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Sleeping With Her Rival
Sheri WhiteFeather
SHE PLAYED WITH THE BIG BOYS IN THE BOARDROOM…. But with rival Flint Kingman, had PR exec Gina Barone met her match in the bedroom? The wealthy, cocky spin doctor, hired against her wishes, forced her into a pretend affair to divert the media from her family's business scandal. For as long as it took, their red-hot "liaison" would burn up the Boston tabloids.Powerless to resist, Gina entered Flint's world of erotic fantasy, where he called the shots…where his raw, primal heat threatened to melt her ice-princess heart. In her adversary's arms - with his bed mere inches away - the pretend affair suddenly felt all too real….
March’s menu
BARONESSA GELATERIA
in Boston’s North End
In addition to all our regular flavors of Italian gelato, this month we are featuring:
Chocolate cake drizzled with hot caramel
With a rebellious lock of soft brown hair over his amber-flecked eyes, Flint Kingman had only to look at a woman to have her do his bidding. Until Gina Barone stepped onto his client list. Now he summoned her onto his turf and prepared for a battle of the sexes.
A slice of baked Alaska
Gina Barone worked in a man’s world—and knew the male of the species. She would shed her icy persona and become the sultry she-devil in their pretend affair, just as Flint wanted. Then she would burn him.
Flesh-burning three-alarm chili
A wet kiss, an erotic pose…Flint and Gina put on a good show for the paparazzi. But who was more surprised by the genuine heat rising from the pictures—the proper Bostonians, the Barone family…or the couple themselves?
Buon appetito!
Dear Reader,
In honor of International Women’s Day, March 8, celebrate romance, love and the accomplishments of women all over the world by reading six passionate, powerful and provocative new titles from Silhouette Desire.
New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala leads the Desire lineup with Amber by Night (#1495). A shy librarian uses her alter ego to win her lover’s heart in a sizzling love story by this beloved MIRA and Intimate Moments author. Next, a pretend affair turns to true passion when a Barone heroine takes on the competition, in Sleeping with Her Rival (#1496) by Sheri WhiteFeather, the third title of the compelling DYNASTIES: THE BARONES saga.
A single mom shares a heated kiss with a stranger on New Year’s Eve and soon after reencounters him at work, in Renegade Millionaire (1497) by Kristi Gold. Mail-Order Prince in Her Bed (#1498) by Kathryn Jensen features an Italian nobleman who teaches an American ingenue the language of love, while a city girl and a rancher get together with the help of her elderly aunt, in The Cowboy Claims His Lady (#1499) by Meagan McKinney, the latest MATCHED IN MONTANA title. And a contractor searching for his secret son finds love in the arms of the boy’s adoptive mother, in Tangled Sheets, Tangled Lies (#1500) by brand-new author Julie Hogan, debuting in the Desire line.
Delight in all six of these sexy Silhouette Desire titles this month…and every month.
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Sleeping with Her Rival
Sheri Whitefeather
To Silhouette, for inviting me to do this project. To the other Dynasties authors and our editor, Mavis Allen, for being such a joy to work with. To Frank Cardinal, my primo dad, for introducing me to Italian delis, Italian words and Italian humor. To Rick Bundy, my very special second dad, for inspiring the classic Corvette and the Caine Mutiny in this book. To Joanne Rice, my cousin, and Flora and Mary Yacabucci, my great aunts, for their unwavering support.
And, finally, I would like to acknowledge two remarkable teenagers—
Brenna, my beautiful “new” daughter, and Nikki, my “old-soul” son.
I love you both.
SHERI WHITEFEATHER
lives in Southern California and enjoys ethnic dining, American Indian powwows and visiting art galleries and vintage clothing stores near the beach. Since her one true passion is writing, she is thrilled to be a part of the Silhouette Desire line. When she isn’t writing, she often reads until the wee hours of the morning.
Sheri is married to a Muscogee Creek silversmith. They have a son, a daughter and a trio of cats—domestic and wild. She loves to hear from her readers. You may write to her at: P.O. Box 17146, Anahaim, California 92817.
Meet the Barones of Boston—
an elite clan caught in a web of danger, deceit…and desire!
Who’s Who in
SLEEPING WITH HER RIVAL
Flint Kingman—His fiery, passionate nature clashes with his stoic part-Cherokee heritage. Still, with his dark good looks and rakish smile, he is the media’s darling….
Gina Barone—Her hot temper steams next to the cold shoulder she turns to everyone she views as corporate competition, including Flint Kingman. With her briefcase and her chignon, she is the ice princess….
Maria Barone—The baby of the family, she carries on all the traditions at the decades-old Baronessa Gelateria. And she carries on the family secrets, as well….
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
One
Gina Barone wasn’t in the mood to party, but she sipped a glass of chardonnay—praying it wouldn’t irritate her stomach—and worked her way through the charity mixer, feigning an I’m-in-control smile.
She knew it was important to be seen, to hold her head high, especially now. Gina was the vice president of marketing and public relations for Baronessa Gelati, a family-owned Italian ice cream empire—a company being shredded by the media.
