Page 1 of Bad Kitty

One

Nikki Carson sucked in a deep breath and swallowed more witches’ brew. The slight kick of alcohol fueled her anticipation and also quieted her nerves. Double bonus.

She knew she’d made the right decision to come to this Halloween party at her boss Easton Nolan’s lavish home—although home seemed like an understatement for a house that boasted an indoor pool and flat screen TVs in most of the rooms, including the kitchen. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t acquainted with money. The Massachusetts branch of the Carsons were dripping with it, thanks to their fancy glass-based security system. Her cousin, Blake, could put Easton to shame when it came to having the most expensive toys, that was for sure. Still, rich or not, Blake was family.

The Nolans so were not.

Right now, when she was standing in the center of the action without a soul to talk to, she felt hopelessly out of place. Where was Easton? This was his party, after all, and he’d yet to make an appearance.

Someone else had though. His sexy-as-sin twin brother, Patrick, strutted around like a king presiding over his court, looking big and delicious even in his mud brown monk’s robe.

She turned to make small talk with the woman beside her, one of Easton’s most influential clients. Sue Thornton owned many of the commercial properties in Cloverville, Pennsylvania, and threw a lot of business at Nolan Real Estate. She was exactly the sort of contact Nikki needed to make if she wanted to become a successful real estate agent herself down the road. Not yet. Next year at this time, she hoped she’d feel ready to take the licensing exam and move on to phase two of her career. In the meantime, she’d just schmooze and enjoy the party.

Sue continued on about some charity dinner she attended, and Nikki listened with half an ear while she smoothed a hand over her unruly hair. A tickle between her shoulder blades told her someone was staring. Watching her just a little too closely. Maybe it had been a while since she’d dated regularly, but she still knew the moves.

Sort of.

A quick glance over her shoulder proved her suspicions correct—brown eyes smoldered into hers from a few feet away. Patrick Nolan’s eyes.

She sucked in a breath. Sleeping with the boss never constituted a smart move. But what about the boss’s brother? And God, why was she thinking that way? They were merely acquaintances. Patrick stopped by his brother’s office often to drop off coffee and to talk to his twin, usually to tease him until Easton gave in to Patrick’s irrepressible sense of humor. They sparred often, but their arguments weren’t serious, just good fun.

As far as she and Patrick were concerned, they had a casual almost-friendship. Patrick was so easy to be with that she found herself speaking to him like she would to a girlfriend, until she caught sight of the bulging muscles under his T-shirt and the way his tight jeans cupped his ass. Then all the girlfriend comparisons disappeared.

Who could blame her? The guy took hot to a whole new level. His body…sweet Mary, the man could inspire dreams even in that damn monk costume. She couldn’t see much of his face, but his lips held a wicked tilt and his eyes bored into hers in subtle challenge. Though he and Easton were twins, she had no trouble telling them apart. All she needed was to see the two men walk to know which was which.

Patrick was the living embodiment of naughty. He sweat for a living—he worked on houses while his slick, polished brother sold them—and his swagger served as a convincing argument that he knew how to make a woman sweat when the lights were off, too.

And now, wonder of all wonders, he seemed preoccupied with her.

Testing her theory, she circled the room several times, talking to different groups of people, and almost every time she glanced up, she found Patrick’s attention locked on her. She toyed with her headband, regretting her costume choice. The genie’s pink hot pants and midriff-baring top were cute, but she didn’t want to be adorable. She wanted to be sexy. To feel emboldened enough to saunter over to Patrick and whisper in his ear, “Hey, big boy, want to take this someplace more private?”

She giggled into her drink, wondering if she’d had too much punch. Eh, well, no matter. She felt good. Her nerves had begun to abate and she had a hottie—now there was a word she’d only use when buzzing—following her every move. This was one hell of a party, even if her boss hadn’t appeared and she still hadn’t quite worked up the chutzpah to approach Patrick.

For what? What exactly did she want from him?

Sex would be a good start.

“You like the punch, hmm?”

Startled by both her thoughts and the low voice near her ear, Nikki jolted backward and bumped into a solid wall of hard, muscled male. The smell of the outdoors wafted over her. Woodsmoke, fresh air, crisp leaves. Just that alone made her want to turn and see how fast she could dig through the miles of fabric shielding a body that should be naked at all times.

