My Sinful Temptation: A novella in the Sinful Men series Read online

  My Sinful Temptation

  A novella in the Sinful Men series

  Lauren Blakely

  Little Dog Press

  Contents

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  About

  My Sinful Temptation

  1. Mindy

  2. Mindy

  3. Mindy

  4. Mindy

  5. John

  6. Mindy

  7. John

  8. Mindy

  9. Mindy

  10. Mindy

  11. Mindy

  12. John

  13. Mindy

  14. Mindy

  15. John

  16. Mindy

  Epilogue

  Another Epilogue

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  Copyright © 2020 by Lauren Blakely

  Cover Design by Helen Williams.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Big Rock Series

  Big Rock

  Mister O

  Well Hung

  Full Package

  Joy Ride

  Hard Wood

  The Gift Series

  The Engagement Gift

  The Virgin Gift

  The Decadent Gift

  The Heartbreakers Series

  Once Upon a Real Good Time

  Once Upon a Sure Thing

  Once Upon a Wild Fling

  Boyfriend Material

  Asking For a Friend

  Sex and Other Shiny Objects

  One Night Stand-In

  Lucky In Love Series

  Best Laid Plans

  The Feel Good Factor

  Nobody Does It Better

  Unzipped

  Always Satisfied Series

  Satisfaction Guaranteed

  Instant Gratification

  Overnight Service

  Never Have I Ever

  Special Delivery

  The Sexy Suit Series

  Lucky Suit

  Birthday Suit

  From Paris With Love

  Wanderlust

  Part-Time Lover

  One Love Series

  The Sexy One

  The Only One

  The Hot One

  The Knocked Up Plan

  Come As You Are

  Sports Romance

  Most Valuable Playboy

  Most Likely to Score

  Standalones

  Stud Finder

  The V Card

  The Real Deal

  Unbreak My Heart

  The Break-Up Album

  21 Stolen Kisses

  Out of Bounds

  PS It’s Always Been You

  The Caught Up in Love Series:

  The Swoony New Reboot of the Contemporary Romance Series

  The Pretending Plot (previously called Pretending He’s Mine)

  The Dating Proposal

  The Second Chance Plan (previously called Caught Up In Us)

  The Private Rehearsal (previously called Playing With Her Heart)

  Stars In Their Eyes Duet

  My Charming Rival

  My Sexy Rival

  The No Regrets Series

  The Start of Us

  The Thrill of It

  Every Second With You

  The Seductive Nights Series

  First Night (Julia and Clay, prequel novella)

  Night After Night (Julia and Clay, book one)

  After This Night (Julia and Clay, book two)

  One More Night (Julia and Clay, book three)

  A Wildly Seductive Night (Julia and Clay novella, book 3.5)

  The Joy Delivered Duet

  Nights With Him (A standalone novel about Michelle and Jack)

  Forbidden Nights (A standalone novel about Nate and Casey)

  The Sinful Nights Series

  Sweet Sinful Nights

  Sinful Desire

  Sinful Longing

  Sinful Love

  The Fighting Fire Series

  Burn For Me (Smith and Jamie)

  Melt for Him (Megan and Becker)

  Consumed By You (Travis and Cara)

  The Jewel Series

  A two-book sexy contemporary romance series

  The Sapphire Affair

  The Sapphire Heist

  About

  A brand new story in the sexy, emotional Sinful Men series! Devour this sensual friends-to-lovers romance from #1 New York Times Bestselling author Lauren Blakely…

  Just because you want a woman doesn't mean you get to have her.

  I've been lusting after Mindy Gamble since the night I met her, but romance was never in the cards. Working to crack a case was the only order of the day.

  Now, a year later, she's one of my closest friends. The feisty, no-nonsense, sexy-as-hell blonde that I just want to slap my handcuffs on and do bad things to.

  I resist though, since I need her too much as a friend. Until the night all my resistance cracks, and we fall into bed together.

  And I start thinking we can maybe find a way to make this work. Until she tells me she's leaving town...

  My Sinful Temptation

  A novella in the Sinful Men series

  By Lauren Blakely

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  1

  Mindy

  I had a good feeling about today. Maybe it would be a tough one, but ultimately things would be all right.

  Between my stint in the Army and my years working in private security, I’d learned to trust my instincts. They were attuned to trouble, and it was a welcome change to zero in on something different. Something good, even.

