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Building a Bad Boy
Colleen Collins
Her own custom-made bad boyWhen Kimberly Logan makes men over to find their mates, she knows the type of guy women want. However, Nigel Durand, an all-around beautiful hunk of man, might be her toughest client yet. He's got the droolworthy look, but his nice-guy personality and sweet ways make him too available. Looks as if she's in for a lot of hands-on coaching.Too bad the more she has her hands on him, the more tempted she is. And when he throws himself into being "Nicky," his charming and sexy alter ego, Kimberly can't resisL.especially when he delivers steamy kisses and whispered promises. After hitting the sheets with him, she knows this is one bad boy she's not letting go!
Kimberly dabbed a nervous tongue to her lip
The gesture grabbed Nigel’s attention, sharpened the pull between them. Following the bad-boy rules she had set out earlier, he moved slowly across the bar toward her, stopping directly in front of her chair.
She looked up, her lips parted as though to speak. Instead, she fluttered her fingers to the top button on her blouse.
He shifted closer, his knee brushing hers. The accidental touch triggered small fires over his skin. And from the flush on her cheeks, he could see she felt it, too. The unspoken desire in her eyes made him bold. He slid one arm around her waist and pulled her to him, feeling her swollen breasts against his body. She shivered.
In his best bad-boy tone he leaned forward and whispered hotly into her ear, “I want you.”
Dear Reader,
Many of you have asked about the hunky, former professional wrestler Nigel—aka “The Phantom” with the body of The Rock and the heart of E.T.—who loved to bake brownies for the heroine in Joyride (Harlequin Temptation #867, February 2002).
Well, Nigel’s back and he’s bad.
Make that almost bad. In Building A Bad Boy, Nigel has decided he’ll never win the woman of his dreams by sitting next to the phone, so he signs up with a dating agency whose owner, Kimberly Logan, enrolls him in her “How To Make a Bad Boy” program. After all, women love bad boys, right?
What Kimberly is totally unprepared for is the impact her coaching has…on her!
This is one of my last books for Harlequin Temptation, and I’ll miss the line as both a reader and writer. My history with this series goes back to 1992 when, as an unpublished author, my story placed second in their fifth annual Harlequin Temptation contest. I finally sold to Harlequin four years later.
I hope you enjoy Building A Bad Boy. To check out my upcoming books and enter my monthly contests, please visit my Web site, www.colleencollins.net.
Happy reading!
Colleen Collins
Books by Colleen Collins
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
867—JOYRIDE
899—TONGUE-TIED
913—LIGHTNING STRIKES
939—TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT
977—SWEET TALKIN’ GUY* (#litres_trial_promo)
HARLEQUIN DUETS
10—MARRIED AFTER BREAKFAST
22—ROUGH AND RUGGED
30—IN BED WITH THE PIRATE
39—SHE’S GOT MAIL!
108—LET IT BREE CAN’T BUY ME LOUIE
Building A Bad Boy
Colleen Collins
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the Temptresses
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u425b7aa6-156e-5424-9b45-699db38643ed)
Chapter 2 (#ue94bb8c9-2898-5ff9-8679-bbe1725badb2)
Chapter 3 (#ue602b7d1-0d19-587a-b608-b42794b4c347)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
1
KIMBERLY LOGAN PUSHED OPEN the polished mahogany door with the stenciled words Life Dates… where you’re coached along the path to love. The buzz of Las Vegas traffic faded as she stepped inside and clicked the door shut behind her. She paused to catch her breath while eyeing the recent renovation of her waiting room from cheery yellow to seductive dusty rose. The new color scheme was infinitely more stimulating, exciting…precisely the environment Kimberly wanted for her clientele who came seeking love ever after and lust evermore.
The air-conditioning seemed a tad cool, though. Even in February, she liked to keep it humming on a low setting. Most dating service first-timers were anxious. Cool air helped soothe them. Too chilly, however, would only add to their nervousness.
I’ll ask Maurice to adjust the temperature ASAP. Kimberly headed to his desk—her high heels clicking across the polished parquet floor until she stepped onto the thick Oriental rug—and halted at a teak desk.
Behind which sat Maurice, his tanned face creased by his I’m-not-happy-with-you look. Despite his attitude, he looked natty as usual. Khaki pants, pink polo shirt. Gay men sure knew how to dress.
She glanced at her office door, which was closed. “I know,” she demurred, meeting her office manager’s gaze. “I’m late.”
“Kimberly,” he said crisply, “you must stop making appointments for 9:00 a.m. and not showing up until—” with a flourish of his wrist, he checked the time “—9:38. Worse, this guy showed up fifteen minutes early, so he’s been cooling his heels in your office for almost an hour. Fortunately he has the patience of a saint, unlike that guy two weeks ago who copped a ’tude and used your Waterford bowl for an ashtray—”
“It’s those weekly Chamber of Commerce breakfast meetings,” she said on a release of breath. “People arrive late, speakers talk too long. I’m on time for all my other meetings.”
