Bare Pleasures

A redeeming passion

Ten years ago, rebellious corporate heir Alexander Diallo was living in Jamaica, a world away from his moneyed roots. But his youthful indiscretions have followed the successful computer engineer back to Miami. Now he’s being emotionally blackmailed into romancing a perfect stranger. The seduction becomes all too real when Lex starts falling for Noelle Palmer...and longs to turn the pleasure-driven charade into a more permanent union.

Being abandoned at the altar left emotional scars, and Noelle isn’t ready to trust again—even if Lex is everything she ever dreamed of in a lover. His sensuality and magnetic charm tempt her to let down her guard and open her heart. Until she discovers that they didn’t meet by chance. Can Lex convince her that what began as a deception has deepened into a love that can erase all the mistakes of the past?

“You look beautiful,” Lex said. His whiskey-scented breath brushed Noelle’s cheek and she shivered. “I thought about you last night.”

If she had any doubts about what he meant, the firm and possessive curve of his hand on her hip dismissed them all. She licked her lips, wanting to be reasonable and sane. This was the same man who’d had another woman hanging off him just a few minutes before. But this was also the same man who made her knees weak with just one look. His hand on her hip guided her back into the wall.

“No,” she said, although she wasn’t sure what she was saying no to.

“You didn’t think about me?” He stepped closer, like he was under a spell and couldn’t help himself, his eyes focused only on her.

“I didn’t,” she lied.

Up until she’d fallen asleep, Lex had been wrapped firmly around her very thoughts. Wondering why she wanted him so much, wondering if she could have him, hoping...

He stopped a few breaths from her. “Kiss me,” he said.

“What?”

“Kiss me. I can’t—”

Dear Reader,

I’m Lex Diallo. Former stripper, current software engineer and recent celibate.

Food, family and the favors of generous women are, or at least were, some of my favorite things to enjoy when I’m not working. I don’t like to tell people who my family is, but by the time I finish saying my last name and flash this gorgeous smile, they know I’m one of the Miami Diallos and very closely connected to their multibillion-dollar cosmetics company. My family’s money isn’t what makes me sexy, though.

To find out more about me, get deeper between these covers and come take a long, hard look. I promise it’ll be worth it.

Lex Diallo

Bare Pleasures

Lindsay Evans

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LINDSAY EVANS was born in Jamaica and currently lives and writes in Atlanta, Georgia, where she’s constantly on the hunt for inspiration, club in hand. She loves good food and romance and would happily travel to the ends of the earth for both. Find out more at www.lindsayevanswrites.com.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Alexander Diallo was taking a break from casual hookups.

He sipped his champagne, his back to the wall of the gallery where his sister was currently having her first solo exhibition, trying not to think how this would impact his social life.

“Hey, Lex.” His brother Kingsley walked up with a champagne glass of his own, tapped Lex’s glass with it. “Did you congratulate Lola yet?”

“No, not yet. She’s a little busy.”

In the center of the room, their younger sister stood surrounded by nearly a dozen people. Willowy and petite with big anime eyes her siblings often teased her about, Lola, who was two years younger than Lex, looked years away from being twenty-six. She wore some sort of pale green, flowy dress that brushed the floor, a contrast to her dark and moody paintings on the gallery walls.

“Yeah.” Kingsley sipped his champagne and swept his eyes around the rest of the gallery. “A lot of people are here tonight.” He said it like he was surprised.

“Why not? She’s popular enough and not just on Facebook.” Lex tracked his eyes around the room, not so subtly checking out all the gorgeous women not related to him. This resolution wasn’t off to a great start.

“Lola is a pretty girl everyone loves to be around, but that doesn’t translate to getting people to show up to things that matter,” Kingsley said.

An excited squeal caught their attention. Lola had wandered away from her adoring crowd and now stood near one of her more expensive paintings with a longtime friend of the family. A check changed hands.

“Looks like she just sold something,” Lex said.

Kingsley nodded. “To one of Mama’s friends. Let’s hope she can keep selling this stuff once she wears out the family connections. Most of her art-school friends are as broke as she is.”

Lex made a deliberately noncommittal noise. His parents were rich. Not as rich as the Kennedys or even Oprah, but they did well enough as owners of a multibillion-dollar cosmetics corporation. Their money, though, was not their children’s money, even with the millions held in trust for each and made available after their thirtieth birthdays.

He hated the assumption that just because his parents had a lot of money, that he did too. Over the years, he’d done a lot to distance himself from that belief, from the Diallo Corporation and from money he never earned. Not all his siblings felt the same way; hell, maybe only a couple of them did. Kingsley, the oldest of the thirteen, was their mother’s right hand at the company while Wolfe, the second oldest, had built a business of his own from nothing. Or as close to nothing as a person can get after borrowing start-up money from their parents.

