"Sexy, exciting, heart-pumping, adventurous romance."
Reviewed by Tammie Ard
Posted March 10, 2006
Romance Contemporary
Kai Armstrong doesn't know why he's so attracted to Sonya
Drummond only that he is, but that's not why he's tailing
her. He was hired to get back the necklace that she and her
uncle stole. When he has to follow her on a seven-day
singles cruise, the opportunity to get the necklace back
and also have wild sex with Sonya is just a deal too good
to be true. Sonya has been single for too long and is
delighted when good-looking Kai is willing to be a sex
slave for the duration on the cruise. She needs some
adventure in her life, even if it only lasts for a week. After a night of the best sex either has ever had, Kai
departs the ship in Puerto Vallarta with the necklace
securely tucked away, wishing he could have had more time
with Sonya. But he has no regrets -- she got what she
deserved. When Sonya discovers Kai and her necklace are
gone, she goes after him, only to find him in a bar
pretending not to know her. Sonya refuses to leave, and
when the ship sails without her, she makes Kai agree to get
her back home. If only they could keep their hands off each
other. If Sonya was any other woman, Kai knows he could love her,
since he adores everything about her -- except the fact that
she's a thief and it's his job to put thieves behind bars.
To no avail, Sonya tries to convince Kai she's not a thief.
She didn't mean to fall in love with him, and knowing what
he thinks of her really hurts. TRUTH OR DARE is the perfect book for those of us who read
constantly. The excitement and adventure get your heart
pumping, the characters perform their roles to perfection
and, boy, is it sexy! This novel will share space on my
bookshelf for quite sometime to come. I highly recommend
it!
SUMMARY
Kai Armstrong has been secretly watching Sonya Drummond
for weeks. Not because her sexy curves drive Kai wild. Not
because her every move sets his body on fire. Kai’s
watching Sonya because she’s in possession of a stolen
butterfly necklace—and he’s been hired to steal it back,
even if he has to seduce it right off her beautiful neck… When Sonya meets Kai on a single’s cruise, she has no idea
that he’s looking for the necklace. She assumes he’s there
for the same reason she is: to indulge in a weeklong
shipboard sex romp, no strings attached. Kai is the
perfect candidate for what Sonya has in mind: Tall and
gorgeous with a dark, muscular body that just won’t quit. With Sonya, Kai finds himself oddly off his game. Her shy
blushes remind him of chocolate raspberries and her
shivers drive him out of his mind! As things heat up, Kai
must make a decision: Will he betray the woman who has
captured his mind and body…or give in to a delicious game
where everybody wins?
ExcerptKai Armstrong took a hard look around the apartment,
mentally counting down the remaining minutes left to
search it. The woman’s home was impeccably clean,
organized to the point of insanity. Instead of making it
easier, the neatness made it twice as hard to be thorough,
and dammit, he knew he was overlooking something. He could
feel it in his bones.The bedroom, however, was subtly different. Although it
was just as tidy, it was unequivocally feminine. The stale
apartment air was faintly scented with perfume, lotions,
and face powder. Her closet revealed conservative suits,
but her dresser drawers held the lingerie of a first-class
call girl. His fingers twitched against scraps of black lace when he
heard keys jiggling at the front door. “Damn.” Out of time. He carefully placed the garment back,
closed the drawer, and in three steps had slipped into the
nearby closet, melting into its depths just as Sonya
Drummond walked into the bedroom. Through the slats of the closet door, he watched the con
artist drop a couple of gift-wrapped boxes on the bed,
kick off sensible shoes, then shrug off a double-breasted
jacket. She sighed, looking exhausted in an all too fragile,
womanly way that no thieving embezzler had the right to. The little black number she wore was by all rights a no-
nonsense sleeveless dress that was conservative, sleek,
and professional. The cut hinted at soft curves and
somehow distracted from the career accountant look. Sonya unzipped the dress and started shimmying it off. The dress made a hushed sound as it slid down her body and-
--her thigh-high stockings were completely unexpected. The
lacy rust and black bra and matching thong looked sinful
against her creamy mocha brown skin. Her waist was small,
complementing the swell of her hips and breasts like the
body of a violin. Not one damned bit conservative! Kai felt talons of pure desire claw into his belly. The
seam of his jeans started to get snug, making him feel
like a slack-jawed lecher. Well, damn it all. . . . There on her slim neck was the
butterfly necklace he’d been scouring the apartment for! She absently touched the piece of jewelry, then walked
over to the bedside radio. Moments later, Kai heard
soulful jazz crooning from the speakers. If he didn’t get out soon, his brother was going to call
wondering what was up. Kai looked down to check his
wristwatch, then made sure his cell phone was off. He
nudged his erection to the left for comfort, but it did no
good. When he looked up again, Sonya Drummond had put her suit
on a hanger and was heading straight for his hiding place. There was no time to do more than hold perfectly still and
pray. She opened the opposite closet door---thank God!---and
placed the hanger on the rail, just inches away from his
face. The displaced air pushed her lingering heat and
scent onto him. Licking his lips was a mistake. He could
practically taste her, her essence lingering like an
invisible kiss. Forcing back the thought, he watched her return to the bed
and slide the nylons from her legs in a careful, practical
manner, probably so as not to get runs or some such thing.
