Privacy Policy

Seducing Seven
by MK Meredith

Copyright © 2015 by MK Meredith. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

“I bet I could have you in six.”

Sevannah Michaels, Seven to her friends, winced at the prepubescent voice and almost tripped as she stepped through the entrance of the Masquerade Casino. The immense balls of the man-child following her were amazing. Who would make such an audacious claim simply because he’d read her book? All she wanted to do was get to her hotel room and relax without having to put on a show. Her life in the romance writing world had exploded into the spotlight after her first book hit the New York Times best-seller list, and with each new book she wrote, things only picked up speed. She couldn’t be happier, but she really preferred to stand at the edge of all that light.

Her new “friend” had spotted her getting out of the taxi, hovered while she checked in, and adhered himself to her side with the sticky strength of a fly strip. His inability to swallow all of his saliva while he spoke not only made her appetite nonexistent, but her patience, too.

She smiled, or at least tried to, the action so awkward she couldn’t be sure it translated. “I’m glad you enjoyed my book.”

He sidled in closer.

Damn it, her smile had translated too well.

“I didn’t just read it, I studied it.” He stepped ahead of her, forcing her to a stop. “I’m Ted.”

She clamped her lips together and, adjusting her bags in her hand, stepped around him, making a beeline to the elevators. The problem with her was that when she was nervous or put on the spot, she tended to lose her filter, and she could hear her mother now. “Sevannah, think about what you say before you say it.” If only it were that easy.

She swallowed the first three retorts for Ted that came to mind. “Okay then, have a great time.” She couldn’t wrap her head around him studying her book. Her most recent best seller was a romance novel where the heroine used seven rules of seduction to make the hero fall in love with her. She’d never thought of it as a manual before, but with her lack of action lately, maybe it was worth considering.

She shook her head. There were all kinds of people out there, but hell, she was in Vegas, baby—the breeding ground of all kinds. But his insistence magnified the pathetic state of her own situation and made her throat tighten. She had to be the only romance writer whose life was void of romance beyond the words she put to paper.

Come on. Tapping her foot, she watched as each elevator floor number illuminated. The damn thing needed to get here before she clocked this guy with her bag.

“I plan on it. I scheduled my whole weekend to be with you.”

Her shoulder blades pinched back and sent an insistent throbbing up through the base of her skull.Oh God, kill me now. She loved her fans, she truly did, but there was always at least one who couldn’t see boundaries.

Leaning against the wall with his elbow, Ted winked. “By the end of the weekend, you won’t want to say good-bye.”

She needed a plan—this guy was not going to stalk her all weekend. Who was she kidding? She needed a miracle, or her favorite convention of the year would be ruined before it began.

The elevator doors opened, and her miracle stood right in front of her—at well over six feet tall.

The answer to her prayers was dressed in a business suit with the top of his shirt unbuttoned and his jacket slung over one of his very wide shoulders. Eyes the color of whiskey spared her a bored look under full dark brows as she crossed the threshold. If she could have gotten away with it, she would have taken his picture for her “hero inspiration” file.

She smiled and stepped forward with an energetic, “Darling, there you are.”

He straightened, his broad chest at eye level—whoa—and looked her up and down. Oh my God, oh my God.

With her heart slamming in her chest, she let her bags fall at his feet, reciting a silent prayer as she raised on tiptoes. Please play along, please play along. Oh hell, she might as well beg him. She whispered in his ear. “Please play along.”

She laid her lips against his.

With a quick pull of breath, he tensed, then, closing his arms around her, he pulled her up to his chest and off her feet. She squeaked as her stomach dropped. Angling his head, he slid his lower lip more fully against hers, turning her world upside down and then right side up again. With one final, lingering brush of his mouth, he let her slide slowly down the front of him.

Seven stood a moment, staring at the third button on his shirt, and blinked. Then blinked again. Where the hell was she right now? His low chuckle floated to her ears, but she couldn’t care less.

“What’s this?” Ted accused from behind her.

Damn it. Surely this kid hadn’t followed her onto the elevator.

She looked up at her new hero and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” Turning, she slid in next to him and gave him an appreciative grin. “Were you coming down to get me? Aren’t you the sweetest, thank you.”

