Kiss Me Book 1 Read online

  Copyright © 2015 by Chloe Parks

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Kiss Me Book 1

  Kiss Me Book 2

  Kiss Me Book 3

  Kiss Me Book 4

  Kiss Me Book 1

  “Carrie, I don’t think that is such a good idea,” Amy said into the phone as she tucked it between her ear and shoulder. She slipped the key into the lock and the door creaked open.

  “Aims, c’mon. I’m tired of you moping around the house watching those boring ass chick flicks,” her sister whined in her ear.

  Amy frowned as she cautiously pushed the front door open. The interior was dark. Her hands were shaking slightly, the keys jingling softly. Her sister was still rambling in her ear about something, but Amy had long since stopped listening.

  “Carrie . . .”

  “. . . And I really think that you should get out there and meet someone.”

  “CARRIE!” Amy shouted into the phone. Her heart froze when she heard something inside the house fall and shatter.

  “Amy? Are you okay? What was that sound?”

  “I—I think someone is in my house,” she whispered as she backed away from the door.

  “What? Are you fucking kidding me? Get back in your car and call the police!” Carrie yelled.

  Amy didn’t hesitate; however, she did nearly fall backward down the brick steps. She scrambled across her neatly manicured lawn and climbed back into her Lexus SUV. She slammed the door and hit the lock button.

  “I’ve got to hang up now,” she said.

  “You better call me right back. I’m on my way over right now. Don’t get out of your car and if you see anyone haul your ass out of there, you hear me?”

  Amy nodded, knowing that her sister couldn’t see it. She hung up and quickly dialed 9-1-1. She told the operator what was going on, and the operator assured her that the police were on their way. Amy hung up. She squinted into the darkness, waiting for someone to make an appearance.

  She nearly screamed her head off when a dark shadow moved in front of the living room window. She could feel eyes watching her and it took everything in her to keep from putting the car in reverse and flying out of the driveway. Moments later, a dark figure emerged onto the front porch and sprinted down the steps and across the yard. She watched as the shadow hit the sidewalk and took off down the street. Her neighbor’s tall fence blocked out where he went.

  Five minutes later a police cruiser pulled alongside the curb, and about two minutes after that her sister’s minivan rushed into the drive behind her. Carrie got out of her van and ran to her sister’s arms.

  “I—I saw him,” Amy sobbed.

  “You saw who?”

  She didn’t get a chance to answer as two uniformed officers made their way across the yard to them. They didn’t appear to be in any kind of hurry.

  “Good evening ma’am. Can you tell us what happened?”

  “She can tell you what happened after you go in and make sure that asshole is gone,” her sister snapped.

  “And who might you be?” one of the officers asked.

  “I’m her sister. I was on the phone with her when she got here.”

  “If you ladies will just hang tight, we’ll go check everything out, and then we’ll get a statement.”

  The girls nodded and watched as they pulled out flashlights and slowly crept up the front steps. Through the windows she could see the beams of the lights sweeping over the walls of each room as they passed through. Pretty soon the interior lights switched on, as did the porch light.

  The officers came out and stood on the brick steps.

  “It seems that whoever was in here is long gone. We need you to come inside to see if anything has been taken. We’ll get a statement.”

  Amy nodded and walked up to them.

  “I—I saw someone in the window and then they ran across the yard and up the sidewalk.”

  “And you didn’t tell us this when we got here?” the shorter, fatter officer grunted as he took off down the yard and stopped at the edge of the fence.

  “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Amy stammered as she hugged her arms around herself.

  “Well, you not thinking clearly very well could have just let the perp get away,” he snorted as he walked back to the front steps.

  “I’m so sorry that I was scared half out of my mind by someone being in my house when I came home. The next time it happens I will be sure to stop and ask him for a fucking photo i.d,” Amy snapped, hotly.

  “What Officer Cates was getting at, but has a shitty way of saying, is, did you see anything about him that can give us a clue who he might have been?” the other officer asked.

  Amy shook her head. “I’m sorry. It just happened so fast.”

  The younger and thinner of the officers nodded as he jotted something in his little ledger. He was rather attractive but couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. “It’s fine, just tell us what happened from the very beginning.”

  Amy nodded. “I was coming home from work.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m an interior decorator. I have an office in the city,” she said.

  “Did you set your alarm?”

  “I—I don’t remember,” she said.

  “You don’t remember?” the fat cop said.

  Amy turned angry eyes in his direction. “If you’re not going to be anything but an ass, you can get the fuck off my yard?” She turned her attention back to the other officer, who was smiling apologetically at her.

  “I have a habit of forgetting to set it. Roger used to get on to me all the time for forgetting.”

  “Who is Roger?”

  “He’s my husband . . . I mean, ex-husband.”

  “I understand,” he said, kindly, and jotted something down. “Let’s go in and see if anything is missing and then we’ll be out of your way.”