Might as well have been a Victoria’s Secret model, though. How on earth had he not seen some of this sensuality when
he was building her profile? All those clocked hours had
only captured the image she’d wanted him to see, making
him believe that her car, her job, and her boxy, bland
business suits were certifiably boring and conservative. She’d mastered the image of prim dowdiness, from her hair
to her low-heeled shoes. Even her scent reminded him of
soft linen and fresh flowers. And until today, he’d fallen for it. This woman he was looking at now . . . well, she should’ve
been wearing cleavage-defining, curve-hugging suits and
musky perfume, and charging by the hour. Mentally, he took a bow, admitting he would’ve remained
clueless if not for searching her home. Almost a sucker,
but not quite. He certainly wasn’t in the business to ask why cons
committed crimes but to find the weakness that drove them
to it. And with white-collar criminals it was usually
their nature to return to the same kind of crime, which
suited him just fine. And now that he thought of it, embezzlement fit her Jekyll
and Hyde act. If her lingerie revealed a weakness, his
surveillance hadn’t caught it. Maybe that’s how she was
spending her money, though. Hey, food for thought. He shifted his head to the left for a better view and the
dress on the hanger brushed his cheek like a caress, the
scent of her diving south to swell his growing erection. One thing was for sure. If her secret sensuality held the
key to her weakness, it wasn’t going to be hard to come up
with a plan to take her down.
Home at last! Sonya stretched her neck, then absently removed the pins
that held her coiffure in place. Her hair tumbled past her
shoulders and she massaged her scalp, exhaling in relief.
It had been a hectic day at work and the last thing she
wanted was reminders that not only had she aged yet
another year, but she also still remained single and a
workaholic. And lonely. Horny, too. Normally, that didn’t bother her, but the horniness was
new on the pity list and, to her amazement, it had
steadily moved up the list to the number one spot. Happy Friggin’ Birthday. The fortune cookie that had been dessert for her Chinese
lunch had promised “A wild and dashing adventure is soon
to come.” In bed? Ha! If the Fortune Cookie Gods were listening, surely they
knew that her hormones had her all but climbing the walls,
yearning, waiting for sex, sex, SEX! Not the polite,
stilted sex she’d had with Paul several years ago. That
would be the equivalent of golf or croquet sex. What she
needed was some serious tackle football sex. Some hot,
sweaty, rough-around-the-edges sex. Unpredictable sex. The
kind of sex that loosened headboards and made animals out
of timid lovers. She sighed. At least, she’d heard there was such a thing. Her friends Julie and Lisa talked the subject to death
every chance they got. If Julie hadn’t gone to San
Francisco on business and Lisa hadn’t missed her plane,
they’d be painting the town red right about now. OK,
mostly her friends would be painting the town while she’d
most likely be taking notes. Sonya settled on the bed and apprehensively eyed the gift
Julie had sent her. As crazy as she was, there was no
telling what she was up to. Especially when she had warned
Sonya to “keep an open mind.” Sonya crossed her legs, reached for the box. Inside, she
found a card along with what looked like a plastic
butterfly-like apparatus. What was it with butterflies
anyway? Just days before, her uncle had surprised her with
a gorgeous butterfly necklace she’d finally worked up the
nerve to wear and--- “Oh, my goodness. . . .” At closer inspection the plastic
thing looked like . . . a sex toy? Sonya gaped at the
package for a moment before opening the card. What can I say? Gift certificates are too predictable.
