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Kiss & Tell
Alison Kent
Miranda Kelly has a secret. Or two.Relentlessly hounded by the bloodthirsty media since her bitter—and very public—divorce, Miranda retreats to the sanctuary of her old hometown. She also returns to an old passion—donning daring costumes at night to transform into Candy Cane, singer extraordinaire at the Club Crimson!When Caleb McGregor is seduced by the sultry swing of Candy's hips, Miranda loses herself and her troubles in Caleb's arms. But Caleb is keeping a big secret of his own. And when Miranda discovers the cruel truth, she can't ever return to his bed. Not even for the most earthshaking sex she's ever experienced. . .
Praise for Alison Kent!
“For me Alison Kent’s name on a book means that I am guaranteed to have a story that is realistic, entertaining, compelling and sexy as all get-out.”
—ARomanceReview.com
“Alison Kent has created in her giRL-gEAR series a believable, modern world where men and women behave just a little bit naughtier than they do in real life.”
—AllAboutRomance.com
“An outstanding tale of passion, sensuality and a dark fascination, Ms. Kent’s romance turns up the heat.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on The Sweetest Taboo
“Alison Kent delivers a knockout read.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on All Tied Up
“Alison Kent mesmerizes us with a compelling love story brimming with scorching sensuality and abiding love.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Call Me
Dear Reader,
I am a pop culture junkie. Not an addict, mind you. Or overly obsessive. I do love hearing who has landed plum movie roles, finding out what television series are canceled or renewed, seeing unexpected guest stars show up on network TV, etc. But I don’t wait for news on celebrity Starbucks sightings, or even care much about the love lives of the stars. Still, I know that’s not the case with everyone.
Funnily enough, I created the character of Caleb McGregor—aka Max Savage—long before stalkarazzi shows were as popular as they now are, but I’m glad I waited until the age of You Tube and TMZ to write his romance with Miranda Kelly, aka Candy Cane. Having one of them dreading the impending bombardment of the media and making the other one an expert at doing the bombarding made the story great fun to write.
I hope you get a kick out of Caleb and Miranda as they kiss and tell, kiss and don’t tell, then don’t kiss and tell some more! You can e-mail me at ak@alisonkent.com to let me know if you do. Stop by my blog at www.alisonkent.com/blog to visit with other readers and lovers of Harlequin Blaze, and to win all sorts of books and fun prizes. I’ll see you again in March 2009, when I’ll be hitting the track for Blaze’s 0—60 miniseries.
All my best,
Alison Kent
ALISON KENT
Kiss & Tell
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alison Kent is the author of five sexy books for Harlequin Temptation, including Call Me, which she sold live on CBS 48 Hours, several steamy books for Harlequin Blaze, including The Sweetest Taboo and Kiss & Makeup, both Waldenbooks bestsellers, a number of sizzling books for Kensington Brava, including the Smithson Group series, as well as a handful of fun and sassy stories for other imprints. She is also the author of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Writing Erotic Romance. Alison lives in a Houston, Texas, suburb with her own romance hero.
Books by Alison Kent
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
24—ALL TIED UP
32—NO STRINGS ATTACHED
40—BOUND TO HAPPEN
68—THE SWEETEST TABOO
99—STRIPTEASE
107—WICKED GAMES
120—INDISCREET
197—KISS & MAKEUP
213—RED LETTER NIGHTS
“Luv U Madly”
225—GOES DOWN EASY
287—INFATUATION
To Walt, for TMZ
To Brenda, for Dumbledore
To Helen Kay, for making sure I stayed sane
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Prologue
April…
“AN APPELLATE RULING has paved the way for a retrial in the case of Baltimore businessman E. Marshall Gordon. The CEO of EMG Enterprises was the fifth member of the board of directors to face charges of conspiracy to commit fraud related to EMG’s off-the-book partnerships. More on that in our national news segment after the break.
“And coming up in our celebrity beat, we have the latest from Max Savage on Colorado congressman Teddy Eagleton’s recent divorce from his wife of twelve years, and his romantic connection to Ravyn Black, the lead singer of the chart-topping emo band Evermore—”
“Enough, already.” Corinne Sparks reached to flip off the small television set she kept in the back room at Under the Mistletoe, almost knocking over a glass vase of hyacinths and lilies as she did.
Miranda Kelly, Corinne’s employer and owner of the flower shop in the resort town of Mistletoe, Colorado, had been seconds from doing the same thing. Neither one of them enjoyed seeing pieces of their lives on the news, and to be mentioned that way, one on top of the other—first her ex-husband, then Corinne’s estranged daughter—was too much.
“Tell me about it.” Miranda had been intent on using the quiet spring day for bookkeeping, but the specter of her past impinging on her present allowed room for little else in her head. “I left Baltimore so I wouldn’t have to be bombarded by the media’s obsession with everything related to Marshall. I sure don’t want to think about him while I’m paying bills.”
