Flirting with Trouble Sneak Peek

Forgetting playboy Wells Silver was supposed to be easy. If only he didn’t make it impossible. Funny, sexy, emotional standalone romance novel.

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Wells

“I know I’m looking for a needle in a haystack, but the right vibe is everything. Rock Bottom is the hottest bar and grill on Silver Island, and I don’t want to settle for anything less for my flagship restaurant here,” I say to Kent Pyle, the real estate agent who has spent the last few hours showing me properties in New York City.

“I appreciate that. Finding the right location is a process. I think you’ll like the properties we have lined up for tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.”

We shake hands, and as Kent heads out to a waiting car, I step onto the busy sidewalk feeling like I’m stepping into a cattle chute. The hustle and bustle of the Big Apple, with its bright lights and skyscrapers, is a far cry from the quaint island towns where I grew up off the coast of Cape Cod. Tourist season on Silver Island is chaotic, but it’s nothing like this, and the heat here is oppressive. If I were back home, I’d be heading to the beach right now with my surfboard to catch some waves. In lieu of that, I’ll take a cold drink, a few laughs, and maybe a willing woman to take the edge off.

It’s been too long since I scratched that particular itch.

My cell rings, and my older brother Fitz’s name flashes on the screen. I can barely hear myself think past the traffic noise and the din of the fast-moving crowd as I put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Fitz. What’s up?”

“How’d it go? See anything promising?”

“No. They were all run-of-the-mill.”

“What did you expect? It’s the Big Apple. The goal is to squeeze as many people as possible into cracker-box-size rooms and charge astronomical prices.”

No shit. I want the challenge of making a restaurant stand out among hundreds of others, and money is not a problem. Our ancestors discovered Silver Island, and our family owns the largest resort there, the Silver House, which Fitz runs with our parents. We have family money. Boatloads of it. But while Fitz followed in our parents’ footsteps, my three other siblings and I have blazed our own paths and have barely touched our trust funds to do so.

“You’ve got to pay to play, and if I can make it here, I can make it anywhere,” I say, stepping around a couple as I cross the street.

“If anyone can do it, you can. Fair warning, Mom met with Charmaine this afternoon.”

Charmaine Luxe is a real estate agent on the island. As much as my mother supports all of us following our dreams, I know she’d rather I open another restaurant on the island. I think she’s afraid I’ll move away for good, though I haven’t made that decision yet. I love my family and my life on the island, but lately I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more out there for me. My restaurant is doing phenomenally well, and I hired an excellent manager who has spent the last year proving to be efficient and capable. With Meghan Young at the helm, I finally feel comfortable spending more time off-site and expanding my business.

“Thanks for the warning. You should come out here with me sometime. I think you’d like the city.” Fitz rarely leaves the island. None of us do. That’s part of my problem. I’m not just feeling stifled professionally. I’m also feeling it personally. I’m not into long-term relationships, but the island is close-knit, and gossip spreads faster than weeds. Hooking up with tourists isn’t as thrilling as it was when I was in my twenties, and I’m well past wanting to be the talk of the town.

“No thanks,” Fitz says. “City life isn’t for me. Where’re you heading now?”

“Hopefully into a bar. Maybe I’ll find a hot city girl who wants to have a good time.”

Fitz laughs. “Good luck with that.”

“I don’t need luck.” I slow my pace to glance through the window of a bar and stop in my tracks, my attention locking on Victoria—Victory—Braden, the wild-haired brunette beauty I met over the holidays on the island, when my friend Sutton Steele got engaged to Victory’s brother Flynn.

“Hey!” a guy complains as he bumps into my shoulder.

“Sorry.” I step aside, my gaze still trained on Victory, who is sitting at the bar staring into her drink.

“What’d you do, Wells?” Fitz asks with amusement.

I all but forgot I was on the phone. “I just found exactly what I’m looking for.”

“A place for the restaurant?”

“No. Victory Braden sitting alone at a bar, like a gift waiting to be opened.”