A few other patrons stepped onto the elevator, forcing her to step in front of her darling. She held her body stiff to keep from touching him. She’d already pushed her luck with that kiss and wasn’t willing to risk his revealing the truth now that Ted had joined them in the elevator. If she could disappear and reappear in her hotel room, she’d never ask for another thing for the rest of her life.

Ted pushed through the crowd until he faced Sevannah. “What’s this?”

She spared the man behind her a quick glance—which was all she could spare without turning red to her widow’s peak. “This is my boyfriend.”

A hand reached around her and grasped Ted’s in a strong grip, if Ted’s quick hiss of breath was any indication.

“Blake Turner, and you are?”

The smaller man pressed his lips together and then answered, his tone stiff. “Ted Willard.”

Blake dropped Ted’s hand and lowered his to Seven’s waist, pulling her back against him. The heat of his chest burned through her back, and she held completely still. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

“If you want this to work, you need to relax.” His warm breath cascaded over the shell of her ear in a whisper, sending goose bumps down her neck and across her breasts. He squeezed her hip, and she forced herself to relax back into him, her backside settling against a hard ridge that only continued to grow. She tensed again.

“Easy. Nothing more than biology.”

His casual dismissal grated in a way she didn’t understand. Nothing more than biology? What the hell? Like any attraction to her couldn’t be anything more than simple science? She was an attractive, intelligent New York Times best seller.

And if she lost sight of that, she wouldn’t be able to make it through this weekend.

Ted narrowed his eyes. “This guy’s your boyfriend?”

Seven placed her hand over Blake’s at her waist and nodded. “Three months now, right babe?”

“Almost four.” Blake pressed a kiss to her temple and ran his hand down her hip and then back up again, sending her stomach into a slow, low roll. Whoa. She tightened her grip on top of his hand, trying to keep it in place.

Ted turned away. “What a waste. Four hundred dollars, and you have a boyfriend.” He turned back, wagging his finger at her. “You know, you really should inform your fans of things like this.” He pushed his way back through the crowd on the elevator. Once he made his way to the panel, he pressed the next floor in line, bringing the elevator to a stop. The doors opened and he stepped out. Turning around, he sent Seven a sad look over the crowd. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

And the doors closed.

Seven closed her eyes. She hated to hurt his feelings, but the one thing he’d missed from her novel was the importance of respect. Making demands and feeling entitled to her time because he was a fan didn’t show her that. No relationship could ever thrive without mutual respect. She hoped he’d find it one day.

Hell, she hoped she’d find it one day.

Blake’s hand traveled a bit forward and then back on her hip, reminding her of her present predicament. She wanted to pull away, but when Ted got off, three more people got on, leaving no place for her to go.

Blake’s hot breath flashed against her ear again, sending another slew of goose bumps along her skin and a hint of mint along her senses.

Damn it. She was going to have to get over this reaction to him—and yesterday.

“You’re not wearing any underwear.”

She stilled. “Why…what…” Heat ran up her neck, burning at her hairline.

His fingers ran over the fabric of her dress along the area the top of her panties would have been had she been wearing them. With nowhere to go, she pulled his hand around the front of her and gripped it between both of hers. The last thing she needed was this joker thinking he could keep exploring. “My vagina’s claustrophobic.” She slapped her hand over her mouth.

No less than five heads turned back to look at her. Oh my God. When would she learn to filter first?

Blake’s bark of laughter startled her, and she spun around to place a finger over his lips.

She gave him a strained look. “Shhhhh, oh my God. I didn’t. You—” she sputtered. Damn it.

The hands still around her waist pulled her in against him, that ridge she’d noticed before now pressing into her stomach, and he smiled down at her like an adoring lover. “I like it.”

Seven wanted to die, and she was going to have a very stern conversation with her libido later if her desire to press back against him was any indication of its attitude this weekend. What was wrong with her?

She put the blame on her ultra-dense editor, Nathaniel Hennings. After a year of soul-crushing failed attempts to get him to ask her out, Seven needed to get him out of her mind. Especially after her last attempt to get his attention. Her well-rehearsed, nothing-but-panties-under-the-trench-coat plan had yielded a verbal pat on the head and a buttload of humiliation. Well, the convention would have been the perfect salve—if he hadn’t decided to come last minute. Unrequited love was a bitch, but that kind of abject humiliation was almost lethal.

The elevator doors opened and half the people in the elevator stepped off. She moved away and found her own space.

