PERFECT KIND OF TROUBLE by Chelsea Fine (February 3, 2015; Forever Trade Paperback; $12.00)
Sometimes when perfect falls apart, a little trouble fixes everything . . .
Twenty-one-year-old Kayla Turner has lost everything. After spending most of her life taking care of her ailing mother, she just wants to spot a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. So when her late father-a man she barely knew-leaves her an inheritance, she finally breathes a sigh of relief . . . until she learns the inheritance comes with strings. Strings in the form of handsome playboy Daren Ackwood, her father's protégé. To see any of her inheritance, she's forced to team up with him. From his expensive car to those sexy dimples, Kayla's seen his type before. But Daren isn't who he seems to be . . .
Struggling to make amends for his family's mistakes, Daren has a life more Oliver Twist than Richie Rich these days. He's beyond grateful that James Turner included him in his will, but working with Turner's princess of a daughter to fulfill his cryptic last wish is making Daren wonder if being broke is really so bad. Still, she's just as beautiful as she is stubborn, and the more time he spends with Kayla, the less it feels right being without her. Soon Daren and Kayla begin to wonder if maybe the best gift Kayla's dad could have left them . . . was each other.
Twenty-one-year-old Kayla Turner has lost everything. After spending most of her life taking care of her ailing mother, she just wants to spot a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. So when her late father-a man she barely knew-leaves her an inheritance, she finally breathes a sigh of relief . . . until she learns the inheritance comes with strings. Strings in the form of handsome playboy Daren Ackwood, her father's protégé. To see any of her inheritance, she's forced to team up with him. From his expensive car to those sexy dimples, Kayla's seen his type before. But Daren isn't who he seems to be . . .
Struggling to make amends for his family's mistakes, Daren has a life more Oliver Twist than Richie Rich these days. He's beyond grateful that James Turner included him in his will, but working with Turner's princess of a daughter to fulfill his cryptic last wish is making Daren wonder if being broke is really so bad. Still, she's just as beautiful as she is stubborn, and the more time he spends with Kayla, the less it feels right being without her. Soon Daren and Kayla begin to wonder if maybe the best gift Kayla's dad could have left them . . . was each other.
About Chelsea Fine:
Chelsea lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where she spends most of her time writing stories, painting murals, and avoiding housework at all costs. She's ridiculously bad at doing dishes and claims to be allergic to laundry. Her obsessions include: superheroes, coffee, sleeping-in, and crazy socks. She lives with her husband and two children, who graciously tolerate her inability to resist teenage drama on TV and her complete lack of skill in the kitchen.
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I reach Mr. Perkins’s office and
quickly park before climbing out of the car in my high heels.
The inheritance really could be
only twenty dollars—or less—and spending an afternoon chained to Daren Ackwood
to find it could be a complete waste of time, not to mention horribly awkward
given our romantic encounter last night, but it’s worth a shot. Because if it
turns out to be a substantial amount of money, everything could change.
Not only could I go back to nursing
school, but I could afford a decent apartment and buy myself some time to find
a new job—one where my boss isn’t demanding I work for free or flash him in
order to pay off my mother’s debt.
Ugh. My life can really only go
uphill from where I’m at.
I know money can’t buy happiness,
and I believe that. But it would be nice to be out from under Big Joe’s
threatening thumb. And sleeping in a cockroach-free apartment while eating
regular hot meals wouldn’t be bad either.
I hurry down the sidewalk toward
Mr. Perkins’s office, tripping a little in my shoes. Maybe wearing the skirt
and heels again wasn’t such a great idea. But I wanted to look professional and
responsible, and the gray dress is too hot and the only other pair of shoes I
own are my beat-up sneakers from last night. I didn’t think a pencil skirt and
a pair of dirty sneakers really said I
can be trusted with my deceased father’s money. So I went with the pumps.
I wobble as my shoe catches on a
small pebble and curse under my breath.
High heels really are a bitch.
Up ahead, I see Daren round a
corner and hurry toward the office, now just a few yards down the sidewalk. I
relax a little, knowing he’s not there yet. As we near each other, my stomach
fills with butterflies. I don’t know what I’m more anxious about—the
inheritance or seeing Daren.
We reach Eddie’s door at the same
time.
“Good morning.” He smiles broadly.
“Morning,” I respond with a
cheerful smile of my own.
Our smiles are exaggerated, like
we’re trying to prove just how “okay” we are with the thing that never happened
last night. Then our eyes meet in brief a clash of lust, and tension fills the
air.
Daren is the first to break it.
“So. You ready to do this?”
“I am,” I say.
The tension returns, but this time
it’s laced with nervousness. We’re about to lock ourselves together. For money.
The morning after we dry humped each other against a bar. It’s nothing less
than weird and desperate. Which begs the question, why is Daren doing this?
I know why I’m subjecting myself to
this craziness but I’m still not sure why Daren has agreed—especially without
knowing how much money is at stake. Is he in it for the thrill? Is he just
bored?
Whatever his reasons are, I’m
grateful.
We enter the office and Eddie looks
up from his messy desk, his glasses perched on his shiny head. Today he’s
wearing a yellow button-up shirt with a plaid bow tie to match his plaid pants.
The look suits him.