“Dude, she’s blown you off every time you’ve hit on her, and don’t you have a meeting with her brother Seth tomorrow?”

Seth Braden lives in the city and owns a major retail conglomerate as well as several restaurants and nightclubs. We got to talking at Sutton and Flynn’s wedding, and when I told him I was looking to open a restaurant here, he said he’d be happy to let me pick his brain about the differences between operating a business in a small town versus a big city.

“Yes, I do, but that is business, and she is pleasure. I’ll catch up with you when I get back.” I pocket my phone and head into the bar.

Met with the pulse of music and the din of the happy-hour crowd, I make a beeline to Victory, remembering the way the air had sizzled between us when I saw her a few weeks ago at Sutton and Flynn’s wedding. She pretended the attraction was one-sided, but the lust in her eyes betrayed her words. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since. She’s a rarity, as elegant as she is brilliant, and as the president of Blank Space Entertainment, she has a reputation for being a ruthless businesswoman. The kind that mesmerizes you with her striking blue eyes and radiant smile as she cuts you to pieces.

I fucking love that.

“This must be my lucky day,” I say as I sit on the stool beside her.

She turns with a serious expression, but those plump lips I’ve thought about far too many times curve into a taunting grin. Her hair is styled sleeker than it was on the island, bringing out streaks of gold in the tamer waves. “Wells. What brings you into the city? Have you worked your way through all the island girls? Meeting your latest swipe date?”

Damn, I love her snark. “I don’t play the swipe game.”

“No?” She arches a perfectly manicured brow. “Did they add a one-click bulk-match option on those dating apps?”

I laugh. “Can I buy you a drink, or”—I drag my gaze down her body, admiring the way her sleeveless designer dress hugs her curves, exposing just enough thigh to whet my appetite; she is stunning—“are you waiting on a date?”

“My dates just left, so I’ll happily take another whiskey, thank you.”

Whiskey? That’s hot. I flag down the bartender. “Dates? As in more than one?” A slow grin tugs at my lips as that imagery takes hold. “No wonder they call you Victory.”

She gives me the look she gave me on the island. The one that says she’s enjoying our banter but trying to act annoyed. “In your fantasies, maybe.”

“Maybe my ass. That image has already taken root and moved to the top of my fantasy list. Like I said, it’s my lucky day.” That earns a soft laugh and a shake of her head as the bartender arrives to take our order.

Victory taps her fingernail against her glass, watching me talk with the bartender as he fills our orders. There’s no missing the spark of interest in her eyes. For me, not the bartender.

When the bartender walks away, Victory cocks her head and says, “Why are you really in the city?”

I can’t resist fucking with her. “I felt your energy calling me across the ocean, so I caught the first ferry out. I booked a hotel room around the corner, and here I am. At your service.”

She deadpans.

“What can I say? A woman like you leaves an indelible mark.”

“Because I turned you down for a night of hot sex at my brother’s wedding?”

“Yes. It was a first, and it stung.” I put my hand over my heart. “Like it or not, we’re now connected forever.”

She smiles. “Wells Silver, you are too much.”

“I hear that a lot. Is that why you turned me down?” I lean in, palming her hip as I swivel her stool so she’s facing me, and lower my voice seductively. “Don’t be nervous, gorgeous. We can take it slow. Ease into it until we find our rhythm.” Her eyes flame, spurring me on. “I guarantee I’ll hit the spot so many times, you’ll forget your own name.”

Our gazes hold, her eyes darkening. I’m tempted to lean in and show her what she’s missing.

She smirks. “Why do guys overestimate their skills in the bedroom? Is it a size thing? Are you lacking in that department?”

I scoff. “Hardly. You must be dating the wrong guys.”

Her smirk falters, and she sits back, sipping her whiskey. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me why you’re really in the city.”

I have a feeling I hit a nerve, but I let it go for now. “I don’t mind telling you. I’m here looking for property to open another restaurant.”

Her eyes light up. “You own a restaurant?”

“Are you messing with me, or did I really pass right under your radar?” Shit. Is it possible I’m reading her wrong? I can’t be that far off my game.