Blake looked her up and down again, making her a tad bit self-conscious of her simple pullover dress and flip-flops. With her hair piled haphazardly on top of her head and her face free of any makeup, she was sure his opinion of her was on par with hers of Ted. Her face burned. She might not be showing her best side at the moment, but a little effort would wipe that smug look right off his face.

Pulling one of her bags higher on her shoulder, she returned his arrogant look with one of her own. “I do appreciate your help, but honey, you think you’re pretty smooth, don’t you?”

Shut up, just shut up. She would strangle herself if it were physically possible. She had the balls of a housefly, but couldn’t back down from a challenge, which she’d paid for time and again in her youth.

He laughed, an outright, aggressive laugh. His eyes flashed down at her conference badge, and he raised a brow. “Really? And how’s that, using Rules of Seduction?” He shook his head. “Seriously, it’s sad the way you ladies believe the crap in those novels. And I mean ‘novels’ loosely.”

Digging her nails into her palms, she swallowed back at least a dozen slashing retorts. How did so much arrogance fit inside one idiot? Instead of volleying insults, she studied him. His confident stance and challenging gaze told her more than his words ever could. A man like him didn’t become convinced through debate, but by action.

An idea popped in her head. Maybe her friend Ted had had the right idea all along, though he just hadn’t delivered it well. If she really believed in the rules from her book, why not use them? She could get a man’s attention, his interest. Of course she could.

And interest could easily turn into something more.

Seven fisted her hands at her sides and clenched her teeth to keep from biting this idiot just to wipe the smirk off his face. Her book’s success had to mean something. Unable to control the sarcasm her mother always warned her about, she said, “You laugh, but I could make any man in this place fall for me.” She stepped toward him and narrowed her eyes. “And he’d get the best sex of his life.” Shock factor. Of course, she just had to add sex. Because that was rational and well thought out, just as the interested murmurs and chuckles from their company in the elevator confirmed. She really needed to invest in having her mouth wired shut.

She held her badge in the air. “And yes, using this book. My book. The one I wrote.”

A woman raised her hand with a sheepish grin. “Where can I get a copy?”

The sooner he got to work, the better. And it wouldn’t be easy with his company sharing the casino with a romance convention, of all things. The damn place looked like a masquerade ball had fucked a Mardi Gras parade.

This weekend was his chance to prove he was ready for the VP of sales position, and though a heated kiss here and there made for a fun trip, he didn’t have time for any distractions. As soon as he’d stepped off the plane, he missed the tall pines and mountain views of the Northwest—Vegas was already distraction enough.

In six minutes he was supposed to be sitting down in a meeting with a client who wanted to upgrade his personal fleet of luxury sedans, and this little woman was going to make him late.

He looked back down at her, her brown eyes challenging, her small mouth pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t understand why he was still hard, but apparently his dick had opinions that didn’t take his feelings into account. “You could make any man fall for you? Talk about thinking you’re smooth.”

She mimicked his arrogant stance. “Oh, you have no idea.” Her eyes flared wide for a beat, then narrowed.

Blake shifted his weight until he leaned back against the wall. “Please, there is no way you could get any man you want using that damned book.” Love was a fallacy, and commitment was nothing more than a prison sentence based on ignorance. The idea that she could produce anything real from using the rules in some ridiculous romance was laughable.

“No?”

“No.”

“Wanna bet?”

Laughter from their audience echoed in the elevator. Her brown eyes turned more a molten fudge the feistier she got, and right now she was pretty fired up. He wanted to laugh, but one more chuckle might send the poor woman over the edge. He’d humor her, for now. Plus, he only had about five minutes left before he had to leave. “You seriously want to bet me on something so ridiculous?”

The doors pinged open. She smirked. “What’s wrong? Afraid you’ll lose?”

He pushed away from the wall. “I never lose.”

“Oh, you’ll lose this one.” Stepping from the elevator, she called over her shoulder, “This is my floor. I’m not riding in that thing all day.”

Noting the floor number, he glanced at their audience and then back. Clenching his teeth, he pulled his bag higher on his shoulder and joined her.

She was the cockiest little thing he’d ever met. For not being much over five feet, she stood as if she were ten feet tall. High time he brought her back down to size. “What are the rules?”

With a slow nod, she adjusted her bags. “I’ll seduce a man, using the seven rules the heroine used in my book.”