  That was why I ignored the accessorized outfit I’d picked out last night and hung on the hook on the closet door, as I usually did.

  Instead, I reached for something less somber, a combo more suited to the Nevada day than an air-conditioned casino.

  Blue instead of black. Well, that was a little less somber. Swishing the skirt to shake out the back-of-the-closet wrinkles, I slid it on and gave myself a cursory glance in the mirror, then a thumbs-up. I smoothed my hair and checked for lipstick on my teeth. I grabbed the extra pack of tissues from the dresser and put them in my bag.

  Because while I was optimistic about the day, I didn’t kid myself that there wouldn’t be tears—if not from me, then from someone I care
d about.

  The Sloan siblings had become dear to me, and not only because my best friend, Brent, had married into the family. They’d traveled to hell and back, enduring tragedy and upheaval that would tear any family apart, but they’d come out of it closer than ever.

  As I headed to the door, I glanced at the pictures of my sisters in Colorado that lined the hall. I missed them terribly, but not quite as much as I detested snow. In my favorite picture of us, we had our arms around each other and a fresh dusting of powder on our jackets and in our hair, and the camera had caught me glaring at the wretched white stuff like it had personally offended me—which it had, by simply existing.

  My sisters teased me mercilessly about that picture, and I grinned like I always did when I thought about it.

  I’d call Audrey tonight, catch up with her, and maybe talk to Celia, hands down the world’s most adorable five-year-old. No kid was cuter, and I never hung up the phone without a smile at some clever or endearing thing she’d told me.

  As I left, the hot and dry Las Vegas air evaporated all my thoughts about snow when I grabbed my car from the parking garage and drove toward the edge of town, stopping at a roped-off empty piece of land. The only thing left of the White Box Gentleman’s Club was the pitted parking lot full of vehicles, everything from town cars to news vans. The property where the bar had stood was now a bare patch of plowed ground.

  I snagged a spot at the end of the row. Groups of people were clustered on the empty lot, and I headed that way. I hadn’t gone far when a Nissan LEAF hummed past me and zipped into the empty space beside my car. I recognized the compact hatchback—by sight, and by the sound of its battery-powered engine—and I bit back a smile as Detective John Winston climbed out. He’d heard every joke I could make about his vehicle—about finding a place to plug in his car while on a stakeout, about the electric motor being good for sneaking up on criminals.

  I waited for him to catch up to me so we could walk over together to join the crowd, and as he reached me, I made a big show of checking my watch. “Right on the dot, as usual. You plan that, don’t you—arriving not a minute too soon or a moment too late?”

  He kept a straight face, but his blue eyes twinkled. “What if I do? And note that we are walking over together, Miss Punctuality.”

  With a shrug, I fell into step with him. “Too much ‘hurry up and wait’ during my formative years. So it goes when your dad is a colonel. You know, ‘If you’re not ten minutes early, you’re late,’ and all that.”

  “Nothing wrong with punctuality. It’s an admirable trait.”

  “It is.” I nodded with the same overly serious demeanor. Then I shrugged it off. “Now I guess it’s my little rebellion—seeing how close I can arrive without being late.”

  “Whoa.” He made a down, girl motion, but he was smiling. “I know this is Las Vegas, but don’t go too wild now.”

  I leaned over and confessed in a whisper, “Sometimes when I’m early, I sit in my car in the parking lot listening to a few minutes of a podcast instead of going in and twiddling my thumbs until the meeting or whatever starts.”

  “I know what you need.” His voice dropped low, and he leaned closer too, like he was offering me drugs. “I have an app that tells me my ETA to the minute. You could speed up or slow down accordingly. Want me to send you a download link?”

  I didn’t know how the man did it, but he made trading apps sound . . . like an invitation to something more.

  To something like going wild with Detective John Winston.

  Where had that come from? I hadn’t had a thought like that in a long while. There had been a time when I’d thought maybe there was a little spark between us, when I’d hoped it might catch fire . . .

  But that had not been in the cards. Friendship was our winning hand, it turned out. So I embraced that, even as his gravelly voice and his deep blue eyes made my skin tingle.

  “Sure. Send it to me,” I said, since it was better to banter than to dwell on how damn good he smelled, clean and woodsy and thoroughly masculine. Because that also delivered the tingles. “Do you also have one that detects when and how to avoid small talk with colleagues?”