“Not under it. I mean, I’d have to be blind not to notice your movie-star good looks.” She motions toward my face. “With that thick dark hair, sexy scruff, and chiseled jaw, you look like you could be one of the actors we rep.”

I grin. “I knew you were into me.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Silver. I might’ve found you attractive when we met, but then you opened your mouth and rang the player bell, and nothing else computed.”

Why do I find her challenges so sexy? “Damn. I don’t usually have to say shit like this, but I’m kind of a big deal on the island.”

A playful glint shimmers in her eyes. “Because you were born with a Silver spoon in your mouth?”

“No.” I’ve worked hard to shake that assumption. “Because I’m a great guy, and it doesn’t hurt that I own Rock Bottom Bar and Grill.”

“That is impressive, and I liked that place. It was the in spot.” She takes another drink.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. What did you like?” I nudge her with my knee. “The owner?”

“The food.”

“Well, that’s something. To the food.” I lift my glass, and she joins me in a toast. “A’right, beautiful, you got the truth out of me. Now it’s my turn. Your friends left after you had dinner, and you stuck around hoping I’d come by, right?”

Her eyes dance with amusement. “More like, to drown my sorrows.”

“Your sorrows? Those words should never come out of your gorgeous mouth. Did you lose a big business deal?”

“Ha! You clearly don’t know me. I never lose business deals, big or small.” She runs her finger around the rim of her glass, her expression turning contemplative. Those pretty eyes flick to mine. “Today is the anniversary of the day I met my late husband, Harvey.”

My chest constricts. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Vic.” I knew she was a widow and had lost her husband a while back. “That’s got to be rough.”

“It is what it is.”

I lift my glass. “To Harvey. He must’ve been a hell of a guy to have won your heart.”

“He was.” She taps her glass to mine, smiling again. “To Harvey.”

We drink, and then I ask, “Do you want to talk about him?”

“Thanks, but no,” she says emphatically. “He’s been gone for several years, and I’ve had enough alcohol that I’m not overthinking it. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Okay, Harvey is off the table.” I sweep my arm between us like I’m pushing Harvey away and go for a smile, waggling my brows. “How about me? Am I on the table?”

An almost-silent laugh tumbles out, and she takes another drink. “You do make me laugh.”

“That means I have a shot. Who’s my competition? The friends you had dinner with?”

“No, but you have dated one of them,” she taunts.

“At least I know they’re female.”

“I had dinner with Leni and Shea. They plied me with alcohol and upbeat conversation, as good friends should.”

Leni was Sutton’s sister. She worked for their cousin Shea Steele at her PR firm. Shea didn’t grow up on the island with us, but Leni and I dated in high school, and it didn’t end well. We remained friends, despite Leni carrying a chip on her shoulder toward me, which I fully deserved. We finally talked about what had happened a year and a half ago and smoothed things over, but I’m curious about what she’s told Victory.

“Leni, huh? Did she sing my praises?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but she thinks you’re a good guy. Even if you’re a shameless flirt who will probably never settle down.”

Thank you, Leni. “She knows me well and she loves me. You will, too, one day.” I lift my chin. “You can’t resist this face forever.”

“It’s a wonder I’ve lasted this long.”

“It is a little shocking, but hey, it’s the thrill of the chase, right?”

“The chase,” she says longingly, and gazes absently over my shoulder as if she’s watching a scene play out. She picks up her glass and swirls it, watching the alcohol slosh over the ice. “I was the one who chased Harvey.”

“He’s a lucky man. I like a woman who goes after what she wants. To the thrill of the chase.”

We toast, and then her attention returns to her glass as she sets it on the bar and wraps both hands around it, her fingers tapping to the beat of the music. “I haven’t been chased in so long, I can’t even remember what it feels like,” she confesses.

“Come on. You’re joking, right? A smart, attractive woman like you must have guys lining up to take you out. You can level with me,” I say coaxingly. “Are you swiping the right way on the apps? Do you need a tutorial?”

