Undercover Love

by Lucy Score

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

Revenge. It’s the only thing Ashley can think about after finding her supposed fiancé, Steven, with his tongue down the throat of the worst human being in the history of the world—his colleague, Ice Queen Victoria. Turns out it’s not the only body part he’s betrayed her with.

Humiliated and furious, Ashley finds herself being propositioned by security expert and ridiculously sexy Jason Baine. But he’s not just looking to get her into bed. He needs her help taking down Steven and Victoria and rescuing his family’s company before it’s too late.

Ashley’s a regular girl, a normal person. She doesn’t dabble in corporate espionage or illicit affairs. At least she didn’t until Jason… But now she’s in too deep and things are getting dangerous.

Release date: February 28, 2018

Publisher: That's What She Said Publishing, Inc

Print pages: 252

Reader says this book is...: action-packed (1) entertaining story (1) happily ever after (1) heartwarming (1) high heat (1) realistic characters (1) rich setting(s) (1) satisfying ending (1) sex scenes (1) strong chemistry (1) strong heroine (1) suspenseful (1) swoon-worthy (1) terrific writing (1) unputdownable (1)

Sample

Chapter 1

 

 

Yoga pants and a pizza.

 

That’s really all Ashley wanted, but it wasn’t in the cards for her tonight. She glanced at her watch as she hustled down the sidewalk in the breezy North Carolina spring air. By the time she got home, she was only going to have an hour to undo the damage of inventory day and get presentable.

 

She wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of giving up a much-needed relaxing Friday night to attend some cocktail-attire, back-patting celebration. She sighed and slid her sunglasses on against the glare of the late afternoon sun.

 

It was even worse knowing that the dreaded Ice Queen was hosting. She imagined that in high school Victoria was the manicured, perfectly coiffed Homecoming Queen. Meanwhile, Ashley had spent those same years trying to make her bangs not wing out on the sides.

 

She scrubbed a hand through her coffee-colored—now bang-free—hair. She was no all-American beauty like Victoria. Her dark eyes were a little too big, her mouth a little too full, especially when her lips were pursed in thought.

 

She had more confidence now than in her high school days but she often felt that familiar twinge of adolescent insecurity whenever golden girl Victoria was around.

 

It could be because the woman hated her.

 

Granted, she had never come out and said, “I hate you,” but the subtext was clear.

 

Ashley slid behind the wheel of her hatchback and eased into downtown Wilmington traffic.

 

She knew better than to voice her concerns to Steven. Her fiancé was a devoted fan of all things Victoria. They were brokers at an investment firm owned by Victoria’s grandfather…or step-grandfather. In the beginning, Steven insisted that his friendly relationship with his co-worker was nothing more than his ticket to a corner office. But Ashley sensed that at some point during the ass-kissing he really started to admire Victoria. Now Ashley was forced into uncomfortable social situations on a regular basis.

 

The metal bangles on her wrist jangled violently as she gripped the wheel.

 

Tonight, however, was no mere celebratory opening of the custom in-ground pool, Jacuzzi, and outdoor kitchen/wet bar—courtesy of Victoria’s divorce settlement from Husband No. 2. Tonight was a fancy dinner party celebrating some accomplishment of the grandfather.

 

Cocktails at 7:00, the invitation read.

 

The only potentially interesting part of the evening was the location. It was being held at Victoria’s stepbrother’s home on the Cape Fear River. In the most exclusive neighborhood in the city.

 

Jason was, according to office wife gossip, famously good-looking and equally scary. She was curious to see him and his home. Maybe the evening would give her some good design ideas for the store. Or maybe it was one of those chrome-and-white, post-modern monstrosities that bachelors who hire interior decorators end up living in.

 

She doubted that even scary hot Jason and his sprawling estate would save the evening. If he was in any way related to Victoria, he was most likely a sociopath in Armani.

 

But tonight was for Steven’s career. She sighed as she pulled into the parking garage. It was a phrase that was becoming more and more common in their conversations.