  The four of them walked into the house, and Amy’s heart fell to her feet. The place was trashed. The cushions on the couch were torn away and scattered.

  “Is anything missing?” he asked as she surveyed the damage.

  Amy scanned the room, eyes roaming over everything. Her television and sound system remained on the wall, as well as her DVD collection and stereo. However, something did catch her eye.

  “Art. My statues and paintings are all gone,” she said.

  “They stole artwork?”

  She nodded. “Yes. These weren’t ordinary pieces. These were one of a kind.”

  “How can you be sure?” the officer asked.

  “Because I made them.”

  “So these were your art pieces?”

  She nodded. “Yes, before I became a decorator, I was an artist.”

  “She’s been in art shows and galleries all over the world,” her sister chimed in.

  “So, your pieces are well known?”

  “In certain circles, I would suppose so.”

  “Would you consider them valuable?”

  Amy shrugged, feeling uncomfortable talking about her art.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Carrie said with a dramatic sigh. “Yes, they were. One of the missing sculptures that were stolen was appraised at being worth two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Th
e others were close to a hundred grand.”

  The young officer’s eyes grew wide. “Wow! Why don’t you have them on display?”

  Amy blushed. “I don’t particularly like being in the spotlight any more than I have to be.”

  The younger officer continued to jot things down while the fat cop muttered and walked around the room. “Let’s see if there is anything else missing, shall we?”

  Amy nodded, and they all walked through the house. In total, three sculptures were missing as well as two paintings. “He must have taken them out before you got here,” the cop said as he stood on the front porch. “I’ll be sure to get down to the station and get started on this. I didn’t get much when I dusted for prints, mostly a few partials, but we’ll see where that leads us, okay?”

  Amy nodded wearily. “Thank you, Officer.”

  He tipped his hat and gave her a wide smile. He walked down the stairs and turned to her. “And Ms. Jackson?”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember to set that alarm next time,” he said, flashing her a slow smile and giving her a wink. Amy couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The officer hurried back to his cruiser where his partner was sitting impatiently behind the wheel.

  “Mmm, there’s just something about a man in a uniform,” Carrie said, coming to stand beside Amy.

  Amy rolled her eyes. “He looks like he has barely hit puberty, Care.”

  “I would still like to take him for a test drive,” her sister said, licking her lips dramatically. No matter how bad the situation, her sister always seemed to make her laugh.

  “Come on,” Amy said, tugging her sister by the arm. “You’re going to help me clean up.”

  “Awww, do I half’ta?” she whined playfully.

  “I’ve got a whole bunch of wine,” Amy said.

  “Sold to the highest bidder for a bottle of that fancy Pinot,” she said loudly.

  Amy laughed again and together the girls went back into the house.

  ***

  “I don’t want to go, Care. These things aren’t my scene anymore,” Amy said as she stepped into the snug black dress and pulled the zipper up the side. It was a piece she’d only worn once before, but she loved it. The material hugged every inch of her like a second skin. The hem brushed the floor while there was a split all the way up to her hip. It was revealing, which was why Robert had forbid her to wear it. It had a single strap of Swarovski crystals angled over her right shoulder while her left shoulder was left bare. The back scooped dangerously low, revealing a daring amount of her back.

  “Damn,” her sister said, eyeing her as she entered the room and carrying yet another bottle of wine from Amy’s cellar.

  Carrie was dressed to the nines as well. She’d married a lawyer and was living the rich and comfortable life, while her husband traveled all the time with his mistress. It didn’t bother Carrie because she had her own list of lovers, which apparently now included the young cop on Amy’s case.

  Carrie was wearing a stunning red number that hugged her tightly. The back of the dress was high; however, the front swept down to her navel, giving a teasing side glimpse of her ten thousand dollar tits.

  “You’re going to be drunk before we even get there,” Amy said as she took the bottle from her sister.

  “That’s the fun of it.”

  Amy frowned. “If you don’t stop drinking now, I’m not going.”

  Carrie’s frown matched her own. “But you look hot.”

  “That doesn’t mean shit. The only reason I am even going is because you bought the damn tickets without even asking if I wanted to go.”

  “But you love art, and this gallery is supposed to be amazing. This new artist Christian Daniels is supposed to be the next big thing.”

  Amy leaned in and ran a finger under her lips, making sure her bright red matte lipstick was still in place. She’d decided to go simple with her makeup, by simply lining her blue eyes with black—giving them a slight cat-like appearance—and brushing black mascara over her lashes. The dramatic bright red coloring her full lips was more than enough color to suit her mood. She’d swept her mass of blond hair up into a messy pile on top of her head, curling the stray tendrils into tight springs.

  After making sure her full chest was safe from any wardrobe malfunctions, she turned and looked at Carrie, who was sitting on the foot of Amy’s bed texting like a madwoman.