This should be much better anyway. Fresh batteries
included. Have fun and try not to go blind! Happy Birthday! Julie The nerve! Sonya giggled. Were confessions among friends
no longer sacred? All she’d done was mention that her sex-
o-meter was revving high these days. How could Julie jump
to such an outrageous conclusion?! Sonya examined the toy more closely, then tore the wrapper
off. The plastic wings were pliable and soft, and it even
came with controls. She inserted her finger into the space
provided; then, with a touch of a switch, Sonya turned it
on. It began vibrating with a low hum. “Oh!” She shivered when the tiny tremors traveled up her
finger like fluid lightning. Moving the control lever
higher increased the humming, and by the time she maxed it
out, her whole hand was all but shaking. A delicious sensation snaked up her arm and nestled deep
in her breasts, tightening her nipples and kicking her sex-
o-meter up several notches. God! She needed to get laid
often and supremely well if she was getting turned on by
this clever little insect. A very vibrant, humming insect. Plastic and batteries. Who
knew? The longer she sat studying the toy, the more the crazy
vibrations against her finger thickened her pulse and made
her want more. . . . Would it be just as good against the
aching part of her sex? As it was, she was slowly melting.
And leaning toward myopic. And now what? The jazz from the radio took on a sultry rhythm, and she
balked, stunned that she was really contemplating using
the gadget. Hell, why not? It was just a . . . a thing. What harm
could it do? Better yet, what thrills could it bring? She counted to ten; then closing her eyes, Sonya touched
the butterfly to her face, cheeks, and lips, hissing in a
breath at the odd contact. The touch felt almost electric,
especially beneath her jaw. Experimentally, she took her
time zigzagging a path downward to the rust and black lace
that covered her breasts. Hey, that wasn’t so bad. Not at all. So maybe if she touched . . . Oh yes. There. . . . She
licked her lips and drew a lazy design over her bra,
moving inward until the butterfly lingered over her
nipples, delving into the valley of soft curves between. Oh yes . . . that was . . . “Mmmm.” She grinned. The sensations shimmied up her back,
making her arch slightly. Why on earth hadn’t she thought
to test-drive one of these toys before? She found herself hesitating with the butterfly against
her belly button, feeling suddenly prudish. Silly, really. The trick was to simply take action and go where no
vibrating butterfly had ever gone before. Don’t think about it. Just do it! She uncrossed her legs and tugged the scrap of garment
down to her knees, then sank backward into the soft
comforter. With the butterfly in her hand, she undid the
front clasp of her bra and pushed the delicate material to
the side, still debating for a moment before testing the
lovely tremors against her bare skin. Oh, Lord. It sure beat blowing out candles. She skimmed her other hand over her belly again and slid
south until her fingers made contact with the small thatch
of pubic hair. Catching her breath, she touched herself, delving deeper.
Oh yessss! Paul, her former boyfriend, had never cared to touch her
there. And before him there had only been those awkward
first- and second-base touches back in high school, which
were nothing compared to this. If a man was to master this touch, she’d be putty in his
hands. Hell, she’d become his sex slave, his love
concubine, anything he wanted. Her fingertips were already slick with her wetness, but
she kept the slow tempo, anticipating the spiraling rush
of sensation. She licked her lips and shifted her hips,
thirsting for a kiss that would never come. When the ache threatened to get the best of her, she
switched the vibrations into a higher gear, then brushed
the toy against her clitoris. The initial fluttering
vibrations simmered on her skin, and she gave in to the
sensation with a gasp. Each touch, each delve into her
wetness made her body flush hotter, sending shivers of
fluid pleasure clear down to her toes. God, she wished for a dream lover, right there, right now!
Hard and ready to mount! She needed the weight of skin and
muscles, of tangling legs and wide-palmed caresses, of
breathless, tangled kisses from someone who knew exactly
where to touch . . . Under her fingertip, the pleasure rose rapidly, and Sonya
groaned, tipping her head back and riding the throb of
each pulsation. Her orgasm loomed, whirling and racing in
her blood like a glowing surge of energy trapped inside a
crystal--- A loud ringing noise blared and Sonya jerked in a blind
panic, nervously yanking the butterfly from its precarious
perch. Disconcerted, her eyes darted around her until she
realized the noise was only the bedside phone’s ringing. She glared at it. “Goddammit!” The dumb instrument responded by shrilling back. She dabbed her forehead with the back of her hand, but
after the third offensive ring she snatched the receiver
and put it to her ear, prepared to vent. “Sonya? Hi. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” “Um . . .” Jeez, not the boss! Not now! The laziest two-
bit, bad-breathed, watercooler clueless wonder who always
seemed to think she never had enough of a workload. “Sounds like I woke you up?” Sonya cleared her throat, hoping her voice would sound
less husky. “No, I was just . . .” Reaaaally getting it on
with a toy . . . um, having my way with a vibrating,
plastic insect . . . riding an electric
butterfly. . . . “Um, unwinding.” “Well, say, I was just calling to see if you were able to
handle the Nelson paperwork I left on your desk. They’re
gonna send someone to pick it up first thing in the
morning.” Ugh! Such a micromanager! “Yes. It’s all taken care of.” “Excellent. Great. Well, I’ll be in midmorning tomorrow.