Lex didn’t want any of it. He fought his whole life not to be just another Diallo trust fund kid. He wasn’t naive enough to think he was ever truly financially on his own. But what he had, except for the money held in trust, he’d earned for himself.

“What are you doing after this?” Kingsley asked. His champagne glass was now empty and he looked around the gallery with easy hunger. Like Lex would’ve done a few months or even weeks before, he was on the hunt for feminine distraction. “We’re all heading to the bar after the gallery closes.”

“I’ll come with you,” Lex said.

“Good. Maybe you can find a hot girl at the bar to take that frown off your face.”

Lex brushed a hand over his face, hoping that gesture, like a mime’s trick, would wipe away the frown he hadn’t even been aware of. “I’m good,” he said. “I’m not having sex these days.” The confession rolled smoothly enough off his tongue. He’d practiced saying it out aloud.

Kingsley laughed though, a sharp crack that attracted more than a few amused stares. “You all right?”

“Yeah. I’m just not into expending that much energy right now.”

His brother looked him up and down, wearing a smile of disbelief. “Maybe expending some...energy is exactly what you need.”

“Don’t even start,” Lex muttered.

His last four relationships had quickly gone south because they got physical way too fast. And after the sex was done, he and the women realized they had nothing left between them. Just sweat and apathy. Those relationships left him feeling emotionally drained and unbalanced. Not that he was looking for meaningful ever-afters, but it all became too much.

“Sex is fun,” he said to Kingsley. “But that’s not the kind of fun I’m looking for right now.”

His brother nodded, looking thoughtful. “But you’re okay, right? Nothing wrong with your...?” He waved his hand south of Lex’s waist.

“No, man!”

“And it’s nothing from before?” Kingsley pressed. Sometimes he took his role as the oldest Diallo sibling a little too seriously.

Still, a mutual memory from ten years ago flared between them. Lex’s incessant rebellion had frustrated their parents enough to send him off to Jamaica right after high school. Back then, he’d been the knucklehead son doing the dumbest crap just because he could. Taking his father’s car for a joyride. Bringing women into the house to screw when nobody was home. Setting other people’s property on fire. Things that infuriated his father and finally made his mother say “enough” in a big way. She sent Lex away to Jamaica for college and to learn better manners. He spent two out of his four years on the island before coming back to America and finishing up at MIT with a degree in electrical engineering and computer science.

“No. Everything’s cool,” Lex told Kingsley. So far, none of his bad behavior had come back to haunt him.

He took another sip of his champagne and then froze when a flash of long legs caught his eye. Very slowly, so he wouldn’t chase away the gorgeous apparition, he lowered his glass to get a better look. High heels. Rounded calves with a hint of muscle. A familiar heat snaked low in his belly and pooled behind his zipper.

He wanted to see more. But when he moved his eyes up to look at the rest of the woman, she disappeared behind a broad back clothed in a pinstripe jacket. Kingsley started to say something the same moment the woman reappeared from behind the pinstripe. She was in profile this time, showing off for him a body like a Coke bottle, thick thighs flowing up into a wide and round ass he easily imagined overflowing his hands. Her waist was ridiculously small. And her breasts... He licked his lips and gave his imagination free rein.

Kingsley waved a hand in front of his eyes, nearly choking with laughter. “Good luck with that celibacy thing.”

Lex blinked and took another swallow of champagne to ease the dryness in his throat. “I’m celibate, not blind,” he said, still staring at the woman. Her face was pretty in an ordinary way, red lips turned down slightly at the corners, her hair thick and straightened to brush just beneath her collarbones.

“Yeah, well, looking is just the first step. Especially if you’re gawking at her like that.”

Lex wanted to do more than look. Before his (now ill-advised) vow of celibacy, he’d have walked up to the woman, given her his number and definitely gotten hers. Then they’d probably end up in his bed later that evening. He slid his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter and deliberately turned away from the woman.

“Well, now I’m not even looking,” he said.

“Okay, Lex.” Kingsley just laughed at him. What else were big brothers for?

A sharp, brittle sound, cutlery tapping on glass, captured Lex’s attention. The gallery’s entire focus was moving, conversations halting and flowing into silence to pay attention to Lola, who stood in the center of the room with a champagne glass and a dinner knife in her hands. When the room was quiet enough for her to be heard, she stopped tapping on the glass.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Lola said. “You have no idea what it means to see you all here celebrating this huge moment with me.”

