Devil In Cowboy Boots Read online

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  The Wild Rose Press

  www.thewildrosepress.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Sylvie Kaye

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Reviews

  Devil In Cowboy Boots

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  About the author...

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  She spotted the dark, daring demon once again. Dressed in black, he almost blended into the night. Confident and handsome, he uncrossed his booted foot and his arms and turned to face her.

  His black jeans, snug on his lean hungry hips, made her suck in her bottom lip. The man was hot. She was going to burn. Maybe get more involved than she wanted. But at the moment she didn't care. Her feet kept stride with the thrumming music.

  The honed muscles of his arms beneath the sleeves of his black shirt flexed, giving away his anticipation. She arched her brow. A hint of a smile touched her lips, and her high-heeled steps quickened.

  When she was in front of him, face to face, the music stopped, and her surroundings faded away. No one else in the standing-room-only club and nothing else along the bustling river existed, just her and him. Her heart hammered, her knees went weak. But she stood her ground and looked into his eyes. They weren't black, but dark, dark brown. Liquid almost. She could drown in them.

  His mouth was full, firm, sinful. And waiting.

  "I'll bet you're one of the original sins,” she said, sure that he was.

  He cracked a devilish smile. “Babe, I'm all of them."

  Reviews

  Devil in Cowboy Boots

  4 1/2 from Two Lip Review—” ... a very hot, sexy read that will draw you in from the first page to the last. The heat between Mercy and Spence is so instantaneous and combustible, you'll be grabbing for some ice. The characters are very believable and well developed and blending in secondary characters and a secondary plot makes this story all the more delicious. This is the first book I've ever read by Sylvie Kaye, but it certainly won't be the last. She has a way of combining humor, intrigue and sensual delights to keep the reader entertained from start to finish! I'm positive you won't be disappointed at any time!"

  5 Angels from Fallen Angel Reviews—"Sylvie Kaye packs many sexual experiences, romance, deception, friendship, and wraps it all up within the last few chapters brilliantly. Sylvie's characters have substance and the story flows so well, entangling all of the many elements very seamlessly. Devil in Cowboy Boots is a well rounded read with a beautiful end. I'm a sucker for happy endings. If you are, too, do not miss Sylvie Kaye's Devil in Cowboy Boots."—Tracey

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  Devil In Cowboy Boots

  by

  Sylvie Kaye

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either 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.

  Devil In Cowboy Boots

  COPYRIGHT ©

  2007 by Sylvie Kaye

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Angela Anderson

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, August 2008

  Print ISBN 1-60154-393-X

  Published in the United States of America

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  "I've just seen the devil, and Sister Frances Doria was dead wrong.” Cindy swooned, pointing toward the mist on the other side of the San Antonio Riverwalk.

  "And you're only figuring this out twelve years after graduation.” Mercy shook her head before squinting across to the Starry Night Club, where fake fog in a hellish shade of green swirled to the sound of live music.

  "She didn't tell us he was handsome,” Cindy gasped. “She only mentioned the evil part.” She turned away. “Don't look. We run the risk of turning into pillars of salt."

  "Don't look where?” Mercy stared across the water, but a party boat decked with colorful flowers and small white lights sailed by, blocking her view. The passengers waved, shouting to the landlocked crowds along the walkways.

  Mercy waved back, half-hearted, and just as the lounge band at the club on the other side struck up a loud rock beat, the green mist parted to reveal a shadowy masculine figure.

  And all hell broke loose within her. The rhythm drummed through her brain, urging her to indeed go out in a “Blaze of Glory,” while her breath halted and the close, humid night wrapped itself around her in a hot hug. She stood spellbound by the man's captivating appearance.

  Tall, lean, with smoldering eyes that grabbed hold of her insides and made them clench with want.

  Mercy had to force her tongue between her lips to speak. “If he's the devil, why is he wearing cowboy boots?"

  "Sister Frances Doria never mentioned that part either.” Cindy shook her head, apparently at the oversight.

  "It's about time we crossed over to my uncle's club.” Mercy's breath came in wisps, as if the man drew the air from her lungs and throat and pulled it across the river to him. All the while his dark eyes seared into her soul.

  "Let's wait until later,” Cindy said. “I doubt he's the type for what you have in mind."

  "He's not a type.” Mercy sighed. “That man invented hot and steamy.” The black, smoky depths of his stare dared her to come to him.

  Fluid, sexy, and relaxed, he leaned his provocative body against the wall of the brick balcony and crossed one booted foot over the other. The fake green fog lingered at his heels.

  Mercy's pulse picked up speed. “I'd bet my next life he's the one."