Something Gina felt responsible for.
Moving through the crowd, she nodded to familiar faces. Although she’d come here to make her presence known, she thought it best to avoid lengthy conversations. A polite greeting was about all she could handle. And with that in mind, she would sample the food, sip a tiny bit of wine and then wait until an appropriate amount of time passed before she said her goodbyes and made a gracious exit.
“Gina?”
She stopped to acknowledge Morgan Chancellor, a business associate who flitted around the social scene like a butterfly, fluttering from one partygoer to the next.
“Oh, hello. You look lovely, Morgan. That’s a beautiful dress.”
“Why, thank you.” The other woman batted her lashes, then leaned in close. “Do you know who asked about you?”
Gina suspected plenty of people were talking about her, about the fiasco she’d arranged last month, the Valentine’s Day publicity event that had ended in disaster.
Baronessa had been launching a new flavor called passionfruit, offering a free tasting at their corporate headquarters. But pandemonium erupted when people tasted the gelato.
An unknown culprit had spiked the ice cream with a mouth-burning substance, which they’d soon discovered was habanero peppers—the hottest chilies in the world.
And worse yet, a friend of Gina’s who’d stopped by the event at her invitation had suffered from an attack of anaphylaxis, a serious and rapid allergic reaction to the peppers.
She’d nearly killed someone. Inadvertently, maybe, but the shame and the guilt were still hers to bear.
Gina gazed at Morgan, forcing herself to smile. “So, who asked about me?”
“Flint Kingman.”
Her smile cracked and fell. “He’s here?”
“Yes. He asked me to point you out.”
“Did he?” Gina glanced around the room. The crème de la crème of Boston society mingled freely, but somewhere, lurking amid black cocktail dresses and designer suits, was her newly acquired rival.
Anxious, she fingered the diamond-and-pearl choker around her neck, wishing she hadn’t worn it. Flint’s reputation strangled her like a noose.
The wonder boy. The renowned spin doctor. The prince of the PR world.
Her family expected her to work with him, to take his advice. Why couldn’t they allow her the dignity of repairing the media damage on her own? Why did they have to force Flint Kingman on her?
He’d left a slew of messages at the office, insisting she return his calls. So finally she’d summoned the strength to do just that. But their professional conversation had turned heated, and she’d told him to go to hell.
And now he was here.
“Would you mind pointing him out to me?” she asked Morgan.
“Certainly.” The redhead turned to glance over her shoulder, then frowned. “He was over there, with that group of men, but he’s gone now.”
Gina shrugged, hoping to appear calm and refined—a far cry from the turmoil churning inside.
“I’m sure he’ll catch up with me later,” she said, wondering if he’d attended this party just to intimidate her.
If he didn’t crawl out of the woodwork and introduce himself, then he would probably continue to spy on her from afar, making her ulcer act up. It was a nervous condition she hid from her family.
“If you’ll excuse me, Morgan, I’m going to check out the buffet.”
“Go right ahead. If I see Flint, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.” Gina headed to the buffet table to indulge in hors d’oeuvres, to nibble daintily on party foods, to pretend that she felt secure enough to eat in public. No way would she let Flint run her off, even if she wanted to dart out the door.
As she studied the festive spread, her stomach tightened. This wasn’t the bland diet her doctor recommended, but what choice did she have?
The shrimp dumplings would probably hit her digestive system like lead balls, but she placed them on her plate next to a scatter of crab-stuffed mushrooms and a small helping of artichoke dip.
Balancing her food and a full glass of wine, she searched for a sheltered spot. The posh hotel banquet room had been decorated for a cocktail gathering with a small grouping of tables and lots of standing room.
Gina snuggled up to a floor-to-ceiling window, set her drink on a nearby planter ledge and turned to gaze at the city. Rain fell from the sky, and lights twinkled like pinwheels, casting sparks in the brisk March air.
She stood, with her plate in hand, admiring the rain-dampened view. And then she heard a man speak her name.
The low, vodka-on-the-rocks voice crept up her spine and sent her heartbeat racing. She recognized Flint Kingman’s tone instantly.
Preparing to face him, she turned.
He gazed directly into her eyes, and she did her damnedest to maintain her composure.
She’d expected tall and handsome, but he was more than that. So much more.
In an Armani suit and Gucci loafers, he stood perfectly groomed, as cocky and debonair as his reputation. Yet beneath the Boston polish was an edge as hard as his name, as sharp and dangerous as the tip of a flint.
He exuded sexuality. Pure, raw, primal heat.
She steadied her plate with both hands to keep her food from spilling onto the floor. Men didn’t make her nervous. But this one did.
He didn’t speak; he just watched her through a pair of amber-flecked eyes.
“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” she said, her posture stiff, her fingers suddenly numb.
A cynical smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and a strand of chocolate-brown hair fell rebelliously across his forehead.
“Nice try. But you know exactly who I am.”
“Oh, forgive me. You must be that Bowie guy.”
