I've Been an Awful Good Girl Read online

  I’ve Been an Awful Good Girl

  By

  Cheryl Gorman

  Copyright © 2012 Cheryl Gorman

  Cover Art by Rae Monet Designs http://www.raemonet.com

  All rights reserved. This e-book is not transferable. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form including but not limited to printing, faxing, e-mailing, photocopying or by any manner of information retrieval through electronic means or through the postal service without the express permission of the publisher. This e-book is a work of fiction and a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person or persons living or dead, places, incidents, locations or businesses is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  “Oh, what a lovely Christmas basket,” Mrs. March said, her light blue eyes sparkling with holiday cheer. “You’re an awful good girl, Emma.”

  Damn it. Another good girl comment. Emma Baker wanted to scream at the top of her lungs until the sound shook the small plastic holiday wreath from Mrs. March’s front door. Instead, she smiled at the older, widowed woman who had only her social security and her husband’s pension from the police department to live on. Emma had been delivering Christmas baskets with a healthy dose of ho-ho-ho and jingle bells to needy families and the elderly, every year for the Charity of Hope, since she was in grade school. She was an attorney now in a small but busy Denver law firm in which she handled mostly pro-bono cases, but she couldn’t give up this holiday tradition. “You’re welcome, Mrs. March. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas to you too.”

  Shivering in the bitter wind, Emma briskly walked down the frosty sidewalk, her suede boots crunching in the snow, to her mid-sized car parked at the curb. She slid into the warm interior and sighed with relief to be out of the cold, but the irritation at being called a good girl still nettled. “Mrs. March called me a good girl. She’s the fifth person today.” She yanked off her red mittens with holly leaves knitted into the design and stuffed them into the pocket of her coat. “I’m sick of people saying what an awful good girl I am,” she said to her best friend, Tiffany Walters who had offered to drive her to make her deliveries.

  Tiffany laughed and pulled out onto the street. “Then let out your sexy side. I know it’s hiding behind that wholesome exterior somewhere.”

  A spurt of excitement darted through Emma’s stomach and she straightened in her seat. “You’re right. Geeze Louise. It’s past time I stripped away my good girl image and shook my booty.”

  Tiffany slapped a hand against the steering wheel. “Thank God. I’ve been waiting for years to hear you say that.”

  Emma laughed. “And this from a former Miss Colorado who runs a charm school?”

  Tiffany gave her head a cocky shake. “Just because I run a charm school doesn’t mean I don’t have a sexy side. I like sex just as much as the next girl.”

  Emma adjusted her Santa hat and checked her Merry Christmas pin to make sure it was still flashing red and green. “Don’t let your darling students’ mothers hear you say that.”

  Tiffany giggled. “Don’t worry. They think I’m the reincarnation of Mother Theresa. So where and when are you going to let loose your inner temptress and vagenda?”

  Emma laughed. “I have just the venue.” She rummaged through her purse, withdrew a red and gold invitation and waved it through the air. “The Cranford’s annual masquerade Christmas party. Everybody will be in disguise which is perfect. I can be a total slut girl and no one will ever know it’s me.” She turned in her seat and faced her friend. “But I’ll need your help with the costume and my makeup.” She lifted a lock of her wavy, out-of-control hair. “Not to mention my hair.”

  Tiffany wiggled her fingers against the steering wheel and cackled. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  Emma settled back in her seat with a sigh of satisfaction. “The guy, whoever he is, won’t know what hit him.”

  * * *

  A strong male hand gripped his right shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re back, son.”

  Cameron Fletcher gave his father a smile and hammered another nail into a two by six. “Glad to be home, Pop.”

  “Your mother worried herself to death while you were over there. She was on her knees praying every day for your safety.”