 

She thumped her head against the headrest. Things had changed so fast in the two years since her graduation. An engagement, a move to the loft, and a promotion to store manager at work. Meanwhile, Steven was steadily climbing the corporate ladder.

 

A year ago, Ashley would have said they were on the same page, a team ready to take on the world. And now…

 

Well, no one said life was going to be easy. Sitting in her car feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to fix anything. But maybe putting on a happy face and a nice dress might help a little.

 

She hopped out of the sedan and headed for the elevator. Spotting her neighbor, Ashley raised a hand to wave and then realized what the woman was doing.

 

“Mrs. Menifield!” Ashley rushed toward the elderly woman in the hot pink sweat suit who was attempting to maneuver a small-wheeled shopping cart up the concrete stairs, one step at a time.

 

“Oh, hello, Ashley! How was your Easter?” she puffed, yanking the cart up another step.

 

“Mrs. Menifield! What are you doing? Why aren’t you taking the elevator?” She made a grab for the cart handle.

 

“I was watching that Dr. Oz yesterday, and he said a good way to stay healthy is to take the stairs instead of the elevator.”

 

“But you live on the fourth floor!” Ashley tugged the handle out of Mrs. Menifield’s grasp.

 

“That’s how I’m going to get in good shape,” she chirped. “And then Mr. Morton will ask me to be his bridge partner.”

 

“Well, at least let me take the cart for you. I could use some exercise, too.”

 

Eighteen minutes and four flights of stairs later, Ashley deposited Mrs. Menifield and her groceries in the kitchen. “Mrs. Menifield, please promise me you won’t take the stairs again when you have so much stuff to carry.”

 

“But how will I get my stair workout in?” Her brow was crinkled with worry.

 

Ashley pulled the last items—a giant can of Ensure and a bottle of cheap rum—out of the depths of the cart and set them on the counter. “How about you take the elevator up with your things, bring them inside, take the elevator down, and then walk back upstairs?”

 

Mrs. Menifield clapped her hands. “That is a wonderful idea!” She picked up the bottle of rum and wiggled it at Ashley. “Stop by sometime for a cocktail, and you can help me measure my thighs to see how thin I get!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ashley hustled up two more flights of stairs and dove straight into a hot shower. She was toweling off when she heard the front door. A minute later, Steven breezed into the bathroom, ice cubes clinking in a glass.

 

He was a good-looking man in a country club kind of way. Tan and blond and lean.

 

“Hey, babe.” He grazed a peck on her cheek. She could smell the scotch and tried to remember exactly when it was that he had started ending every day with a glass.

 

Lots of changes.

 

“How was your day?” She watched him in the mirror as he shucked off his button-down and pants. He tossed them on the floor next to the hamper and headed, naked, to the shower.

 

“Great!” his voice echoed off the tile.

 

“You’re home late. Did you have a meeting?”

 

“I went for drinks with a couple guys after work. Pre-party party. How was your day?”

 

She told him about her Mrs. Menifield experience while winding sections of her hair around the barrel of the curling iron.

 

“Why the hell do you bother with that soon-to-be corpse?” He twisted the water off and grabbed a towel. “When we put this place on the market I hope none of the buyers run into her in the elevator. She’ll tank the property value.”

 

Steven’s latest idea in his ever-expanding life plan involved putting the loft on the market and buying a roomy place in the suburbs. Ashley had a feeling that Victoria had planted that particular idea. It seemed like Victoria had made Steven her little pet project at the office, always offering up advice for ways to “get ahead” or make the partners “take notice.”

 

The first time he brought up the idea of selling the loft, the argument had lasted nearly three days before she had agreed to consider it. She “considered” it to be an asinine idea, but also valued peace at home.

 

She ignored his comment and set her hair with spray. A little wild, a little tousled. Perfect.

 

He padded past her to the closet. “Hurry up. We’re going to be late.”

 

Gee, darn. She stifled a yawn and shimmied into the black sheath dress, her latest bargain find. It was a bit more low-cut than was probably appropriate for a buttoned-up kind of function like this, but it sure made her feel good. “How do I look?”