  “Officer Billy says they haven’t gotten any leads on your case yet,” she said without looking up.

  “I know,” Amy said as she slipped into her black heels.

  “You know?” Carrie looked up.

  “Care, of course I know. It’s my case, he’s been keeping me informed.”

  “Oh, I knew that.”

  Amy just laughed and rolled her eyes. Sometimes it seems that she was the older sister instead of Carrie, and in a lot of ways she was. Carrie really hadn’t gotten a chance to be young and carefree before their parents had shipped her off to boarding school. Sure, she’d gotten into plenty of trouble there, but she’d married Jackson just out of college. She loved the pampered life, but Amy knew her sister was truly miserable.

  After grabbing her black clutch off the dresser, she screwed on her best fake smile. “You ready to hit the town?” Amy said with more cheer than she felt.

  “You freaking know it,” Carrie said as she leapt from the bed and tucked the phone inside her dress.

  “How in the hell are you keeping your phone in there? Your boobs barely stay in there.”

  Carrie hooked her arm through Amy’s as they walked down the curling staircase. “It’s all about positioning.”

  ***

  Amy pulled her car in front of the massive warehouse. It was at least three stories tall and as wide as a city block. A red carpet was rolled from the front door like a giant red tongue. A smartly dressed man rushed around to help her out of the car while another helped Carrie climb free.

  As the valet drove her car away the girls walked up the carpet and through the doors. The space was massive. White lights hung from the ceiling and were lazily draped over every surface. A large screen with projector was playing a video of some sort against the far wall. To her best count, there were at least two hundred people mingling around. A neatly dressed young woman carrying a tray of wine offered them two fluted glasses.

  “This is amazing,” Amy said, remembering how much she loved the art scene. Music played in the background as she and Carrie mingled around.

  She stopped in front of a rather impressive sculpture. There was a wide variety of art, ranging from paintings and sculptures to live art and clay. There had to be at least one hundred pieces. As far as galleries went, this one was unique in a way that flouted the traditional rules. She immediately liked it.

  Carrie had wandered off in search of her next conquest, allowing Amy to take her time and enjoy each of the pieces. She came to one sculpture which took her breath away.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

  Amy spun around and nearly collided into a man who had to have been every bit of six foot six. He was wearing a pair of worn and distressed jeans that were covered in paint splatters. It was in fact a contrast compared to the suit coat he wore over a vintage t-shirt. His square jaw was covered with blond stubble, but it did nothing to hide the dimple in his right cheek when he smiled.

  Finally finding her voice, Amy nodded. “It is beautiful. I would have never thought to use copper and steel in that fashion, but here it works very well.”

  “Ah, the lady knows about art?”

  “Don’t most people that come to these things?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Eh, not really. Most are just here for the free booze and finger food.”

  She chuckled, “Well, I do know what I am talking about, and the artist that created this piece is a genius.”

  He brushed his shoulder-length blond hair back. Typically she wouldn’t find long hair on a man attractive, but this was a ve
ry different case. “Would you like to meet him?”

  “Sure.”

  “Christian Daniels,” he said holding out his hand and beaming widely at her.

  “You’re Christian Daniels?” she gasped, her eyes growing wide.

  “I am, and you are at my party.”

  She took his hand and noted how the rough callouses that scrapped against the back of her hand made her shiver. Slowly his eyes glided over her, his icy blue gaze leaving her skin feeling flushed. It felt as if he was undressing her with his eyes, and what bothered her more was that she liked it. Her mouth was dry as she tucked the corner of her tongue between her lips and began to chew slightly.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Daniels. I’ve heard a lot about your work, I must say,” she said, turning back to look at the impressive sculpture—in large part to gather her composure. There was just something about him that was causing her to come undone. “The talk I’ve heard does not do your work justice.” Or you for that matter, her mind added for her. Keep your walls up; don’t let him in.

  He chuckled and grabbed two glasses of wine from the passing tray. “Thank you Mrs. . .”

  “It’s Miss and Amy. My name is Amy,” she said, taking the glass.

  “Well, Amy, if you don’t mind me saying, you’re the most beautiful woman in the room. I noticed you the minute you walked in,” he said as he sipped his wine, never taking his eyes off her.

  She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

  “The lady doesn’t like my lines?”

  “I’ve seen better lines on worn-out fishing boats.”

  “Ouch, you wound me,” he said, covering his heart with his hand, feigning hurt.

  “Somehow I think you’ll live,” she shot back playfully.

  “And again with the zingers. Tell me, are you a bit jaded in the love department?” Again he took a sip of his wine, waiting for her answer.

  “Nope,” she lied, “I just have an aversion to cheesy pickup lines from hot guys who think they can have any woman they want.”

  “You think I’m hot,” he said, smugly.

  She opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut when she realized what she’d said. She frowned and he threw his head back, barking a loud laugh.