Wicked Gentleman by Christy Pastore
Release Date: June 21, 2018
Cover Design: Hart & Bailey Design Co.
My Fairy Godmother had a wicked sense of humor, of that I was certain.
The first time I met Jackson Hart, I was on all fours with my ass in the air.
At the time of our meet not so cute, I didn’t know that the handsome man with the most captivating blue eyes was the wealthy, charismatic, and hot as sin hotelier, oh and my new boss.
Well, technically he is my boss’s boss. Just skimming the company manual was maybe not the best idea.
But, I digress. Working at Hart Hotels & Spa was a temporary plan.
Now, that plan has changed. Jackson Hart not only wanted me in his bed and in his life, he wanted me working alongside him.
Some offers are too good to pass up.
Premium scotch aged to perfection, making money before sunrise, nine holes of golf and interesting conversation. Those are the things most known about me. Toss in a leggy brunette or a stunning redhead at a society event for good measure and there’s a story to amuse the public. But, my story goes deeper—to the past that I left behind.
Sooner or later past and present collide. I never dreamed Stevie Brockman would be part of both.
Looking underneath, the hot pavement stung my hands. “Stupid car.”
“Having trouble?” I heard a deep voice say.
With my ass in the air and crouched down on all fours, I must have looked ridiculous. Standing upright it was just my luck to find a pair of gorgeous, intense blue eyes staring back at me. Trouble, I suppose he was the guy Taylor Swift warned us about.
This man was incredibly good-looking. Dressed in a graphite grey suit that looked seriously expensive. My slow reaction gave me a minute to assess the situation, thesituation being this tall drink of water standing in front of me with the impossibly broad shoulders and a smile… well, that smile is where the trouble began.
“What was your first clue, my ass in the air?” I asked, shaking the remnants of earth from my hands.
“Well, the way your ass looks in those shorts, you did grab my attention.” His thumb grazed along his chin, a dirty glint shone in those blue eyes. “You want me to take a look?”
“You’re wearing a suit, should you be getting your hands dirty?”
“Just hand me the keys and if it comes to that I can show you just how good I am with my hands.”
“Key is in the ignition.”
“Let’s see what the problem seems to be.” Sidestepping me, he flashed that killer smile once again.
Did my panties melt and slide down my legs?
He eased into the driver’s seat and I watched as his left hand gripped the steering wheel. His fingers tapped against the wheel as he turned the key. Nothing.
He looked up at me. “I assume that you have plenty of gas?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I filled it up this morning.”
He ran his thumb along his jawline and stepped out of my car. “I’m going to get my car. I have jumper cables, we can give that a try.”
Stammering and speaking only one word? This guy was around me for two minutes, and my tongue was rolling out of my mouth like a cartoon character.
Shaking off my personal embarrassment, I slumped into the driver’s seat. My head fell back and I closed my eyes. “Please, just let it be the battery.”
I heard the hum of an approaching engine and my eyes snapped open. A sleek black Range Rover parked in front of my puny blue Focus. I wondered what his job at the resort could be. If I was a betting gal, I’d say sales more than likely.
He shrugged out of his jacket, removed his tie, and then rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt exposing his holy fucking amazing forearms. Gahh female Viagra.
I watched him obsessively as he unzipped the cords from the bag and carefully affixed them to his battery then mine.
“Okay, go ahead get into your seat, and then on my direction turn the key.”
I nodded and did what I was instructed. Seconds later, he pointed his finger at me and I couldn’t help but smile. I turned the key, but nothing happened.
Fuck you! I bent my forehead to rest on the steering wheel.
I felt his shadow looming over me, and I lifted my head to see him smiling. What the fuck did he have to be so happy about? Oh yeah, he drove a Range Rover. A perfectly nice ride and probably never had car trouble.
“If that’s an offer we can work something out, I’m sure of it.”
I stared at him confused.
“You said, fuck you—out loud.”
I felt the blush creep up my neck and spread to my cheeks.
I chuckled nervously. “Sorry about that. I’m just having a not so great day. Well, actually it was a great day, but then I ran into someone . . .” I snapped my mouth shut.
“Please continue.” He smiled again.
“Okay, you have got to stop smiling because I am having a hard time keeping from grinning like an idiot. You make me want to smile, and as you can see, I am having a rather crap day.”
He laughed and walked back around the front of the car. “I don’t know what is wrong with your car. Do you have a company you can call for a tow?”
“No,” I answered truthfully. “Do you have any recommendations?”
“Yeah, I might know a guy.”
“Might or do?”
He shut the hood of his vehicle and then wiped his hands off onto a towel. This guy was certainly prepared. Probably a Boy Scout when he was younger.
He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. “Hey, Liza, I need a tow at the hotel. No, a friend of mine, her car is out of commission. Can you send someone over to pick it up?”
riends? When did we become friends?
He ended the call and I stared at him, my brows raised slightly.
“Well, you did offer to fuck me, so I think that puts us on the fast track to friendship.”
“I did not offer,” I choked out, feeling somewhat shocked and embarrassed by his remark.
He shoved his cell into his back pocket. “The tow truck should be here soon. Can I drop you somewhere?”
“No, that’s okay. I can just take the bus.”
He eyed me. “I insist, let me save you the trouble of having to wait for the bus.”
This guy was quite the salesman. If I were any weaker, I’d probably have bought two timeshares and a month at a villa from him. “You’re not going to take no for an answer are you?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Go get your things. Be sure to grab your garage door opener, too . . . uhmm . . .”
Fantastic, now he was tongue tied. “It’s Stevie, and I don’t have a garage,” I tossed over my shoulder, lifting my tote bag and purse and then kicking the car door closed with my foot.
“Stevie,” he repeated, taking the bags from my hands. “Short for?”
“Nope, that’s it, just Stevie Nicole Brockman.” I had no idea why I felt compelled to divulge my entire name to him.
He smirked, and closed the door. “Good to meet you, Stevie Nicole Brockman.”
“You too, uhm?”
Jax. He was beautiful in the way that wicked things were.
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About the Author
***Amazon Top 100 International Bestselling Author in Literary Humor, Romantic Erotica, Erotica Fiction, and Holiday Romance***
Christy Pastore lives in the Midwest with her husband, lovable dog, Bailey and their crazy cool cat, Boomer. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Textiles, Apparel and Merchandising and Marketing. Writing has always been a part of her life. Her first writing gig was for a celebrity entertainment website. Later she went on to create her own blogazine and media company combining her love of writing with fashion and marketing.
When she’s not writing flirty and dirty books or updating her celebrity fashion blog, she loves shopping online, binge watching her favorite shows and daydreaming.
She believes books, especially love stories are an escape from the real world.