“Seduce?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know the word. And no worries—even though his seduction will mean I win, he’ll be greatly rewarded.”

“With what?”

“With me.” She looked away and then back, biting her lip.

His body tensed. She had to be kidding. “With you?”

She gave one jerk of her chin and challenge flashed in her eyes. “With me. And if I win, you have to buy ten of my books and…” Her mouth spread into a wicked grin. “You’re here for business, aren’t you?”

He stilled. “Sales. So what?”

“You have meetings?”

A feeling of dread washed over him, but he couldn’t put a finger on why, so he nodded, still not sure what she was getting at.

She jabbed his chest. “You have to pass them out to your colleagues at a meeting and sell it, legitimately, as a guide to close the deal.”

“Woman, you must be batshit crazy. There is no way—”

She threw her head back and laughed, then nailed him with a narrow look. “So you are afraid you’ll lose.”

Why the little— He fisted his hands at his sides. “Fine. Deal.”

The surprise on her face soothed him, but only a little. He had a plan of his own.

Lips he’d felt against his own only minutes before spread wide across the woman’s face, and she sent him a victory wink. How had he ever thought that mouth was small? His body tightened in memory.

What the hell? She wasn’t his type at all.

She turned to leave.

“Not so fast.” He checked his watch. Two minutes. He absolutely had to leave in two minutes. “What the hell is your name, anyway?”

With a slight pucker to her mouth, she studied him, then lifted her badge. Sevannah Michaels. “You can call me Seven.”

“Are you kidding?” What the hell kind of name was Seven?

She waited.

Stepping close so she had to crane her neck to look up at him, he narrowed his eyes down at her. “If I win, you have to announce at your last banquet or party, or whatever the hell you women have going on, that your book is a fraud, nothing but fiction written out of desperation and read by bored, insecure women.”

Her eyes flared, but she held her ground, though her hands wringing at her waist were interesting. Tilting her head to the side, she leaned back and looked him over. “Desperation is right if you’re the example of what the male masses have to offer.”

“One more thing. I choose the man.”

She stared at him a beat and then looked around up and down the hallway. “Fine, who do you want to—”

“Me.”

Her eyes went wide. “What? Hell no. No way.”

This was going to be the easiest wager he’d ever placed. He never backed down from a challenge, and he always won. If he could do anything right this weekend, it would be setting straight hundreds of irrational women. And he’d arranged it in four minutes flat. Fuck, he should be given a Man of the Year award.

Leaning toward her, his arms crossed at his chest, he wiggled his brow. “Scared you’ll lose?” There was no doubt in his mind she would, because losing wasn’t in his vocabulary. Love was not part of his vocabulary, not part of his reality. The idea of him falling for this little woman—not being able to say good-bye come Sunday—was about as likely as him becoming a male model. He chuckled. This was going to be too easy.

Taking a step back, she pulled in a breath. “I know I’ll win, so I hope you’ll be able to handle my good-bye on Sunday when I do.”

His chuckle turned into an outright guffaw. Was this chick serious? “Your good-bye? Yeah, I’ll try to handle it.”

Seven looked him in the eye. “Are you sure? I don’t actually want to hurt anyone here.”

Blake looked around. Surely there was a camera hidden somewhere and this was all a joke. “Lady, the only thing broken will be your pride.”

She blew out a breath and extended her hand. “Fine. Deal.”

He studied her, standing there as if she’d already won. What this little lady needed was a reminder of whom she was dealing with. “I was actually on my way somewhere before you accosted me, but every deal needs negotiations. Meet me for dinner in an hour at the sushi bar.”

She scoffed. “Accosted. Please.”

Looking at his watch, he tapped his foot.

Hesitating, she looked past his shoulder, then back to his face. “I haven’t even been to my room yet.”

He had one minute left. Stepping toward her and sliding a hand around her little waist in one smooth motion, he pulled her up against his chest and pressed his mouth against hers. She squeaked, and he angled his head, taking advantage of the small sound by sliding his tongue once against hers. Her taste was cinnamon and honey. He wasn’t one for sweets, but he couldn’t deny he wanted a bigger bite. He slid his hand down over the roundness of her hip, a lot more curve than her simple dress showed. There was no way he’d buy what she was selling, but this might be more fun than he first imagined. And Blake Turner always closed the deal.