Crawford and Associates wants an early game of golf, so,”
he chuckled as if he’d cracked a fine joke, “I’ll be
losing to Craig again. You’re in charge while I’m out.” Yeah, whatever. Don’t call me at home ever again, you
moron! If there was ever anyone who could successfully ruin the
moment, it was Lester Werner. All the fizzing arousal from
moments earlier dissolved. In the span of two seconds, she
just knew what he was going to say next. No, don’t ask me
out again. Nooo! “If you’re free tomorrow evening, I---” “I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I’ve already made plans.” “Oh. Of course.” He sounded genuinely perplexed, which
summed up how amazingly clueless the man was. By the time she hung up the phone, Sonya was frustrated in
more ways than one. Alone with her butterflies. Older. None the wiser. Successful, sure, but even that
hard-earned achievement wouldn’t keep her warm at night.
As it was, the loneliness had begun to fester nightly,
forming a hollowness in her chest that gaped wide
open. . . . Her birthday was definitely not going to turn into another
pity party. She wanted sex, and in a more personal and
intimate manner than a tiny battery-operated vibrator
provided. Preferably at an exotic location where a
muscular cabana boy would serve her cute umbrella drinks
right along with hot, sweaty sex! That was exactly what
she needed. Sonya inhaled a deep breath, feeling slightly dizzy and
exhilarated. Hey, a birthday resolution! A raunchy fling? The idea seemed so perfect she wondered
why it had never occurred to her before! What better way
to celebrate entering her thirties than shedding her
inhibitions, discarding her old image, and becoming a
whole new-and-improved thirty-year-old Sonya! One who apparently wanted to do it with poolside help. She groaned and flopped back on the bed. It sounded crazy, but other than the constant loneliness
and sexual frustration, what was there to lose? She dabbed her forehead again. This was it. No backing
away from it now. Besides, it beat the usual try-to-shed-
ten-pounds routine she’d been promising herself on
birthdays and New Years. A vacation was just the thing. Somewhere with anonymity.
Preferably without interruptions. And who knew, maybe
after the sex madness wore off, she’d come back to San
Diego and hunt down a husband in time for her next
birthday. Thirty and crazy. Thirty-one and married. It was a plan. Sonya squeezed her thighs together and tried to ignore the
thick heat that still lingered like a dull throb between
her legs. She sat up and the bra straps slid from her
shoulders. The sight of the elegant vibrator suddenly embarrassed her
and she knew this wasn’t going to be the night to short
out its poor circuitry. All in good time. The thought of her boss was still
present enough to taint the mood anyway. For now, she’d settle for the comfort of a hot shower. Setting the item aside, Sonya retreated to the bathroom,
humming “Happy Birthday” along the way.
Kai couldn’t believe it! He felt as if he was trapped in
an erotic version of the Twilight Zone! It had to be every male fantasy: seeing a woman please
herself like Sonya Drummond had, making those small
moaning noises, seeing her body’s blatant response to that
little device. There was a carnal innocence in the way
she’d used it, in the exploratory way she’d fumbled, then
unexpectedly held off, looking oddly embarrassed. Man, he’d never envied a vibrating unit more! It didn’t
change the fact that he would’ve traded places with it in
a hot second, kissing her where her fingers played or
invading her with his body, with his mouth, until he felt
all her tremors dancing against him, around him, gripping
him. . . . Holy Hell, it was all he could do to keep from ripping the
damned closet doors off the hinges and storming her while
she was so thoroughly lost in the groove. Instead he continued to hold the closet knobs in a death
grip, breaking out in a sweat, head bent against the wood.
He peered out while the sultry images replayed in his
mind, mingling with the distracting perfume of her
clothes, damn near bringing him to his knees. If he ever found out who’d called to interrupt the final
moment, there would be hell to pay! He still was having
trouble with the fact that she’d stopped masturbating to
answer a phone call! Christ, who does that?! Sonya stirred and Kai leaned back far enough to watch
through the slats as she stood and strode naked to the
bathroom. After a few quiet sounds, the sound of water
came from the shower, followed by more sounds of her
stepping in. Kai eased his hands from the closet doors, took a
steadying breath, then stepped carefully out. His erection
bordered on painful, straining his pants like Italian
salami. Nudging it left or right didn’t matter at this point. He closed the closet doors and began to move away. The room smelled of sex. Incomplete sex. Don’t be a pervert! Move on! He hesitated a second longer, then left out the front
door. He locked it then as casually as possible and
strolled down the street.
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