Frowning, Corinne resituated two of the lilies that had slipped in the close call. “I thought you left because the SOB couldn’t keep his zipper zipped.”
Well, there was that, thought Miranda, swiveling on the bar stool she used at the short end of the long L-shaped worktable that served as a desk. “That’s why I divorced him. And seeing his face every time I turn on the news these days reminds me how stupid I was to marry him in the first place.”
“He wasn’t a cheater when you married him,” Corinne reminded her.
“Pfft. He obviously had it in him to be one.” Miranda paused and tapped her pencil on the table’s surface, feeling an unexpected pang of hurt at the memory of Marshall’s infidelity. Logical or not, that pained her more than his criminal acts. “But I can tell you for a fact that the gossip sheets got it wrong. He did not go looking for sex elsewhere because he wasn’t getting any at home.”
“You’re preaching to the gossip-loathing choir here,” Corinne said, setting the finished arrangement in the refrigerated storage case for a late-afternoon delivery. “I know firsthand how much garbage gets printed as truth. Then again, in Brenna’s case, a lot of the garbage is the truth.”
Corinne had been working at the flower shop for five years now, ever since Miranda had moved back to the small Rocky Mountain town where she’d grown up, and bought the business from its retiring owners.
She and Corinne had been good friends long enough for Miranda to know the extent of the conjecture printed about her employee’s daughter, as well as the grief Brenna Sparks—the very same Ravyn Black mentioned in the Max Savage news segment—had caused Corinne. It was enough grief to bring about mother and daughter’s current alienation.
But since the television mention gave Miranda the opening, she took advantage and voiced what had been on her mind. “I’d been wondering when the congressman’s divorce was going to be final.”
“Such a proud moment, too,” Corinne said with a snort, “having to face that your daughter lacks the decency to keep her hands off a married man.”
And now Teddy Eagleton wasn’t married. Miranda sighed. “Ravyn—Brenna’s an adult. She’s been on her own for a long time now. And she’s the one who’ll have to answer for the things she’s done.”
“Really? Because she hasn’t had to answer for much of anything yet.” Corinne returned to her end of the worktable and flipped through the rest of the sale tickets to make certain she’d completed the day’s most pressing orders. “And, unlike your ex, I wonder if she ever will.”
Miranda knew Corinne was talking about the money she’d sent her daughter for college expenses—four years’ worth of lab fees, textbooks, tuition for extra classes when Brenna had pretended to change her majors, as well as room and board. The money had been spent instead on funding her band.
Brenna had paid for equipment and instruments, a practice room, stage clothes and traveling, not even completing her first semester, and making Corinne feel like a fool—especially since Brenna had bribed her little sister Zoe to intercept mail sent by the university in Washington State in order to keep their mother from discovering the truth.
Miranda knew, too, that several times over the past six years—since Evermore’s first album had hit it big—Brenna had tried to pay back her mother the money she’d stolen, and that Corinne had refused it, wanting nothing to do with what she called her daughter’s ill-gotten gains.
It wasn’t hard for Miranda to understand Corinne’s feelings…except that it was. Brenna’s “unexpected needs” had depleted the girls’ college fund, and Corinne was now struggling to find what Zoe would require for the basics as a freshman next year. She was struggling, too, with trusting Zoe, who’d been just as culpable as Brenna.
“Will you have to testify at the retrial?”
Corinne’s question snapped Miranda out of her reverie and dropped her back into the pit of worry she’d been doing a fairly good job of steering clear of. “I don’t know. My attorney says there’s a good chance I will, but he’s doing all he can to keep it from happening. Trust me, if I have to fly into Baltimore, I’m going to fly out as fast as I can.”
“You know, I’m surprised there haven’t been more reporters snooping around, seeing how this is your family’s home.”
“You and me both.” Not that they’d have an easy time finding her; when she’d returned to Mistletoe, she’d legally taken her mother’s maiden name for her own—a protective measure she’d felt necessary at the time.
Corinne went on. “I figured the ones hungry enough for a statement would at least make the effort. Especially considering the scope of your ex’s crimes.”
A scope that had cost thousands of EMG employees their pensions and almost as many investors everything they’d owned. “Marshall was always a big believer in the grand scale. The more money, the more power, the more covers on Forbes the better.”
“Or at least he was a big believer until he was sentenced to all those big years. I guess that was one grand scale he never saw coming.” Corinne tore her copy of the next ticket from the order book and turned to study the shelf of vases, choosing an elegantly flared one of cut crystal. “You think the outcome will be any different this time?”
Miranda turned back to her laptop. Like her employee, she had work to do. “As far as him being guilty or innocent? No. But it better be different in that this time it sticks. I don’t want to look up every five years to find a reporter sticking a microphone and camera in my face.”
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