  Hell. His freaking safety. Her prayers worked because he came back after two tours in Iraq without one scratch. While he dodged bullets like Superman, a lot of his platoon were wounded or killed by enemy forces and road side bombs. Guilt weighed down on him like the pack he used to carry in country. He’d come back looking pretty much the same as when he left with the exception of losing a few pounds. Sometimes he wished he could have traded places with any of his men to make sure they returned to their families instead of him. So many men with wives and children were killed on the battle field and wouldn’t be coming home.

  Since returning to Colorado a couple of weeks ago, he’d gone to work for his father’s construction company and had been trying to adjust to civilian life. He inhaled a breath of frosty, pine-scented air into his lungs. He stood in what would eventually be a family room with a stone fireplace and a large bay window. The new housing development in the growing suburb of Highlands Ranch wouldn’t be completed for another six to eight months, and he was thankful for the work.

  “Hey, Cam,” one of the workers said. “My sister has a friend if you’re looking to hook up.”

  He considered the man’s offer for about a half a second before he remembered the last time he’d gone on a blind date. It had been a disaster. “Thanks, Frank, but I’ll pass.”

  “Okay, suit yourself.”

  Sweet Jesus, he would like nothing better than to wrap his arms around a soft, willing woman. His only companions for months had been fellow soldiers and granted a few of them had been women, but those women were strictly off limits. Officers never got involved with enlisted personnel. When and where he chose to get up close and personal with a woman, would be his decision.

  At five o’clock they knocked off work and everybody headed home. Soon he was tucked into one of his mother’s home-cooked meals in her kitchen. He dug into the mashed potatoes and pot roast, relishing the savory flavors melting on his tongue. “Delicious, Mom. Thanks.”

  His mother beamed. “My pleasure. It’s nice to be cooking for you again.”

  “And it’s real nice to see you sitting at this table again,” his father added.

  Reaching across the small kitchen table, his mother squeezed Cam’s hand as her gray eyes filled with tears. “I missed you so much,” she said in a broken whisper.

  “I know, Mom. I missed you too. But please, don’t cry again, okay?”

  She threw him a watery smile and dotted her eyes with her napkin. “I won’t, I promise.”

  His father rubbed a hand on his mother’s arm. “There now, darling, the boy’s home safe and sound.”

  Safe and sound while a lot of his platoon members came home without an arm or a leg. The food suddenly stuck in his throat. After wiping his mouth, he laid the napkin on the table and started rising from his chair.

  “Don’t tell me you’re full already,” his mother said. “You haven’t eaten very much since you got home. Are you sure you aren’t taking sick?”

  Cam patted his stomach. “I feel fine. Lost some pounds over there so my stomach has shrunk that’s all.”

  “I bet you aren’t too full for a slice of chocolate cake. Your favorite.”

  If he refused it would hurt her feelings because he knew she’d baked it especially for him. He smiled. “Bring it on.”

  Even though the cake didn’t go down well, he’d scraped the last bit of chocolate icing from his plate to please hi
s mother. Then he helped clean the kitchen. Later, his mother settled on the sofa next to his father in the family room and picked up her knitting. Cam stretched out in the recliner and tried to figure a good way to tell his mother he was moving into his own place. Just go ahead and say it straight out. “I signed a lease on an apartment here in town.”

  His mother lowered her knitting to her lap with disappointment filling her eyes. “You’re moving out? Already? I was hoping you’d at least stay with us a few more months.”

  “He’s a grown man, Ellie and he’s not moving to the moon. He’ll still be in town,” his father said.

  She frowned. “I know but he won’t be under this roof.”

  “I’ll be by here a lot, Mom, I promise.”

  She picked up her knitting. “Yes, but it won’t be the same. By the way, we got an invitation to the Cranford’s Christmas masquerade party next Saturday. Your father and I don’t feel like going, but it would do you a lot of good to get out.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Just what he needed, a masquerade party where he could meet a woman for a little uncomplicated, no-strings-attached sex to help him shake off the memories of the war. At least for one night.

