Sultry in Stilettos
Read Sultry in Stilettos Online
Authors: Nana Malone
Tags: #romantic comedy, #interracial romance, #contemporary romance, #nana malone, #in stilettos series
The In Stilettos Series
Book Two
Nana Malone
Copyright 2012 Nana Malone
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales, is entirely coincidental.
Sultry in Stilettos
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Nana Malone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Art by Kimberly Killion
Edited by Val Hatfield of Finish the
Story
Published in the United States of America
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
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Dedication
To my husband, thank you for seeing me.
To my daughter, thank you for surprising
me.
To Marcie, just thank you.
Table of Contents
“I want to see other people. Starting
right now.”
Ricca Munroe’s heart
stuttered, and her whole world stood still. She blinked up at her
boyfriend Charles Garber, trying to comprehend the words that came
out of his mouth. But her brain only caught snippets. The phrases
she did catch hit her like blows. “Too clingy…”
Slap
. “Too focused on
marriage...”
Slap
. “…not enough fun…”
Punch
. “…Don’t care enough about
your appearance…”
Knockout
. Apparently this asshole
was related to Roberto Durant.
He
was dumping
her
? In the middle of the Westhorpe Gala?
Hell
.
Right now, one of her best
planned fantasies was happening, and not only was she missing
it,
she
was
getting dumped. By a guy
she’d
planned to break up with? While she was wearing
Spanxx no less. The universe had a messed up sense of
humor.
Her best friend Jaya was getting the
proposal of a lifetime, and Ricca was here on the balcony listening
to this asshole. When Jaya’s hope-to-be-fiancé had approached Ricca
to plan the proposal, she’d worked hard to make it happen. At least
something good would come out of this night.
She glowered at Charles. When he’d
picked her up tonight she’d thought he looked dapper with his gray
tuxedo complementing his smooth, café-au-lait skin. Now, he just
looked like a slimy slug who’d ignored the black-tie attire
suggestion. “Funny how you couldn’t do this back at my place before
we came out tonight.” Fury and confusion made for a fiery cocktail
in her stomach.
He had the nerve to look bored. “I’m
not an asshole. I wasn’t going to let you walk in all alone. But
we’re done. I’m going to go mingle.”
“Let me get this straight, you’re
doing me a favor? Funny how this favor couldn’t wait until the end
of the night.” She narrowed her eyes. “You met someone, didn’t
you?”
His voice was smooth—velvety—slick. “I
just need to be with someone a little more driven. You know, going
places.”
“And you think because I’m nurturing,
I’m not driven.”
“Let’s face it. You’re the type of
woman who wants to be married with kids. And that’s fine. I just
don’t want that now.”
Her hands shook as she spoke. “Get the
hell out of my sight.” If he didn’t leave her field of vision, she
was likely to slap him in the face with her Spanxx.
He shrugged and walked
away. Even more horrifying than all of this was the fact that the
sniveling asshole had dumped her before
she
could break up with
him
. She'd known for
weeks that she had to do it. But the holidays weren’t ideal. And
not because, as her friend Micha suggested, that she would eschew
all the good gifts if she did it earlier, but rather because
neither one of them was in town. Dumping someone over the phone, or
worse by text message, was
so
the new Post-it breakup, circa
Sex and The City
.
Why the hell was she always making bad
man choices? Guys that she thought were solid and nice and seemed
to care about her. Then shit like this happened. They were either
deadbeats like Royce, who’d asked her to buy him a car. They only
cared about sex, like Alan. They wanted an in with her friends,
like Antoine. Or worse—cheat on her like that asshole, Braedon. She
was off men—for good.
Okay so maybe not for good, but at
least for a really long time. Her problem was that she was always
chasing the possibility of love. She’d never actually been in love,
but she understood the difference. It wasn’t that she hadn’t met
the one, but rather that he was actively hiding from
her.
Move, she told
herself.
Move
.
Get somewhere safe, then you can
cry and throw things.
But her feet refused
to budge. She couldn't move her arms, like she was frozen alive.
Like her limbs didn't connect to her brain, and there was nowhere
to hide.
The crisp clicks of staggering
stilettos off the polished concrete floor filtered through Ricca’s
numbness as did the cocktail chatter. At least she was on the
exterior balcony where no one could see her face. Above her, only a
few clouds marred the clear night. Since they were so close to
downtown she couldn’t see too many stars, but the few she did
twinkled cheerily, oblivious to her woes. Strong heat lamps
bracketed against the side of the building were the only thing that
kept the crisp air from slicing through her.
