Under the Covers

Under The Covers

by

Rita Herron

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2002, 2011 by Rita Herron

Formerly published by: Dorchester Publishing/Lovespell, June 2002

Cover and eBook design by eBook Prep
www.ebookprep.com

Thank You
.

To Kate:

A great editor and friend;

thanks for everything

Chapter 1

The Faker

"No more faking orgasms, ladies and gentlemen," the newscaster's voice boomed from the television. "Not if you and your partner take advice from leading sex therapist Dr. Abigail Jensen in her new sex manual,
Under the Covers.
Just let me read you a short excerpt."

"It's not a sex guide and I'm not a sex therapist!" Abby waved a hand toward the announcer. "The book is for marriage therapy!"

Abby's twenty-one-year-old sister Chelsea rubbed her hands together in gleeful anticipation and plopped down on the sofa. "I can't wait to hear this."

"Dr. Jensen gives this advice in her chapter on erotic foreplay: Slowly massage his inner thigh with your finger. Trace a long, sensual path from the curve of his toe up his calf, then circle around to tease the thick muscle—"

Abby pressed her hands over her ears, her face burning as the reporter quoted several more passages out of context. "With chapter titles like 'The Orgasmic Kiss,' 'Fantastic Fantasies,' 'Most Passionate Positions,' and 'Naughty Seduction Games,' it's no wonder this book is flying off the shelves," the young newscaster continued. "In addition, this commercial has been running during daytime soap operas."

The picture changed to show a scantily clad, voluptuous redhead reclining on a bed of satin sheets with a copy of Abby's book resting between her parted knees. A brawny man with jet-black hair dressed in red silk boxers kissed his way from the woman's toes up to her knees, where he knocked the book aside with his head before engulfing the woman in a steamy kiss. Dubbed-in oohs and aahs echoed around the rocking couple.

"Oh, my God," Abby whispered.

Chelsea flicked up the volume on the remote, her charm bracelet jingling. "Cool, Mom's new boyfriend really came through for you with that ad, sis."

Yeah, it was a little over the top, just like her mother.

"With each purchase of
Under the
Covers
, customers receive a free set of satin pillowcases to stimulate their own sensual pillow talk," the announcer explained. "And it certainly looks like Dr. Jensen's suggestions are working for this couple. They're hotter than the record temperatures outside."

"Man, I have to find out how to do that orgasmic kiss thing, Ab. Can I take a copy of the book home tonight?"

Abby rolled her eyes, grabbed a miniature Reese's peanut butter cup from the bag, and popped it into her mouth. The last thing her little sister needed was advice on sex; words of wisdom regarding a lasting relationship would be more pertinent.

Under the Covers
had been out only two days, and Abby was grateful that it was selling. She hoped that couples would benefit from her years of experience as a marriage counselor, and the extra money she would earn from book sales couldn't hurt. She seemed to have an inordinate number of needy relatives who often turned to her for "loans."

But she hated the media attention. Reporters were always looking for the most scandalous, juiciest story, and they would exaggerate, embellish, even lie in their quest for sensational headlines. She'd learned that painful reality as a child. She grabbed another candy and devoured it—the chocolate treat was both her nemesis and her salvation. "You don't need to read my work. You're not married."

"You mean it's only for
married
couples?"

"Well, no, not exactly. It's supposed to help all couples improve intimacy in their relationships." Abby paced in front of the bay window, feeling exposed after the latest spotlight on her book, and even more so when she realized anyone on the street could see through her front window. She added curtains to the list of items she had to pick up for her new house.

"Then give me a copy, Abby. I have a new boyfriend."

Abby groaned in disbelief.
"Boyfriend?
You never see a guy more than twice."

Chelsea scratched her blond head in thought. "I went out with that carpenter three times."

"Great."

"Nah, he was kind of boring. But he did have a big tool—"

"Chelsea," Abby warned.

"...belt." Chelsea's green eyes twinkled. "Especially his hammer."

Abby threw up her hands. "You are incorrigible!"

Chelsea reached for the blender. "And you're awfully uptight for someone who wrote a sex guide."

"It is not a sex guide." Abby stopped abruptly, nearly tripping over the cluster of boxes in the corner. What in the world was she going to do with her baby sister?

Even worse, what if the press discovered the truth: that she'd been following her own advice and it hadn't been working? That she had faked a few orgasms herself?