She winces, and when her eyes find mine, they’re daring and slightly cautious. That hint of vulnerability in this fierce lioness is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “Actually, I haven’t gone there yet.”

“I don’t blame you. Dating apps have their purpose, but they pretty much suck. You probably don’t need those apps anyway. You must meet plenty of guys in your line of work.”

“I do. I meant I haven’t dated since I lost Harvey.”

My thoughts stumble. “At all?”

“Other than my standing solo date at our favorite restaurant every Friday night?” She shakes her head. “I married the love of my life. I’m not looking for a replacement.”

“Who said anything about getting married? We’re talking about dating, going out, and having fun with a guy. You said it’s been several years. Did you mean like two?”

“No.” She leans forward and whispers, “It’s been five.”

“Five years?”

“Don’t say it like that.” She smacks my chest, laughing.

I catch her wrist, noticing a small pink butterfly just below her palm. “Sorry, but this is a tragedy. Don’t you miss human touch?” I place her hand on my cheek and slowly move it along my jaw and across my chin. When her fingertips graze my lips, she breathes harder. “Touching a man?” I run her fingers down my neck and over my pecs. “Feeling a strong body against yours?” I press a kiss to the back of her hand. “Warm lips on your skin?” Lust shimmers in her eyes. I lean in and brush my scruff along her cheek, speaking low, into her ear. “The scratch of a man’s scruff on your thighs?”

As I sit back, she drags her teeth over her bottom lip, but as if she’s caught herself tempted by me, she tugs her hand free and reaches for her glass. “I need more alcohol for this conversation.” Downing her drink, she waves the bartender over.

So fucking sexy.

An hour later, we’re swapping funny stories about dating and being hit on, and she’s still trying to explain why she hasn’t dated. “From what I’ve seen, dating is overly complicated now. What happened to getting to know each other over a game of Scrabble and some sushi? Or a movie and pizza? My life is busy and complicated enough. Just thinking about dating is a lot. Maybe it’s different for men. Have you watched any of those Dateline shows? You can’t even invite someone you’ve just met over to your place because they might be a serial killer.”

“That’s what you’re worried about? Then you might want to keep this zipped so nobody swipes your wallet and figures out where you live.” I reach over and zip the small purse that’s dangling from thin straps draped across her body.

“I thought it was zipped. Thanks. But I’m serious, and it’s not just serial killers. I can’t imagine trying to find someone who’s not intimidated by my success or into me because of it. I bet there are plenty of gold diggers out there who want your silver spoon in their mouth.”

I smirk. “You said it, not me.”

Her eyes widen as understanding dawns on her, and she laughs. Her laughter is contagious, and that smile is fucking with my head the way it did at the wedding and at my family’s annual holiday dance at the resort after Sutton and Flynn got engaged.

Victory is so unguarded tonight, I wonder if it’s because we’re not surrounded by her family. I feel like I’m seeing a side of her she rarely unveils. Or maybe she reveals it often and just hadn’t around me. All I know is, it’s intoxicating, and I want to see more of it.

“I guess that’s one way to get to your fortune,” she says, and picks up her glass. “To gold diggers.” We toast. “All right, Silver, give me your best gold-digger story.”

“My best? I don’t usually spend enough time with women for them to get their claws into me, but there was one who my brothers and sisters will never let me forget. She was a tourist on the island for the weekend, and she was older than me.”

“How much older?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I need a visual. How old? What color hair?” She motions with her fingers for me to give her more.

“She was blond, curvy, and probably eight or ten years older than me. I don’t know. I was twenty-three and had just taken over the restaurant. I thought I was hot shit.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” She waves her hand. “You thought you were hot shit? Are you telling me there was a time when the great Wells Silver was not arrogantly confident?”

She’s a fucking trip. “Hell no. I was trying to be humble.”

“Nice try, but that’s not your strong suit.” Her eyes glitter with the tease. “Okay, go on. You’re a hot-shit twenty-three-year-old restaurateur, and in comes this gorgeous woman, one of a long line of them, I assume, who wanted to sleep with you.”

