fucking-believable. I text him the floor and say I’ll meet him. Then I return Stephen’s message:
you better die of this illness. Or I promise, you’ll wish you did.

“Ari, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable. Remember what we talked about. Deep breaths, center yourself—”

“Envision, and repeat mantra.” Ari’s light voice finishes for me. “I know.” She smiles, but the corners of her mouth flicker with nerves.

Inwardly, I sigh. Then I shower her with smiling confidence and step into the hallway, closing the door snugly.

When the elevator opens, another couple gets off, wheeling luggage behind them. The doors start to shut, but then a strong hand holds them open. The man that steps off is very tall, well over six feet, and when his aquamarine eyes meet mine, he grins.

“Lux, I take it?” His deep voice holds a heavy Scottish burr. He wears jeans and a nondescript black t-shirt under a black leather jacket, and if I weren’t so mad, I’d be swooning. Dear God. His shoulders and chest are broad, but not thick. He’s built more like a soccer player, with wavy auburn hair with hints of chestnut. He has a crooked smile, and when I stand there staring for a moment, I get a glimpse of perfectly straight teeth and a dimple.

Holy Christ. Stephen sent me an underwear model.

“I know you. You’re the guy from that ad. Th-the new Monsieur line. You’re on the goddamn billboard in Times Square in bikini briefs.” Monsieur is a male clothing boutique on Fashion Avenue; they’ve been making quite a stir with their advertising of everyday men—e.g. not celebrities or models, though you’d be hard-pressed to find one that isn’t ripped— wearing their new underwear line.

His cheeks blush, which on him, is highly attractive, and I get more of that uneven grin. “Aye, well, that might’ve been me.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Stephen said ye needed a bit of help tonight.”

And with that, I remember how pissed I am. “Stephen is a goddamn asshole. Do you even know what you’re doing here tonight? Did he give you the details?” If there is one thing I’m sensing, it’s a distinct lack of kink. Fin looks like he should have a blonde wife, 2.5 kids, and a house with a white picket fence.

“Well, he wasna very specific with details, but he did mention that ye needed a cock.” His eyes crinkle even more at his bald language, his face turning brighter pink. “Seein’ as which I have one of those, I should be able to help ye.” His brogue thickens with his embarrassment.

“Christ. I’m glad Stephen narrowed the whole evening down to a male organ.” I glare at Fin. “Men.” I turn and storm away, leaving Fin to follow. I feel like I have an enormous shadow behind me, and I realize I have to have this conversation away from the room’s door, or Ari will hear it. So I turn on my heel and confront him mid-hallway.

I crane my neck to make eye contact. “Never mind. Just go home. I’m canceling this nightmare before it gets out of hand.”

He lays a hand on my shoulder as I turn away, his heat searing my bare skin. “Wait, now. Look.” He drops his hand and stops a beat until I meet his gaze. “I ken I’m not the charmer Stephen is, but I ken a fair bit about what he does. I think I can handle it. And he mentioned that ye were a Dominatrix, and that ye’d be runnin’ things, so ye can just tell me what to do.” He bites the inside of his lip. “I’ll do it.”

The cheer in his eyes pisses me off. “This is a joke to you. You can barely keep from laughing.” I shake my head at him, my temper undoubtedly turning my own skin pink. “This is not funny. The woman on the other side of that door,” I point down the hallway, “is terrified of letting herself go. She has a hard time enjoying sex because of assholes who ridiculed and abused her rather than making her feel beautiful and aroused. I will be damned if I will let you anywhere near her. Not when you think this is some kind of goddamn joke. You are—”

“Lux, I’m sorry. I wasna laughing at ye or anything about this.” He steps closer, and I get a whiff of some kind of creamy, spicy cologne mixed with...him, probably. And it’s delicious. “But ye have a feather here,” his hand reaches towards my hair and plucks something from it. “And it wiggles, the angrier ye get.”

I glare at the offending feather and snatch it from him. It’s from one of the props I brought with me, and the delicate fringe crushes easily in my palm. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. If I cancel this, Ari will be heartbroken. I’ve fielded half a dozen texts from her already this week, thanking me for doing this and asking nervous questions. After six months of meeting with her, we’re finally at the point of fulfilling her deepest fantasy. And there are worse-looking men to have in your fantasy than this one.

“You cannot, I repeat,
cannot
fuck this up. You listen to me, you do exactly what I say, and you never step a toe out of line. Am I clear?” Even to my ears, I sound like a total ass, but surprisingly, Fin only nods.

“Aye.”

“You will call me Mistress Hathaway, as none of my clients know my real name.”