She had to get out of here before
anyone saw her. If she ran into Jaya, her friend would insist on
trying to help. And God help them all if she ran into Micha. She
would slaughter Charles publically, CSI and prison be
damned.
A tear escaped from her
lashes.
Shit
.
Nausea rolled through her belly, and she wanted to hurl. But there
she was, rooted in place. With no one coming to her aid.
Shit, she had to move
before everyone witnessed her crumble into sloppy reality TV star
kind of tears. Bracing her hand on the steel railing of the
balcony, she wrapped an arm around her waist. The borrowed
Balenciaga corset dress was a bad call. Not only had she had to put
a cropped blazer jacket over it to cover the girls, but now the
damn thing was cutting off her circulation. Or maybe that was the
Spanxx. She dragged in several deep breaths in a futile attempt to
calm her nerves. How the hell did someone escape a crowded party
with their boobs hanging out, teetering on four-inch stilts while
being asphyxiated? The hint of
Hugo
by Hugo Boss cologne alerted her that she wasn’t
alone on the balcony. The scent was as familiar to her as her Marc
Jacobs
Oh Lola!
perfume. As her heart kicked, her breathing grew shallow, and
her palms started to sweat.
“Help. I need a rescue. Stage one
Annie Wilkes clinger on my tail.”
Ricca gasped with surprise as Beckett
Mills practically skidded into her. Given his broad-shouldered, six
foot five-inch frame, she would have been road kill if he’d
actually run over her. But what a way to go. With his curly blond
hair and piercing blue eyes, not to mention his swimmer’s body,
she’d have been the envy of every woman here.
Quickly she wiped her
cheeks with her drink napkin and plastered a smile on her face. She
could do this. A little small talk and she could escape.
Nerves of steel, Ricca.
The last thing she needed was Beckett’s pity. Ricca was used
to playing buffer between him and overzealous women. After all,
what good were wing-women if not as buffers? This was familiar
territory. She’d explore her feelings about Charles dumping her
later. Just as soon as she burned her Spanxx.
“Sorry, B, you’re no Paul Sheldon.
Besides, I told you not to bring a colossal clinger as your date.
When I met her last week, I told you this one wanted to have your
babies like tomorrow. But you never listen to me.”
Beckett’s aqua blue eyes narrowed, and
he frowned as he scrutinized her. The frown hardened his
too-handsome features and made him look dangerous. “What’s
wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered automatically.
Best friend or not, she didn’t want to talk about this. Not now.
Not with him.
He sighed and adjusted his bow tie,
sticking a finger between the tight knot and his Adam’s apple. “You
might as well tell me. I’ll keep harassing you until you do, and
that would be a waste of your
holy-shit-you’re-actually-showing-skin party dress. Just tell
me.”
Ricca squared her shoulders. “You’re
very irritating, you know that?” Ever since she’d known him, he had
a way of making her forget her inherent shyness and just be her.
Probably because he was persistently annoying. “Charles dumped me,
okay? Can we stop talking about this now?”
“When the hell did he dump you? I saw
you come in with that sniveling moron. I mean, why would you come
with him to the party if—” He snapped his jaw shut, and his
shoulders slumped. “Shit. When I just saw him walking
away…”
“Was me telling him to go screw
him—”
She didn’t get to finish as she
instantly came in contact with Beckett’s chest. His arms enveloped
her, and he squeezed. “He’s an asshole. If you want, I’ll grab
Micha, and we’ll go disappear Charles’ ass.”
For one overindulgent
second, Ricca let herself sink into Beckett’s embrace. She inhaled
his unique scent of ocean and
Hugo
cologne. She allowed herself just one second of
flutter in her lower belly and a galloping heart. Then she very
deliberately stepped away.
“Thanks, but I’m good. Now do you want
to explain to me how you ended up with yet another
clinger?”
His lips quirked into a parody of a
smile, but his brow remained furrowed. “Well, I wouldn’t have had
to show up with a sub-par date if you had come with me.”
Ricca schooled her
expression, even though she winced inwardly. She’d been deflecting
Beckett’s shameless flirting for years. But tonight it smarted.
“Well, to be fair, I had a boyfriend when you came running to me
needing a last minute date.”
Sniveling
asshole EX-boyfriend.