“You’ve returned,” he says
brightly, standing to greet us. “I guess this means you’ve come to a decision
about Mr. Turner’s letter?”
“We have,” I say.
Daren nods. “Yes.”
“Excellent.” Eddie clasps his hands
together. “What have you decided?”
Daren and I exchange an anxious
look. My stomach does a flip-flop, afraid he’s going to change his mind, but
then he gives me a subtle nod and I nod back.
We turn to face Eddie, hold out our
wrists, and at the same time say, “Cuff us.”
“So this is where you work?” She
gestures at the closed kitchen door behind me as she approaches.
I step back so she can enter the
courtyard then glance over my shoulder. “It’s more like the place where I help
out in the kitchen, occasionally,” I say. “I like to cook so sometimes the
owner, Jake, let’s me jump on the line.”
She tilts her head. “I wouldn’t
have pegged you as the cooking type.”
“No?” I arch a brow. “What type am
I?”
“Well the professional lover type,
obviously.”
I grin. “That too.”
The teasing in her eyes along with
the lightness of her smile does something soft to my insides. This is a
different Kayla than the one I was sitting next to at the bar. That girl was
stressed and burdened, but this girl… this girl is hopeful and happy.
The only reason I can think of for
the change in her tone is the inheritance. Does the idea of getting money
please her so much that she’s suddenly this cheerful person? Does it please me that much?
I remember Jake’s comment earlier,
about my being happy, and realize with a sinking feeling that yes, the idea of
an inheritance has made me happy. Money would alleviate some of my problems
and, therefore, it gives me a security in my future that pleases me.
I’m not sure how I feel about money
having so much control over my contentment. It makes me sound an awful lot like
my dad.
“So what is this place?” she asks,
nodding to the courtyard around us.
I look up at the small twinkle
lights strung above the area. “Right now it’s just storage space. But Jake
wants to make it into a dining patio. You know, so people can rent it out for
private parties or whatever.”
“It’s cute.” She walks around,
checking out the rose bushes that line the fence and the Tuscany-inspired mural
painted against the back wall.
“So where you off to?” I step
closer so we’re both beside the painted wall. “Back to your humble abode at the
Quickie Stop?”
She scoffs. “Humble indeed. But
yeah.”
I glance at the dark parking lot
beyond the fence and the even darker streets that lead to the edge of town, and
frown. “By yourself?”
She faces me with a cocked eyebrow.
“Yeah. I’ve got my own driver’s license and everything.”
I smile at the ground. “Okay,
that’s fair.” I glance at the dark streets again. “I’m just a concerned citizen
that wanted to make sure you got home safely. That’s all.”
She nods. “How very kind of you,
citizen. Would you rather I be going back to the Quickie Stop with someone?”
The idea of Kayla going home with
someone—anyone, other than me—rakes down my spine like nails on a chalkboard. I
don’t know when I got so possessive of this girl but holy hell. My veins are on
fire.
How very unexpected. And somewhat
annoying.
I don’t get
possessive of women. Ever. Sure, I care about Amber and Pixie but that’s
different. I care about them like sisters. I’m protective of them. I couldn’t really give a damn who they, or any
other female in this town, go to bed with.
But Kayla?
Hot jealousy darts through my
veins.
How very annoyingly unexpected.
I set my shoulders back in a casual
manner. “Not particularly,” I say coolly. “I just wasn’t sure if you had a ride
or not.”
“Oh.” She runs a finger over her
lips. “And what, you were going to offer me a ride?”
I watch the tip of her finger skim
over the pink fullness of her bottom lip and my breath hitches. She can’t say things
like “give me a ride” and touch her mouth at the same time. That’s just not
fair.
“Well I might have offered you a ride,” I say, inwardly cursing as I
remember sweet, precious Monique, “except I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed
to take rides from strangers. And since that’s what you and I are…” I sigh
dramatically. “It would have just been a waste of time to ask you.”
She smiles behind her moving
fingers and I start to wonder if she’d let me kiss her. My guess is, yes.
Maybe.
I want to kiss Kayla. Badly. But
the idea of kissing her, of touching her at all, also makes me a little
nervous. And I’m never nervous when it comes to women.
Goddammit. Everything about this girl is unexpected.
“You’re so obsessed with us not
being strangers,” she says, and her eyes shine. “That can’t be healthy.”
I probably shouldn’t kiss her. We
have an inheritance to claim tomorrow. We have shit to follow through with.
Kissing her is a bad idea. A very bad idea.
“No. Probably not.” I step closer
so we’re only inches apart. “But I can’t seem to let it go.”
She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t
break eye contact.
Yes. She’d definitely let me kiss
her. I’m sure of it.
My heart pounds and it’s all I can
do to keep my nonchalant demeanor in place.
“Is that what we are, Kayla?” I lower
my voice with a crooked grin. “Strangers?”
She meets my crooked grin and
raises me a tipped chin. Her eyes are steel and sure, not giving anything away,
and I suddenly feel unsure.
I lean in.
She doesn’t react. But she also
doesn’t back away.
Kissing her is a bad idea.
Her lips part, ever so slightly, a
thin seam of wet flesh forming between the soft skin of her pretty lips, and
all my reservations vanish.
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