  He groaned. “Small talk is the bane of my existence. Why do you think I have that app? When I slow down my drive, it’s so I won’t have time to make small talk.”

  I scoffed. “I call bullshit. Cops must have the get-there-ASAP reflex etched into them as rookies.”

  It was his turn to shrug. “I’m a detective now. By the time I get a call, a minute or two won’t make a difference.”

  He caught himself with a guilty grimace and glanced toward the crowd gathered around the staked-off square of dirt. “Sorry. I’m going to lose my sensitivity merit badge one of these days.”

  I swerved enough to bump his shoulder with mine. “You don’t have to apologize to me for dark humor. Or a dark side, such as it is.” We were still out of earshot. The Sloans were gathered on the far side of the lot, along with the mayor and a few other notables. “But . . . time and place.”

  “There’s a time and place for everything,” he said, his eyes locking with mine for a sliver of a second.

  I stepped onto the stone path. The heel of my shoe caught in the gravel, and I stumbled. Lashing out, I grabbed the only thing in reach—John’s arm.

  Whoa.

  I’d seen those muscles in the gym. Why was touching them different? How could the way he felt, even through his sport coat sleeve—or especially through his sleeve, touching what no one else could see—affect me on a deeper level than ogling him in the gym, admiring the curves of his arms, the washboard abs, the hard planes of his muscled back, ever had?

  Ah, crap. I did not need to be thinking this today.

  Today, I was here to support my friends. Not to cop a feel of my friendly neighborhood detective.

  “Careful there. It gets uneven where the building was bulldozed,” he said.

  “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” I said under my breath. The White Box had been an unsavory establishment. A gentlemen’s club that had never seen a gentleman. And that was before factoring in the mob boss who’d run the place.

  “No argument from me. Or anyone on the police force, really.”

  We jostled through the crowd until we were close to the front where we could see the Sloans gathered to the side of a podium with a microphone. A patch of bare earth had been roped off and a pristine shovel set aside for the formality of turning the first shovelful of dirt—and the photo op that would follow.

  I waved to Brent. His wife, Shannon, stood closer to her brothers, but Brent was an arm’s length away if she needed his support. I could imagine him being that way with their son too, who’d just started to walk—giving both independence and a safety net at the same time.

  Next to them was John’s sister, Sophie. She’d married into the family—she was Sophie Sloan now, married to Shannon’s brother Ryan. Spotting John, she turned on a beaming smile and . . .

  “Damn. I think she gets bigger every time I see her,” John said, keeping his voice down.

  Even with the low volume, I teased him. “You know that sensitivity merit badge you were worried about?” I held out my hand, palm up, and wiggled my fingers in a demand. “Hand it over, Winston.”

  Though, I had to admit, when she stood in profile like that, Sophie’s belly was awe-inspiring.

  My gaze drifted across the line of siblings and their significant others. These were my friends—finding love, creating homes together, and having babies.

  Enabling my favorite hobby—aunting.

  I was a most excellent aunt.

  John exchanged waves with his sister, then undid the button at his collar, his only concession to the heat. Undone buttons looked damn good on him.

  “Did you want to go up there with Sophie?” I asked, distracted by his off-center tie.

  He looked at me, his eyes alight with surprise. “No. She’s with Ryan and the family.”

  I wondered if he fel
t any of the same things I did, only more so, because Sophie was his little sister. The feeling of being on the outskirts of someplace busy and bustling, on the fringes of something special in this group of family and friends brought together by a connection that, once tragic, had finally come full circle.

  “Are you ready to be Uncle John?” I asked, segueing back to Sophie’s unignorable belly.

  He gave a snort. “‘Uncle John’ sounds like an old codger with cardigans and weird nose hair who swears he can forecast the weather with his bum knee.”

  “I didn’t know you could predict the weather,” I said cheekily.

  He scoffed. “That’s the part you home in on? The weather bit? You wound me, Gamble. Wound me.”

  Laughing, I bumped him with my shoulder. “Can’t wait to see those cardigans. Wear one to the gym next time, will you?”

  “Don’t tempt me. I just might now.”

  I grinned. Someone tapped the microphone up front, and a hush fell over the crowd. A woman I didn’t know—maybe a PR person—introduced the mayor, who welcomed everyone and then introduced Michael, who would say a few words on behalf of the family.