 

Steven hustled out of the closet tying his tie and paused to look at her. “You probably should have put your hair up. You know like…” He gestured around his head. “Well, there isn’t really any time to fix it now.”

 

He hurried out of the bathroom, and Ashley wondered how often other women had the irrepressible urge to flip off the men in their lives.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

Where Victoria’s suburban house could be labeled a McMansion, it was nothing compared to her stepbrother’s home. There was no “Mc” in this mansion. Wood and stone melded with complex rooflines and acres of glass to create an impressive, if intimidating, estate.

 

The circular drive was relatively empty except for a few catering vans and Victoria’s white Mercedes. Steven parked his BMW and glanced over at Ashley. “Okay, remember what we talked about?”

 

She cleared her throat. “Compliment Victoria on the caterer’s display and then act surprised when she says it was her plan.”

 

He nodded. “And?”

 

“If any board members talk to me, I should work the conversation around to you and the volunteering you did in school.”

 

“Good girl.”

 

“I don’t know if fraternity car washes count…”

 

But he was already getting out of the car.

 

They were greeted by a uniformed member of the catering staff. Only Victoria would hire a door-opener, Ashley thought, squelching the need to execute an eye-roll.

 

“There you are, Steven!” The door-opener-hirer clicked impressively down the hallway in towering Louboutins. Ashley didn’t have to like the woman to covet her footwear. Her honey blonde hair was artfully styled in a French twist, and she was poured into a striking red cocktail dress several degrees fancier than Ashley’s. Her face was annoyingly flawless.

 

“Oh, hello.” Victoria’s voice cooled considerably as she paused long enough to run her gaze over Ashley. “That’s an…interesting dress.”

 

Asshole. “Thanks.”

 

Victoria turned her attention back to Steven, shutting Ashley out of the conversation. Ashley tuned them out as they chattered, studying the interior instead. It was the opposite of Victoria’s polar icehouse of glossy white marble and ecru walls. Here, dark woods and deep colors reigned. It was masculine, tasteful. According to Google Maps, the entire back of the house had some spectacular river views.

 

Ashley trailed her fingers over the stately entryway table. It was a fantastic piece, slightly distressed and undeniably sexy in its bulk and lines. Something that would sell in a day at Dwell. Victoria’s stepbrother either had excellent taste or an excellent decorator.

 

A door down the hallway opened, and she froze in place.

 

The man who stepped out was easily the most beautiful person she had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had thick, dark hair and a stride that ate up the distance between them.

 

Power, confidence, perfection.

 

Ashley shut her mouth, which had unfortunately fallen open. He entered the foyer, and she was treated to a closer look. Sculpted bones and a strong jaw under a ruthlessly trimmed beard. Sharp angles and smooth planes. It all blended into a face fit for an angel. A fallen one.

 

No wonder the office wives fanned themselves when they talked about him.

 

He wore the tailored charcoal suit with careless comfort. His silk tie had thin stripes of forest green that matched his piercing eyes. Piercing eyes that she could see clearly because the man had stopped less than a foot away from her. Crap.

 

She tried to rearrange her features into a serene expression, or at least one that looked less pained. He watched her intently, not speaking.

 

“There you are, Jason.” Victoria’s bitchy tone from the opposite side of the foyer cut through Ashley’s haze. “Steven, this is our host, Jason.”

 

The Adonis extended his hand to Ashley and—with only a second’s hesitation—she mechanically placed hers in his warm, strong grip. It wasn’t a handshake, she thought as he tugged her a half step closer. It was a suggestion.

 

“Hello.” His voice was like whiskey. Smooth with a slow burn that lit her up from the inside.

 

She felt a jolt travel up her arm. She was holding a live current.

 

“Hi.” It came out as part squeak and part whisper.

 

“Jason!” Victoria barked.

 

Ashley watched as a cloud, shades darker than irritation, passed through those emerald eyes.