  Chapter Two

  Emma scanned the huge, living room of the Cranford’s mansion, decorated from floor to rafters with holiday greenery and decorations, looking for the man she planned to seduce. George and Martha Washington were chatting with Batman and Lady Gaga by the grand piano while Snow White swayed to The Christmas Song played by a string quartet, with one hand resting on Superman’s shoulder. Queen Elizabeth helped herself to a tray of stuffed mushrooms. Sipping from a glass of red wine, Marilyn Monroe gazed adoringly into the eyes of Zorro.

  “See him yet?” Tiffany asked standing next to her.

  She turned to her friend decked out as Marie Antoinette, complete with a huge blonde wig and sparkling costume jewelry. “No, but the evening is still young.”

  “While you’re waiting for Mr. Ready-to-be-Seduced, I’m going to go flirt with King Arthur.”

  Tiffany disappeared into the crowd. Tipping her champagne glass for another sip, her gaze swept the room and landed on a tall, dark and very hot pirate standing by the fireplace with a black mask covering three-quarters of his face and a sword hanging at his side. Black boots and tight fitting breeches along with a tri-cornered hat completed his outfit. He had one arm propped on the mantle while the other held a beer. The man’s brilliant blue gaze skewered her to the spot along with a bedroom smile curving a pair of sensual lips. There was something oddly familiar about him. Had she seen that smile or that particular stance before? Or was it the way he held his beer between his index and third finger? She shrugged it off. Probably just a guy thing she’d seen a thousand times before. Whatever. This masked man was her sexual target for the evening. With her heart dancing the shim-sham-shimmy, she walked slowly toward the pirate. His gaze swept her bosom amply displayed with the help of a push-up bra. She hoped the rest of her genie outfit screamed take-me-now. “I came over to grant you three wishes.”

  He took a sip of beer and licked his lips. “What kind of wishes?”

  Emma lowered her chin and gave him what she hoped was a sultry look. She’d practiced for hours in front of a mirror. “Anything you want.” A blush burned over her skin. Sweet Mary. Did she just say that?

  The pirate set his empty bottle on a passing waiter’s tray and took her hand. “My first wish is that you come with me.”

  Aye, matey. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  She slipped her hand into his, touching off an avalanche of desire that nailed him in the crotch. He wanted to fan that heat to a freaking inferno. Her damned perfume circling his head didn’t help. It made him want to start licking at her toes and work his way up. Every room he passed, the door was closed. Jesus Lord he needed to get his hands and lips on her soon. His male hormones were on high alert, clanging with all bells, urging him to satisfy the sexual need he’d suppressed for the last several months. Ahead, a door stood open. Thank God. He quickly scanned the room to make sure it was unoccupied, pulled her inside and shut the door.

  Two lamps burned on side tables and a gas fireplace flickered at one end. Bookcases soared almost to the high ceiling. The room was quiet except for the light fluttering noise from the hearth. The woman standing before him was straight up sexy. Her top gave him a nice view of her breasts and the sheer pants of the lower half of her costume showed off a great pair of toned legs. He breathed in the sultry scent of her and gazed into her green eyes gleaming with temptation. Her lace and leather mask shimmered in the light. Firelight flickered over her face and her lips were glossed, parted slightly so he could see the tip of her tongue. Where did she get that costume? Hot damn. He wanted to start with her mouth and work his way down to that soft, wet spot of paradise waiting for him between her legs.

  With his hand still holding hers, he turned off the lamps then found the switch for the fireplace and lowered the flame. He stood before her. “I’m ready for my second wish now.”

  She gave him a small smile. “Your wish is my command.”

  “I want a kiss. A slow, wet kiss.”

  Stepping in close, she laid her hands on either side of his face, nibbling at his lips until lust arrowed from his gut to his groin. A massive hard-on sprang to attention in his tight pants. Deepening the kiss, she sucked his lips into her mouth, gently at first then followed the movement with a nip from her teeth and a teasing slide of her tongue. All the while she stared directly into his eyes, her gaze never faltering. She thrust her tongue between his lips and tangled with his as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts against his chest and her crotch next to his. Sweet mother of God, the woman made him burn. Another minute and his skin would smoke.