“Of course.”

“You’ll strip down to your underwear when we get inside, and you will not approach the bedroom or Ari until I say so. Got it?”

He nods, his face solemn, though I can still see the laughter in his eyes. “After ye, Mistress,” he says with a small bow.

Want more
Inside the Lines
?

Order it now!

The third book in the Without a Trace series,

available on Amazon and other retailers!

He’s everything I swore I didn’t want...

And he’s the one person who might set fire to my soul.

They say love doesn’t hurt.

But it’s a lie. I promise you, love someone long enough, and they’ll destroy your soul.

I’ve spent my life taking care of everyone else: my family, my ex-husband, my friends. Deep down, I know I should focus on myself, but how can I when I’ve got one sister about to implode while the other battles her own guilt?

The minute I met Kai Isaac, I should’ve run in the opposite direction. His business isn’t one I want any part of, and I’ve got way too much drama in my life already.

But his kiss...those eyes...the raging inferno he creates when he touches me...I can’t stay away. Life’s reeling out of control, and he’s my only refuge from the storm.

My sister Lux says trusting someone means not knowing everything about them and being okay with it...but what if not knowing the truth ruins everything?

Tracing the Lines
is Book Three in the Without a Trace series, and takes place after
Inside the Lines
.

Zi Trace has got problems of her own, and they all start with one man, the sexy film producer Kai Isaac.

Tracing the Lines

CHAPTER ONE

ONE KISS

L
ove doesn’t hurt.

That’s what they say. But it’s a lie. I promise you, love someone long enough, and they’ll destroy your soul.

I should know: with a little sister who’s determined to self-destruct any day and an ex who cared more about his own needs than anyone else around him, I’m kind of over the whole “true love” bullshit perpetuated in chick flicks.

But I can’t help wishing for something more, something that wouldn’t require payment with a broken heart and tears. Does such a thing exist? I’ve no idea as I’ve yet to find it…and I’m not holding my breath.

“Wait—what am I doing?”

Lux shoves me through the glass door. “You’re helping out a friend.”

“But you said they’re making a movie or something. I thought I was just here to tag along.” We’re in a lobby with quirky, colorful chairs and framed movie posters on the wall. I’ve never seen any of these films, however, and I stop our forward momentum and stare at my sister.

“Lux, what is this, exactly?”

Her gray eyes meet mine, looking entirely too innocent—and if you know my sister, she’s anything but. “It’s a favor for a friend. I had someone else lined up, and she got sick.”

“So what am I doing then?” Lux talked me into joining her this morning because she said I’d get to see a live film set, which sounded appealing. It’s not like I have many days off to spend with my sister, so I thought this would be a good time to enjoy her company.

I’m starting to have my doubts.

She grabs my shoulders. “Trust me—this will be fun.”

But her amused gaze doesn’t spark confidence, and I trudge beside her, suspicious. While my sister might like to pretend she’s now a staid businesswoman, I know the truth: she used to be a Dominatrix, and her risk-taking side is much more developed than mine. Of course, today we’re both clean-faced and in jeans and sneakers, our hair—hers black as night and mine blonde—pulled into ponytails, so no one would guess we both have our business acumen firmly planted in sexy industries. Well, sort of. Lux now runs an online dating site named Kinked, and I own what I like to call a “sensual pleasures” shop, mostly focused on lingerie and bra fittings…but the backroom offers a variety of, well, sex toys.

“Who’s friend are we doing this favor for?”

She sighs and adjusts the strap of her pink tank top. “You know how Noah’s friends with all these film people now? It’s one of his buddy’s friends.”

“Hold on—we’re doing a favor for someone Noah doesn’t even know?” Noah is Lux’s best friend, and he’s an actor. And a business owner, come to think of it.

“Not exactly. I mean, he’s met the guy. I think.”

We’re walking way too fast down a hallway towards something I have way too little details about. “Lux, what are you not telling me?”

She’s saved from answering when a young couple, probably in their early twenties, exits a door just ahead of us. They’re both smiling, looking at each other the way new lovers do, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

Before I can make my sister answer my question, she opens the door the two exited and ushers me inside.

It’s definitely a film set. There’s a screen against one wall around which cameras, poles with lights, and several people cluster. The rest of the room lies in shadow, in which Lux and I are standing.

“Answer my—”

“Lux! How are you?” A tall, thin guy pulls Lux into a hug.

She embraces him back with a huge smile. “Ger! Awesome to see you.” When she pulls back, she introduces us. “Ger is the director on this film. Ger, this is my sister Zi, and she’s here to fill in for Fiona.”