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Wicked Pleasure
Taryn Leigh Taylor
It’s a wicked game they’re playing… Breaking into enemy territory—a billionaire tech playboy's home—is what hacker AJ lives for. A hot fling with her sexy enemy isn't part of her plan. But falling for him might be the dangerous dare that AJ can't resist.
She thought she was immune to a deliciously sexy playboy’s charm. But this one lives up to every inch of his wicked reputation! Book three in Taryn Leigh Taylor’s The Business of Pleasure series.
AJ should definitely not be here. Breaking into enemy territory—especially a billionaire tech playboy’s home—is foolish...and just the sort of thing hacker AJ lives for. To get the dirt on Liam Kearney, she poses as a guest at one of his lavish, decadent parties. Nothing prepared AJ for a man this gorgeous, this charming and whose devilish eyes promise oh-so-much trouble.
A hot fling with her sexy enemy was never part of AJ’s master plan...nor is this insatiable craving for more.
This isn’t just a game anymore. As the stakes get higher, so, too, does the white-hot attraction sizzling between AJ and Liam. Loyalties, reputations, careers are all on the line. But AJ is a survivor. She’s always known how to walk that dangerous line and not get burned. Only, this time she might be in way over her head.
Sexy. Passionate. Bold. Discover Harlequin DARE, a new line of fun, edgy and sexually explicit romances for the fearless female.
TARYN LEIGH TAYLOR likes dinosaurs, bridges and space—both personal and of the final frontier variety. She shamelessly indulges in clichés, most notably her Starbucks addiction (grande six-pump whole-milk-no-water chai tea latte…aka: the usual), her shoe hoard (I can stop any time I… Ooh! These are pretty…!) and her penchant for falling in lust with fictional men with great abs. She also really loves books, which was what sent her down the wild path of writing one in the first place. Want to be virtual friends? Check out tarynleightaylor.com (http://www.tarynleightaylor.com), Facebook.com/taryntaylor1 (http://Facebook.com/taryntaylor1) and Twitter, @tarynltaylor (https://twitter.com/tarynltaylor?lang=en).
Wicked Pleasure
Taryn Leigh Taylor
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08708-7
WICKED PLEASURE
© 2019 Taryn Leigh Taylor
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u872f47ce-49ad-5575-8505-d58d75d2453f)
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For Kim—because I love you. And because you love
Max. You’ll always be my favourite palindrome.
For Juanita—I put your name in the story as a tribute
for getting me through some tough writing battles.
Also, because it starts with J.
And for Crystal—thanks. Merci. Gracias. Danke. I know it’s redundant at this point, but I can’t say it enough. I couldn’t do this without you. #fact
Contents
Cover (#u72881686-779f-58ee-96b1-97772222e88c)
Back Cover Text (#ua078a8aa-69ee-5b45-9cd5-1aa65871481c)
About the Author (#u1f018f19-5b55-5c2a-91e4-8d209cacdad7)
Title Page (#ufb91b30f-c0bc-5140-8694-ca472f52e77e)
Copyright (#u1c72e518-680a-5a8f-980d-1a9a2b011816)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u17a49a66-9292-5216-9ab0-5f540f6244b3)
CHAPTER ONE (#u552ef9cb-e79c-5657-8614-8f7268154ee6)
CHAPTER TWO (#u49dd09cd-515c-59a8-956d-e6ba264c25ff)
CHAPTER THREE (#u03bb449c-793d-5a4f-aa93-f0c07c83bae1)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u772f96ca-7c0f-5d85-adca-42a6f3f9c9f7)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u9be4c47a-11f8-5494-bc25-4865b8bc91f4)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u872f47ce-49ad-5575-8505-d58d75d2453f)
IT HAD BEEN a long time since she’d crashed a party.
AJ weathered yet another snooty look from yet another glittering society princess, dripping diamonds and sipping Dom. She waited until Socialite Barbie passed before she looked down at herself.
She’d miscalculated a little there, AJ conceded, tugging discreetly at the hem of her dress—short, tight and black. Club wear might get her the right kind of attention when she went dancing—which was to say she never sat out a song or paid for a drink—but tonight, she stuck out like a poor relation. She’d been so busy hacking her way into this shindig that she hadn’t paid too much attention to the dress code.
She should have bought something new. Something fancier.
This was a Liam Kearney event, after all. The tech magnate was known for his lavish lifestyle, his womanizing ways and his profligate parties.
Also, his tech was fucking epic.
AJ let her gaze wander over her lush surroundings. Lucrative, too, judging by his fancy digs.
She’d never been to a real Beverly Hills mansion before. The place had the works: tennis court, fountains, greenhouses, indoor/outdoor pool (currently full of bikini-clad models, natch), and most importantly, fancy French doors that led to Liam Kearney’s office.
AJ reached into her shiny little purse thing, pulled out a tube of lipstick and did a quick reapplication in the ugly but ornate mirror hanging on the wall beside her. Probably cost more than her rent, she thought with derision, careful to angle the opening of her purse away from the closest of the six hidden cameras she’d located in her visual sweep. She placed the lipstick back inside, surreptitiously starting the stopwatch on her phone as she withdrew her hand.
He might have gaudy taste in mirrors, but his surveillance was expertly placed. Not that she’d expect anything less from the man who’d practically redefined cybersecurity. The whole place was wired up tight, and it was impressive as hell. Good enough to keep most professionals out.
AJ tucked the satin bag back under her arm.
Of course, she wasn’t most professionals.
She took a couple of steps before she paused and pretended to fix her shoe, grabbing the doorknob for support. It turned easily in her hand, without setting off any audible bells or whistles. With a quick glance to make sure no one was paying attention, AJ slipped into the room, closing the door behind her.
Four, no five, discreet cameras took immediate notice of her. With that kind of setup, a silent alarm was probably overkill, she figured, sizing up the place, but she wouldn’t rule out the possibility yet.
The office itself was modern and stylish with six big, evenly spaced windows that you could see through from the street (provided you were packing a pair of decent binoculars and had the skills to avoid the omnipresent private security patrol), and a computer setup with enough monitors to impress any fourth-rate TV show set decorator, but shit for doing any real work.
AJ stopped at a bookshelf crowded with tech awards and press clippings, careful to make sure whoever was monitoring the feed mistook her for an idly curious partygoer and not the security threat she was.
Despite herself, she was a little impressed by the shiny hardware. From national commendations for tech innovation to entrepreneur of the year, the man had won every accolade there was.
She picked up a heavy silver frame and stared at the photo of young Liam as a newly minted CEO. He looked...scrappy. Determined. Not so much happy as hungry, and she respected that.
He’d been eighteen years old when he’d launched Cybercore.
It was beyond impressive. Also the recipe for a million photo ops.
She set the frame back on the shelf.
No thanks.
AJ preferred to make her mark on the tech industry in less...public ways.
As though she had all the time in the world, she meandered toward the desk.
From the imposing black leather chair to the Cybercore logo spinning on each of the high-res monitors, everything about the room screamed Inner Sanctum of a Tech Mogul.
AJ didn’t buy it for a second.
She was good, yeah. Hell, she was the best, but the fact that she’d just waltzed into this “office” without tripping anything direr than a couple of security cams told her this room was just a showpiece—a quick stop for nosy houseguests who wanted to see where the magic happened.
This was not where Liam worked, and this was definitely not where he stored anything of importance.
Which meant that her gut had been right when she’d spent hours yesterday poring over the blueprints of his mansion.
The office was a decoy; the server was in his bedroom.
AJ rolled her eyes, because of course it was.
