Sweet the Sin

Sweet the Sin
is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Loveswept eBook Original

Copyright © 2015 by Claire Kent

Excerpt from
Darker the Release
by Claire Kent copyright © 2015 by Claire Kent

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

L
OVESWEPT
is a registered trademark and the
L
OVESWEPT
colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book
Darker the Release
by Claire Kent. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

eBook ISBN 9781101886274

Cover design: Lynn Andreozzi

Cover photographs: Claudio Marinesco (man), Mayer George/Shutterstock (woman)

www.readloveswept.com

v4.1

ep

Kelly Watson heard her phone buzz with a new text as she was pulling into the parking lot of one of the city parks.

It was almost eleven on Saturday morning, and Jesse’s flight back from Paris would have just landed, if it stayed on the schedule he’d mentioned. Kelly had met Jesse in a bar last weekend, and they’d gone back to his place afterward. The sex had been pretty good—standard-issue, nothing special—and she’d been hoping that the business trip he was leaving for the following morning meant she wouldn’t hear from him again.

She hadn’t given him her number, but she’d told him she painted pet portraits—which was obviously a mistake. There weren’t that many pet portrait artists in the DC area, so she wouldn’t have been hard to look up.

Maybe the text was from someone else. Maybe the client she was meeting at this park was running late.

When she shifted her car into park, she reached for her phone and glanced at the screen.

Hey, I’m back in town. Want to get together again? Got any time this weekend?

Jesse.

Damn it. He must have texted her as soon as his plane had touched down.

A familiar tension roiled in her gut as she stared at the words. She hated when guys did this.

She never pretended that her one-night stands were anything but casual, so there was no reason for anyone to try to turn them into something else. She didn’t do relationships, and doggy style on the bed while he tried to talk dirty certainly wasn’t going to change her mind.

She sat for a minute, wondering if she should just ignore him. But he hadn’t been mean or inappropriate with her, and she didn’t like to be rude, so she tapped out a reply.
Thanks. I had a good time too, but it was just the one time. Take care of yourself.

She reread it, making sure there were no undercurrents of encouragement in the brief lines. She hit send and dropped the phone into the front pocket of her bag.

Getting out of the car, she glanced down at herself to make sure she looked presentable. She had on one of her work outfits, consisting of a long, flowing, casual skirt, a tank top, and a thin tunic sweater. She’d set up her business when she was twenty-one, so she’d been doing this for seven years. In that time, she’d learned that clients expected a certain look from pet artists, and the slightly bohemian style—as long as it wasn’t too over-the-top—satisfied their expectations nicely.

Pet portraits weren’t exactly a booming business, so she did anything she could to give herself an advantage. She’d done all right for herself, considering. The first few years had been slow, but she’d used her adoptive parents’ wealthy contacts in the area and had slowly built up a business. She’d made a living out of it for the last four years, but if her adoptive parents hadn’t left her a sizable inheritance, she never would have been able to afford her lifestyle.

She swung her leather satchel over her shoulder and headed toward the entrance of the park. She was supposed to meet her client at eleven, so she was exactly on time.

There was no sign of a man and a German shepherd hanging around the entrance, which was where she assumed they would meet up, so she waited for a few minutes, watching all the approaching cars.

It was the weekend and a warm, sunny day in April, so the park was crowded. She’d never been to this park before, since she lived on the opposite end of town. There was a wide stretch of grassy lawns and several different trails that led into a wooded area.

Her breath hitched at the sight of the woods. If this client wanted her to walk those trails with him, she would have to tell him no. She’d make up something about how she needed open areas like the lawns to get a good picture of the dog.

She hadn’t gone beyond the edges of any woods since her father had been murdered eighteen years ago.

When she felt a flash of overwhelming emotion at the memory, she pushed the thought away with a practiced mental strategy, breathing out, clearing her mind, and looking at the family of four approaching with their golden retriever.

The dog had a good build, so she studied it, mentally sketching out a portrait of it in her mind.

After a few minutes, the threat of the memory had cleared.