  Cindy studied him and scowled. “How can you tell?"

  "I can feel it between my thighs ... oh, never mind exactly where, but trust me, I know he's the man of my fantasies."

  "I've had fantasies fulfilled by men that didn't look like they'v
e been to hell and back. I think you should wait. You've only been in town two days."

  "If I stay uninvolved emotionally, he's perfect for me. While you live here now, I don't. In two weeks when my vacation's over, it's back to Pennsylvania and my bland existence for who knows how long."

  "Promise you won't do anything hasty."

  "I'll look but not touch.” She yanked Cindy by the arm and elbowed her way through the people milling the crafty gift shops, fragrant flower stands, and savory sidewalk restaurants.

  When she glanced back, he hadn't moved. Impatience pulsed through her veins and her pussy as he continued to stand in the fading green haze as if waiting for her.

  "I wish you'd hold out for a man who looks capable of more than a one night stand.” Cindy hopped on one foot to adjust the strap of her platform shoe. “No, I take that back. Two. Just to make the point that he can do you again at will."

  "I'm aiming for a dozen one-nighters,” Mercy said, the pounding beat of the music ever driving her forward. “Enough hot, unforgettable sex to see me through the endless boredom of my medical transcription job in Lily Pond, where the baddest boy in town thinks a G-spot is somewhere on the golf course."

  They climbed the stone steps that led to the bridge and to the fulfillment of the uncontrollable need she somehow knew he could satisfy. Once on the other side, she let go of Cindy. They shouldered through the people, single file, until they reached the blue-canopied entrance to the club.

  "I can't watch this. I'm getting a cold drink. Something not called Sex on the Beach.” Cindy headed for the bar, and Mercy followed the music out onto the balcony where the green fog had dissipated.

  She spotted the dark, daring demon once again. Dressed in black, he almost blended into the night. Confident and handsome, he uncrossed his booted foot and his arms and turned to face her.

  His black jeans, snug on his lean hungry hips, made her suck in her bottom lip. The man was hot. She was going to burn. Maybe get more involved than she wanted. But at the moment she didn't care. Her feet kept stride with the thrumming music.

  The honed muscles of his arms beneath the sleeves of his black shirt flexed, giving away his anticipation. She arched her brow. A hint of a smile touched her lips, and her high-heeled steps quickened.

  When she was in front of him, face to face, the music stopped, and her surroundings faded away. No one else in the standing-room-only club and nothing else along the bustling river existed, just her and him. Her heart hammered, her knees went weak. But she stood her ground and looked into his eyes. They weren't black, but dark, dark brown. Liquid almost. She could drown in them.

  His mouth was full, firm, sinful. And waiting.

  "I'll bet you're one of the original sins,” she said, sure that he was.

  He cracked a devilish smile. “Babe, I'm all of them."

  She tried to remember all seven but she could only recall pride. He had a right to be proud. His body was to die for. He looked like he could take her to all the erotic places she wanted to go.

  Her fingers twitched with the temptation to run them through his slightly longish, thick, black hair. But that was only for starters. Where on his sleek body wouldn't she like to touch? She inhaled deeply, only to fill her lungs with his manly scent, which brought another sin to mind, lust.

  "Recounting all your sins?” he asked, his voice low and soul searching.

  Not only was the devil a mind reader, but the sound of his lulling voice erased any embarrassment she might have felt at getting caught checking out his sinful assets. Nothing she did or said around him seemed to make her flush with anything other than an aching need deep in her core.

  She shook her head, wishfully.

  "Denial.” He reached out to touch her jaw, and she thought about stepping back, her no-touching promise to Cindy flashing briefly through her mind.

  But, technically, she wasn't laying a hand on the man.

  Spence stroked a finger along her jawline. The movement slow. The moment endless. Her skin felt tender and warm to his touch.

  His nerve endings sizzled. He hadn't meant for her to scorch him. From the second he'd spotted her on the other side of the river, all blonde and honeyed, he'd played with her to pass the time. She wasn't his type. Too wholesome. Too innocent. Hell, there wasn't an inch of spandex or leather anywhere on her body.

  Yet his finger lingered on the soft, delicate skin along her jaw, wanting to trail down the curve of her slender neck into the sloping vee-neckline of her body-hugging, ivory dress. But he checked himself, pulled away. She was so fresh-faced beautiful.

  She'd cause him trouble. Her kind wanted more than he was able to give. He should leave, walk away.

  "My name's Mercy,” she said, when the last thing he wanted to know was her name.

  Her voice sounded husky and desirable, hitting him in the lower gut. His cock strained inside his jeans.