“You’re good. That’s accurate,” I say arrogantly. “Her name was Kelly, and we hooked up once.”

“Did you enjoy it?” she asks.

“What kind of question is that? Who doesn’t like sex?”

She rolls her eyes. “Have you honestly never had bad sex?”

“I’m driving the train, so no, I haven’t.”

“You’re so arrogant. You’ve never been with a woman who just lay there?”

It’s time to show her who she’s dealing with. I thread my fingers into the ends of her long hair, tugging her closer. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, sugarplum. I could make a dead woman squirm.”

She laughs, like I’ve made the funniest joke ever.

“Don’t laugh.”

“That wasn’t a very humble thing to say.”

“I was just being honest.”

“Okay, magic dick,” she says sarcastically.

“Maybe you’ve forgotten that there are many other ways to pleasure a woman besides fucking her.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” she says a little sharply.

“Are you?” I tug her closer. So close I can smell the whiskey on her breath. “I could make you beg for my cock using nothing more than a single finger.”

Her mouth opens like she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t say a word, and her brow furrows. “No way.”

“One finger.” I let that sink in. “Or the tip of my tongue.” I slide my tongue over my bottom lip, and her gaze tracks it. “My teeth are lethal, and don’t get me started on my—”

She puts her hand on my chest, her cheeks flushing as she pushes back, but only a few inches. “You’re an excellent storyteller. That’s more action than I’ve gotten in years.” She fans her face. “How about we go back to the tourist story?”

I was so caught up in her, I forgot I was in the middle of telling a story. I clear my throat, trying to shake the lust from my brain.

There’s no chance of that happening.

“Right. The tourist,” I say, forcing my brain into submission. “We hooked up, and the next day she told everyone who would listen that she was my girlfriend. I found her in the kitchen of my restaurant giving orders to the chef.”

Victory leans forward again. “No way.”

“It’s true. My brothers call her Kitchen Kelly. Some women are off their rockers.”

“Guys are no better,” she insists.

“Guys can be assholes, but are you saying guys have done worse to you than what she did? Because that was pretty bold.”

“You be the judge,” she says casually. “You know my company is fairly large.”

“How large? I need a visual,” I tease, earning another smile.

“Between the New York, LA, and London offices, we’ve got about sixteen hundred employees.”

“Now, that’s impressive.” We’ve been having so much fun, I lost track of the fact that she runs an entertainment empire. No wonder she wasn’t wowed by my owning a single restaurant. “So what happened? Did an employee try to climb you instead of the corporate ladder?”

“It wasn’t an employee. I’m too busy running the company to meet all the talent we sign, but I try to support them when I can. We’d just taken on a new fighter, and I went with the agent who signed him to see one of his big fights. After the fight was over, the agent stepped out to take a call, and I went to introduce myself to her client.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “He was schmoozing the crowd, and when he saw me, his whole face changed.”

“How? Like, damn, you’re hot? Or like, oh shit, there’s the boss?”

“Like a lion on the prowl who had just found his prey.”

“Seriously? Not that I blame him, but that’s ballsy.”

“It gets better. He swaggers over to me and says, ‘Hey, baby. I noticed you when I was in the ring. You looked good holding up those numbers.’ I was like…numbers? And then it dawned on me that he thought I was a ring girl!”

I bark out a laugh. “The perils of being beautiful. I bet you look great in booty shorts.”

“I do, thank you very much. I work hard for this ass.”

“And I appreciate that hard work.” We finish our drinks, and I push to my feet. “Come on. Let’s give that ass a workout.”

“Wells.” The surprise in her eyes wars with the desire brimming in them.

I take her hand, pulling her up to her feet in front of me. “It’s no secret I want to get my hands on you, but I meant, let’s hit the dance floor.” I slide my arm around her waist. “I’m not an animal. I’ve got better lines than that to get you into my bed.”

To continue reading, please buy FLIRTING WITH TROUBLE

Special edition ebooks are available exclusively from Melissa’s bookstore.

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