 

He shifted his gaze from her flushed face to his stepsister, still holding Ashley’s hand firmly in his. “Yes, Vicky?” His eyebrow raised mockingly.

 

If killer bees could shoot out of eyes, Ashley was pretty sure Jason would have been anaphylactic on the word “Vicky.”

 

“This is, Steven,” Victoria repeated.

 

“Hello, Steven.” He managed to sound both disinterested and dangerous. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

Steven must have sensed the same in his tone because he laughed nervously. “Don’t believe everything your sister tells you,” he joked.

 

“Stepsister,” Jason corrected crisply. He immediately turned his attention back to Ashley. She felt her cheeks flush. “And you are?” His tone was lower, warmer now.

 

She cleared her throat. “I’m Ashley.”

 

“Steven’s fiancée,” Victoria said pointedly.

 

Jason ignored her. He brought his other hand to cover their joined ones. “A pleasure.”

 

Why did that sound like a threat? And why was she suddenly picturing sheet-shredding sex?

 

Then, just as suddenly, he released her and turned on one heel. Ashley sagged against the table and blew out her breath.

 

“Friendly guy,” Steven joked, and Ashley could tell he wasn’t happy with the dismissive treatment.

 

Blatantly rude. Blazingly sexy. He obviously didn’t think highly of Victoria either. Who was he? Enemy or ally?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Once the guests began to arrive, Ashley busied herself making small talk. She was used to being on her own at these events. Steven found it easier to work a room without her tagging along, which was fine. There were only so many times she could listen to the “deal that came down to the bet on the ninth hole” story.

 

“Ashley! You look great!” A lovely woman with a short, dark pixie haircut that only approximately one percent of the world’s population could pull off approached. She gave Ashley a quick hug.

 

“Cara! I’m so glad to see you.” Ashley returned the hug. “I wasn’t sure if you and Kevin were coming tonight.”

 

Cara’s husband, Kevin, worked with Steven at the firm. Cara was an attorney with a hefty caseload of pro bono work. She also ran marathons and volunteered at her daughter’s school once a week. At five foot nine with enviable fashion sense, she could have easily been a willowy runway model. Tonight’s ensemble was a sexy eggplant wrap dress that complemented her flawless ebony skin and a chunky, mixed metal necklace with matching chandelier earrings. Cara was never short on wow factor.

 

“We can’t stay long. The sitter has to leave early. She’s got SATs in the morning. Are you here for the duration?”

 

“It looks that way. We even came early so Steven could give Victoria a hand with the party prep. So, I imagine I’m here forever.”

 

“Watch out for that one,” Cara said, pointing a manicured finger toward Victoria, who was chatting with a small knot of people near the doorway. “She’s a monster.”

 

“I feel my fight or flight instincts kick in every time she looks in my direction,” Ashley joked.

 

“I’m serious, Ashley. Victoria Van Camp is a sociopath. There is nothing human about that woman.”

 

“Steven keeps assuring me that she’s a wonderful person who doesn’t hate my guts. I’m kind of glad to know that someone else gets the same vibe from her.”

 

“It’s no vibe. You listen to those instincts,” warned Cara. “Victoria has a history of setting her sights on a man, seducing him, and then discarding him. Three years ago, she started on Kevin.”

 

“Kevin? Your Kevin?” He fit the tall, dark, and handsome bill perfectly and from all appearances was head over heels in love with Cara and their daughter.

 

“She underestimated him, and she certainly underestimated me. I wasn’t about to let some bored socialite turn my husband into a play toy. She didn’t take it well. She went to HR and complained that Kevin was sexually harassing her. The complaint was unfounded, obviously, but he still was suspended for a week while they investigated and the investigation stays on his record.”

 

Ashley’s jaw dropped and she couldn’t help but stare at Victoria.

 

“You look shocked.”

 

“I just thought she was a bitch.”

 

“Well, she’s definitely that, too.”

 

“How can you be in the same room with her? I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from slapping the martini out of her hand and punching her in the face.”