“Easy.” He took her elbow and held her firmly in place so she couldn’t turn to face

him. Her heart thumped in her chest as her mouth went dry. “Party’s almost over,” he said softly, crowding her from behind in the most sensuous way.

She nodded, wondering why he wouldn’t let her turn around. “Yes, on both points,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t crack.

“You here alone?”

The punch suddenly seemed too sweet, but she kept drinking. “You know I am. You’ve been tracking me like it’s genie hunting season all night, Mr. Nolan.”

He paused just long enough for her to think he hadn’t appreciated her joke. Finally, he chuckled and brushed his fingers over her hip. “You’re beautiful.”

She tossed her hair and tried not to melt at his feet. Her skin flushed when he skimmed his mouth over her earlobe, but she didn’t say anything. Hot or not, this was her boss’s brother.

“You have a helluva ass,” he murmured. “Maybe I shouldn’t say that,” he added when she braced. “But these pants are killer and I haven’t been able to think of anything else. You’re not seeing anyone?”

“No.” Deliberately, she set aside her glass. “Nor have I been the other, oh, seven hundred and so days I’ve been employed at Nolan.”

“Really.” In his butter smooth voice, that word contained at least six syllables. “I didn’t realize you’ve been so…celibate.”

“Not celibate. Not always.” There had been a time she’d been the exact opposite. But she’d left partying behind around the same time she’d taken a very respectable position as Easton’s assistant. “Sometimes dating is—”

“Overrated.” Before her heart could plunge any farther, he whispered, “A quarter to midnight. Meet me by the basement door.” He was gone before she could draw breath or come up with a suitable response.

The next two hours passed so slowly she didn’t know if she wanted to say to hell with it and jump Patrick early or run home before she did something that could cause a ripple in her heretofore unrippled work life. She’d changed. She wasn’t the sort of woman who engaged in spur-of-the-moment hookups anymore, no matter how attracted she might be to Patrick. And his sexy walk and his husky voice and his huge, capable hands…

But then midnight approached, and she found herself heading toward the basement. She stopped directly under the cardboard cutout of a glowing yellow moon and maniacal broom-riding witch. Alone. She didn’t even have her glass of punch.

A hand snaked around her waist, dragging her away from the basement and under the stairs that led up to the second level. In this darkened alcove, she could hear every beat of her heart—and his—as he turned her to face him. He bent his head and glided his lips over her cheekbone. “You came.”

She reached up to tug back his hood and threaded her fingers through the fringe of hair shadowing his eyes. “Not yet,” she teased.

“Let’s rectify that.” He brushed back her curly hair and slid his tongue up and down her neck in swirling patterns that turned up the heat in her core from simmering to boiling. Before she could settle in to enjoy, he whirled her around and stepped in close. She pressed her palms against the wall while he cupped her hips in both hands and rubbed, allowing her to feel every inch of his erection. A very healthy one at that.

“I normally don’t rush the first time. But these circumstances aren’t exactly conducive to a slow fuck. You okay with that?” While his lips skated over the damp side of her neck, his fingers crept across her midsection. He claimed one of her breasts, and she let out a surprised moan. “Shh, sweetheart.”

She nodded and tried to breathe. Just the idea of doing this was soaking her panties. “Yeah, fast is good with me.”

“Excellent.” She heard him smile as he scraped her nipples with his thumbs. He had big thumbs. Big everything. She shuddered and dropped her head to his shoulder. “But—shit.”

“No. No shit,” she said with more than a little panic when he stopped moving his hand down her body toward where she throbbed. “What?”

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh, that.” She broke into a grin and fished a foil packet out of her bra. “No problem.”

“Smart as well as beautiful.”

He circled the area that had grown damp between her legs, not delving into her pants for so long that she started to pant. It didn’t help that he’d gone back to sucking her neck—and rubbing his thick hard-on between the cleft of her cheeks. When he finally did slip his hand into her panties to touch her bare pussy, she made a sound between a whimper and a moan, biting down on her lip so hard she tasted blood.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart. Feel that. Mmm.” He licked her earlobe. “Do you taste like punch?”

She let out a shaky laugh. She was pretty sure he wasn’t asking what her mouth tasted like. “I highly doubt it.”

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