  "Mercy's an appropriate name for picking up sinners.” He crooked a half smile, wondering if he could scare her off. Save himself the trouble of turning tail and leaving.

  She smiled fully, rosy-lipped. Sexy. Tantalizing. Mercy. He'd need a lot of that for what he'd like to do with her mouth.

  Starting with shoving his tongue halfway down her throat until she moaned his name and ending with her swallowing his cum to prove she was his and his alone. But nice girls didn't do those things, and the women who did he avoided exchanging first names or body fluids with. That's what nicknames and Trojans were for.

  Mercy hadn't asked his name, and he hadn't decided yet if he would give it to her if she did. Although he damn well knew he shouldn't even be considering the notion.

  "Do you have a name, sinner?” Her eyes shone blue and innocent like salvation and he found that way too tempting.

  Spence made his decision.

  "Sinner will do.” For now, a part of him thought. When all of him should've vowed forever. Revealing his name might make her more permanent than right-now. He was treading into a dangerous area. Nothing was as seductive as her goodness.

  He waited for her to bolt. But the sweet thing stood there, gloriously ready to take him on, her body oozing with feminine sexuality. Everything from her fingers to her legs was long and slender, made for loving. Licking.

  Could he take advantage of her? His swelling dick shouted yes. Somewhere in the back of his brain another voice whispered no, not unless he wanted to remain lost for all time.

  For now, he dwelled with his own kind. The hopeless. Lost souls who buried their problems in each other's bodies for a night and moved on. Streetwise people.

  She smiled and nodded, her pretty halo of blonde hair bobbing with the movement. “Interesting name. Do you dance, Sinner?"

  The band had returned from their short break to strike up the chords to some song. He knew he was going to give in to her for tonight. Probably condemn his soul further by doing the dirty with the clean, young thing. But he wasn't going to go down easy.

  "I don't dance to anyone's tune but my own,” he dared.

  Her smile widened, her lips moist and pink and beckoning. “Then this is your song."

  He listened, chuckled. The band played a Texas two-step and the lead singer was crooning, “She's got the devil in her eyes."

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  Chapter Two

  Once on the saw-dusted dance floor, Sinner danced to his own music all right, a much slower rhythm than the band played. He held her so close Mercy could barely breathe. Her breasts pressed against his broad chest in a soft crush.

  Her nipples ached and swelled, and she'd only known the man a few minutes. Regardless of what Cindy thought, he was definitely the one—the man to help her reach sexual Utopia. Something she couldn't achieve in the staid, small community back home where everyone knew everyone's comings and goings.

  And this was all about coming.

  "Careful,” he murmured.

  If he'd been reading her mind again, his warning came way too late. Between his husky voi
ce and his warm breath near her ear, thrills spiraled to her hot, wet pussy where she craved his attention the most. Any thought of caution seeped from her body.

  Only when his strong arm wrapped around her waist to right her balance did she realize his advice was directed at her dance missteps.

  Mercy tried once again to concentrate on her feet. Slide, slide, step, step, step. But sliding with Sinner across the floor wasn't something she could keep her mind on for long. His taut muscles, stretching sensuously from his thighs to his lean hips, incited a fascinating distraction. While his legs moved in time with hers, his groin clashed against hers.

  And another muscle, which he made no attempt to hide, flexed against her belly, foretelling of a dance that needed no music and she was sure would have a much wilder rhythm.

  Sinner felt hard and hot—and huge. Mercy sucked in a moan.

  Her head spun with hazy plans. Her first vacation away from home in years was the ideal time and place to let her hormones run wild. Who knew when she'd get another opportunity? Her breathing was labored, she snuggled closer. The fantasies she'd read about, dreamed about, wondered about, were as close as this man's body heat.

  Through half-lowered lids, she gazed up at him. Tall, sleek-muscled, sexy. His cocksure jaw shouted out his confidence. He'd probably given lots of women lots of fantastic orgasms. She exhaled, long and slow, uncertain of her next move.

  Maybe she should edge away, play a little hard-to-get, but with him holding her so near ... actually, he was barely touching her with those marvelous, strong hands of his. One rested lightly at her hip, the other at her shoulder.

  While she clung to him like her favorite dream.

  How in the devil had he managed that?

  Feeling wanton, she didn't pull away from his steamy body and the promise of things to come. And she planned to come. Sinner didn't look like the kind of man to leave a woman hanging.

  In need of a shave, Sinner's rough chin rested against her forehead, its scratchy tingle arousing and sensual. She sighed, catching a hint of his masculine scent, a woodsy aftershave mingled with whiskey.