At fifteen after eleven, she started to wonder if her client was waiting elsewhere in the park, since there was still no sign of him at the entrance. She walked down the main path and searched the wide lawns for a man with a German shepherd.

She had to walk over the slight hill toward the trees before she saw him, throwing a Frisbee to the dog.

She sighed, thinking it would have been polite had the man waited near the entrance for her like a normal person, but the wealthy types she catered to often weren’t thinking about what was convenient for her. She swallowed her faint annoyance and walked over to him.

The dog was beautiful. Well-bred and healthy, with thick fur, good lines, and a powerful run. He would make a beautiful portrait, even if his owner was rather inconsiderate.

Kelly pulled out her camera and snapped a few pictures as she approached. She usually painted from photographs, since that was easier for everyone—aside from the occasional client who mistakenly thought the portrait was “purer” when painted from real life. She always got to know the animals before she painted them so she could invest the paintings with personality, as well as get the visuals right.

The man saw her approaching and taking pictures of the dog, so he stopped throwing the Frisbee and waited until she reached him.

“Good morning,” she said with her professional smile. “He’s beautiful. His name is Chester?”

The man frowned. She guessed him to be in his forties. He was very attractive, with a strong, lean body, dark hair, and the stance of a man who was used to being in authority. He didn’t look at all the way he’d sounded on the phone.

“No,” he said, his voice deep and cultured. “It’s not.”

Kelly gave a little start as she realized she might have made a mistake. “He’s not Chester? You’re not Mr. Verner?”

“I’m not.” He tossed the Frisbee again, causing the dog to run exuberantly over to catch it.

“Oh. Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m supposed to meet someone with a German shepherd, and you’re the only one here who matches that description.”

He smiled then, evidently assured she wasn’t some crazed stranger who was stalking his dog with a camera. “If it’s some sort of online dating hookup, you should get a better description of him, rather than just going for the dog.”

There was amusement in his tone and a kind of teasing flirtation in his expression, making him even more attractive than before. She liked the little lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and she liked the warm chocolate brown of his eyes.

His body was nothing to sneer at either—his muscle development graceful and strong, rather than bulky.

As she’d been studying him, he’d been doing the same with her, his gaze crawling over her from her painted toenails in her sandals to her dark gold hair in a low ponytail. It was pretty obvious that he liked the looks of her, since his gaze heated up as he drawled, “He sure won’t be disappointed in you, though.”

“It’s not an online dating thing,” she said, feeling a familiar prickle of excitement and interest running down her spine.
Who was this guy, anyway?
“It’s a client I’m meeting.”

“I see.” He gave her a leisurely smile, his eyes lingering at the slight cleavage exposed at the neckline of her tank top. “Well, he still won’t be disappointed.” When his dog ran up to him, offering the Frisbee excitedly, the man grabbed it and tossed it again.

“You move pretty fast, don’t you?” She was used to men coming on to her, but usually in bars or clubs, where they were clearly both there for that purpose. It wasn’t all that common for a man to come on strong like this in normal daily interaction.

It was strangely exciting, though. Her heart was starting to beat faster as she waited for his response.

He laughed softly, his eyes still lingering on her face and body in a way that felt deeply entitled. “You’re the one who approached me with a ridiculous pretense of looking for a client.”

“Hey! That wasn’t a pretense. It was an honest mistake.” She pulled out her business card and offered it to him. “See.”

The dog returned and, seeing that his owner was busy reading a business card, he flopped the Frisbee down at Kelly’s feet. She picked it up and gave it a good throw, watching the dog bound after it.

“Pet portraits?” the man asked skeptically, with that same smug laughter in his eyes.

“What’s your point?”

“Nothing. You’re just that type, aren’t you?”

“What type?”

“Pet portrait artist. At one with the universe. Lover of flowers and trees and all furry creatures. Filling the world with pretty objects and warm fuzzies. I bet they call you Blossom, don’t they?” His tone was bone dry, as if far above such sentiment.

He probably was. She could tell even from their brief interaction that he was too intelligent, too experienced, too competent to have patience with anything trite or saccharine.