  He grasped her head, sinking further into a savage mating of lips and tongue. She moaned and the sound shot through his veins like summer lightning. He wrapped his hands around her waist, slid his palm inside her costume and caressed her ass, her skin like silk over his callused palms. With one final stroke of his tongue, he went to work on her neck. She leaned her head to the side to give him better access, her lips parted. He kissed his way over her neck, letting the warm, cinnamon taste of her coat his tongue. Someone else he used to know tasted like cinnamon, but the memory eluded him no matter how hard he tried to bring it into focus. He nudged aside a wavy lock of blonde shoulder length hair, sucked her ear lobe between his lips then started to plant a kiss beneath her left ear. He blinked and focused on a tiny birthmark in the shape of a butterfly. Shock ripped through his stomach like a piece of shrapnel.

  She couldn’t be.

  No freaking way. Not Emma!

  Suddenly, feeling as though he were deflowering a virgin, he removed his hands, stepped back and stared at her.

  “What’s wrong? I did shower before I came.” Her eyes were sleepy with arousal, her lips swollen from his kisses and tipped at the corners in amusement. He reached behind her head to untie her mask and she swatted his hand away. “No, this is a masquerade party and our identities are supposed to be a secret.”

  “Fine, I’ll go first.” He took off his mask and glared at her.

  Her mouth popped open and her eyes widened. “Cameron Fletcher?”

  Chapter Three

  “How are you, Emma?”

  “I—I’m good. How did you know it was me?”

  She was good all right. There was only one problem. She was his best friend’s little sister who he hadn’t laid eyes on in ten years. He and Ryan had gotten together as soon as he arrived home, but the last time he’d seen her, she’d been sweet sixteen and beginning to blossom into a woman, a woman he’d had the hots for but didn’t dare touch. Now here she was a beautiful woman, sexy as all hell and ready to give herself to him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I think that should be obvious. But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  “How did you
know it was me?”

  The woman looked like an annoyed sexy, genie with her arms folded over her chest. The position of her arms caused her breasts to strain against the confines of her costume giving him an eye-full of her delectable breasts. “The birthmark beneath your ear.”

  She lifted a hand and lightly touched it. “It’s lightened over the years. I didn’t realize you’d seen it before.”

  He’d seen it the day he’d left to join the army. He’d dropped by Ryan’s house to tell him and his family goodbye. He’d hugged everybody including Emma. But the only person he’d kissed was Emma. More like he’d tried to swallow her whole. She’d kissed him right back making him crave the taste of cinnamon ever since, then slowly pulled away, tucking her hair behind her ear revealing the birthmark. No way he could he have missed it. “Yeah, I’ve seen it.” He cocked his head to the side as a disturbing thought entered his mind. “Did you know it was me?”

  “No, of course not. I was just—I mean I wanted to—what I’m trying to say is that we’re both consenting adults —” she glanced at his crotch and smiled,—“if what’s happening down there is any indication.”

  Irritation crawled through his belly and heat climbed his neck. “That’s not funny, Emma. I’ve known you practically my whole life, for God’s sake. Do you try to seduce every guy you meet at a party?” He hoped to hell not.

  She raised her chin, her eyes full of fire. “First, that’s none of your business and second why should you care who I seduce or don’t seduce?”

  She hit the nail on the proverbial head. He cared. Curse him to hell, he cared. Too damn much. “I don’t, unless it happens to be me and the thought of seducing my best friend’s sister at a party turns my stomach.”

  Her smile disappeared. “Gee, thanks for making me feel like shit.”

  “You know what I mean.” He waved a hand toward her costume. “What man wouldn’t want to wrap his body parts around a half-naked woman for some no-strings sex?”