“When you’re here, not cavorting about in your Beemer, doing networking things.”
“You’re right. I’m still reacting to Great Dates opening up one of their national offices two blocks away. I keep thinking if I don’t do everything to promote Life Dates, especially as it has such a similar name, they’ll cut into our business.”
“Kimberly, what you offer is unique. No global dating agency can begin to cater to Vegas clients the way you do. They’re like Hershey’s chocolate, you’re like Francine’s Gourmet Bonbons.”
Francine, a local high-end chocolatier, had a loyal following who thought nothing of shelling out twenty-four dollars for a dozen homemade, hand-dipped bonbons.
“Thanks,” Kimberly murmured.
It offered some comfort that Life Dates was the most successful dating agency in Vegas, although she had a lot on her plate running the business as well as being its resident “success coach”—a marketing term she’d coined four years ago when she opened the doors. As a success coach, she didn’t just play the same boring connect-the-dots and match up person A with B, like Great Dates did, she personally coached her clients—from picking out their clothes to helping them practice the fine art of dating and, ultimately, seduction.
“If it makes you feel any better,” said Maurice, “I set up a meeting next week with Barnet and Owens.”
“The advertising agency?”
“Yes. They’re going to pitch a local TV campaign idea for us.”
“Great idea.” She plucked a jelly bean from the jar on his desk.
“You didn’t eat at the breakfast meeting, did you?”
“No time.”
He handed her a clipboard with a form secured underneath a silver clamp. “Here’s his application.”
She quickly scanned it. “His first name’s Nigel.”
“So Noel Coward, isn’t it? You know, I should fill that candy bowl with soy nuts instead of sugar. No wonder you’re always motoring a thousand miles an hour.”
“Nigel Durand.”
“A little English, a little French.” Maurice lowered his voice. “Shame he’s straight.”
She peeked at Maurice over the clipboard.
He raised a hand in mock protest. “I’d never flirt with any of your clientele.” He feigned a shudder. “I might be gay, but I’m no masochist.”
Kimberly offered a small smile.
“It’s good to see you smile,” he said warmly. “Someday I’ll even get you to laugh out loud.”
She returned to the application. “Wrestler?”
“Former. Plus he’s bald, thirty-four, wants the picket fence, wife, kids.”
She looked up and frowned. “Bald?”
“Retro-Yul Brynner. Very in right now.”
“Hairless heads are making a comeback?” she murmured, nudging a strand of her blond hair back into her chignon.
“Darling, you might run the chicest dating service this side of the Rockies, but you must get out more! Go see a Vin Diesel flick.”
Vin who? “No time.” She checked her reflection in the gold-veined mirror over the guest couch. Making a quick adjustment to her jacket, she murmured, “I’ll go in and meet Nigel now.”
“I’ll bring in your coffee.”
“Two—”
“I know. Black. Two packets Skinny Sweet.”
She headed to her office. “And by the way,” she whispered over her shoulder. “I laugh out loud sometimes.”
“When?”
“I Love Lucy reruns.”
Maurice tossed her a “really?” look as he sauntered back to the kitchenette.
Until he came along, she’d been through nearly a dozen office assistants. It wasn’t that Kimberly was overly demanding or intense—despite what several of them had huffed—she just wanted her business to be run right.
Which, finally, Maurice did. After almost a year working together, she didn’t know what she’d do without him. Even his nagging. The guy had her best interests at heart.
Unlike the other men she’d had in her life.
She placed her hand on the brass knob of her office door, took a calming breath, then opened it and stepped inside.
“Mr. Durand, I’m so very sorry.” Kimberly swept into the room as she had a hundred times before, shoulders back, chin high, exuding conviction. She’d learned long ago that no matter what the circumstances, people responded favorably to grand displays of confidence.
“I had an emergency meeting this morning that was impossible to break,” she continued, putting on her best I’m-so-sorry look. “I apologize for your having to wait.”
Nigel Durand rose from the guest chair. And kept rising until he’d unfolded into a towering mass of bulk that loomed over her.
A towering mass of bulk with a shiny dome on top.
She eased in a stream of air and stared heavenward, getting the giddy sense she was standing at the foot of a mountain. And for a moment, she felt small, overwhelmed. Things Kimberly Logan never felt.
“That’s all right, ma’am,” said a deep voice that reverberated like thunder from the mountaintop.
She felt like telling him she was only twenty-eight. Call her Miss or Ms., but please not ma’am.