She liked that about him. Despite her intentionally bohemian appearance just now, she was as far as possible from those feelings herself.

“You don’t know me at all,” she said, pleased at the cool aloofness of her tone.

It just made him smile. When his dog lay down with the Frisbee, panting blissfully, the man started walking toward him, evidently expecting Kelly to fall in step with him. “I know a little about you. I know you paint pet portraits. I know you’re wearing vegan sandals and are reluctant to cut your hair. And I know you have on your bracelet various charms of dogs, cats, birds, and flowers.” He arched his eyebrows. “I think I’ve got a pretty clear sense of you.”

The bracelet was stupid, but her clients always liked it, and her hair was indeed very long, hanging down to the small of her back. But this arrogant man couldn’t be more wrong.

He might be eerily observant, but he knew
nothing
.

“Is that right?” she replied, giving him arched eyebrows in response. “You might be surprised about me. But there’s no way I’d be surprised about you. I’d know your type in my sleep.”

“Blossom, you could know my type in your sleep, if you asked nicely.”

She felt another tingle of excitement at the sexiness of his tone but ignored it. “You wear a suit to work every day, don’t you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. It’s just your type. You’re one of those guys who wears a business suit like armor—going through the world as if the nameplate on your office entitles you to whatever you want. As if your bank account makes you superior.”

The words weren’t particularly gentle, but he looked interested rather than offended. “What makes you think I have anything impressive in my bank account?”

“Please. I know roughly how much that watch you’re wearing costs.”

Because of the Watsons, her adoptive parents, Kelly was in good shape financially, but she didn’t own anything except her car that cost as much as the watch he was wearing.

“And I bet you’re wondering why would I spend money on something so superficial when I could be donating it to all the homeless animals in the world?” Again, he was teasing in that intimate way, as if he really did know her.

“I’m not like that,” she told him, speaking only the truth.

“Sure you aren’t.” He flashed her a grin. “What happened to your client, anyway?”

Kelly had actually forgotten about her client, so absorbed in the conversation had she been. She gave a little jerk and turned back to scan the park, focusing on the entrance, but there was no sign of another man with a German shepherd. “I think I’ve been stood up. It happens sometimes.”

Just then, her phone chirped with another text, so she reached in to pull it out of her bag. “Maybe that’s him.”

When she focused on the screen, she realized it wasn’t her client.
Are you sure? I’d make it worth your while. Promise.

She sighed. Jesse.
Why the hell wouldn’t he just give up?

“Not your client,” the man beside her said.

She glanced up. “How do you know?”

“I’m pretty good at reading expressions. Who is it? Your boyfriend being annoying?”

He was actually quite close. Impressive, given that they were strangers. “No. Just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.”

“He has my sympathy.”

She sucked in a breath. “Why should he have your sympathy?”

He had that smug, heated amusement in his eyes again. “To get a taste of a hot little thing like you—and then get the door slammed in his face? Can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

“I didn’t slam the door in his face. I was nothing but honest with him. He’s the idiot who ignored what I told him and keeps bumbling on toward something he already knows he can’t have.”

The man chuckled and reached out to run his fingers gently down a long strand of her hair. “It doesn’t matter what you tell him, blossom. You’ve got this gorgeous, untouched sweetness about you. It’s like a promise and a challenge.”

Her whole body went hot at the texture of his words, at the tension and power she could feel in his hand, his shoulders, his gaze.

She knew what he was referring to. She’d been born with clear creamy skin, pink cheeks, big blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face that gave the impression of innocence. There was no way she could dress that would change her natural look, even though she’d desperately tried when she was younger.

“Don’t assume the way I look is the way I really am,” she said, her pulse starting to throb in her wrists and her throat. She knew how to recognize the look in this guy’s eyes.

He wanted her.

And despite his smug superiority—or maybe because of it—she wanted him too.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so deeply attracted to a man. He wasn’t even her type. He was too old for her—with a dusting of silver in his hair—and she normally preferred blue-collar types. Military men. Cops. Firefighters. Construction workers. Men with calloused hands.

Not like this guy at all.