Lex moved closer so he could see her better. His little sister was growing up. Four years out of grad school with her MFA in studio art and a museum job lined up, she was doing very well. Lola had high hopes of making it as an artist but was being responsible and had a backup plan just in case those hopes proved challenging. She was definitely her mother’s child, practical while firmly holding on to her dreams. With people from every aspect of her life celebrating her triumph with her, she was glowing. Lex winked when he caught her eye. She giggled in the middle of her speech.

“I couldn’t have made it here without the love and support of my family!” Lola grinned and threw her arms wide, nearly splashing the person closest to her with champagne. “I love you all so much!” Her twin, Leo, pushed through the crowd to hug her, his height and wide shoulders just about hiding her from everyone. He kissed her noisily on the cheek, smiling, to the sound of loud whistles and applause.

Lex grinned, proud of how his family stood with and helped each other. All his brothers and sisters were there to celebrate with Lola. Yeah. She was lucky. They were all fortunate to have each other. An elbow bumped into his and he turned, expecting Kingsley, but it wasn’t his brother who he saw. His breath hitched.

No. It can’t be her.

The woman who’d caught his attention turned toward the back of the room, but from just the shape of her cheek and chin, the long and narrow lines of her body he knew who it was. Panic dropped, swift and nauseating, into his belly. He stared at the woman, noting the changes from the last time they’d been in the same room. Her face leaner, her clothes more sophisticated and expensive. When she didn’t turn back to face him, he began to breathe a little easier.

“You okay, Lex?” Kingsley was suddenly at his side and lightly squeezing his arm. “You look a little gray.”

Gray? He felt like all the blood in his body had dropped to his feet, leaving him cold and shaking.

“I’m good.” He threw what he hoped was a reassuring smile his brother’s way and then turned again to the front of the room, slowing down his breathing. Although he was positive the woman saw him, she never acknowledged him. Maybe she didn’t realize who he was. Ten years was a long time. He’d changed a lot since then. His face was thinner, his body less obviously muscular. He’d even grown a couple of inches since those days of being an eighteen-year-old asshole. He took another breath.

“Everything is fine,” he said, hoping to convince himself.

When Lola finished her sweet, if disjointed, speech, Lex pushed his way through the crowd to congratulate her. She squealed when she saw him, a tiny whirlwind, and latched her arms around his waist, laughing. Lola smelled like champagne and whipped cream from the bonbons she’d insisted on serving. “I’m so glad you made it! I thought you’d be working again.”

Lex had been stuck in front of his computers, either at the office or at home, for most of the past few weeks. The project—fine-tuning a program for national law enforcement to help track, capture and prosecute human traffickers—took up more of his time than he’d initially planned. It kept him from at least one family dinner—he wasn’t sure his mother would ever forgive him—and had him regularly estranged from his bed a few nights a week. It was still a work in progress, important work, but there was no way he’d miss Lola’s first solo show.

“I am working,” Lex said. “It’s all up here.” He tapped his forehead. “I’m great at multitasking.”

She clung to his arm, smiling wide to reveal her slightly crooked bottom teeth. “Hmm. That’s why you’re the smart brother.”

“Oh, you do love me.” He laughed. Three of their brothers were self-made millionaires and one was on the fast track to NASA. “Get back to your adoring public.” He playfully pinched her side and she fell into his chest with an attack of the giggles. “Kingsley and I are waiting to buy you a drink after this is over.” He could sense his brother just behind him.

“Okay. But don’t run off with some skank before then.” She wagged a finger at them both. “Where are these skanks she’s talking about?” Kingsley asked, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “It’d be nice to run into a couple right now. I’d even handle your share since you’re on lockdown.”

Lex made sure to jab a sharp elbow into his brother’s side as he passed him and headed to the other end of the gallery where their parents stood together.

“That was rude,” Kingsley said loud enough for half the gallery to hear.

Lex ignored him but was grateful for his brother’s foolishness and whatever else the two of them would get into before the night was through. He needed a distraction from the woman in the gallery, an unwelcome phantom from his past. He’d have to eventually deal with her and everything she represented. But right now was for celebrating. Right now was for family.

Chapter 2

For Noelle, food was one of the true pleasures of life. She cooked well and often enough to please herself, but when she was someplace that served excellent food or visited a friend who could burn it up in the kitchen, she was in trouble. So she tried to stay away from the food at the gallery opening because it all looked sinfully good. In one of the smaller display alcoves in the back of the gallery, some evil genius had arranged sushi of every conceivable type and color on a model of an old-fashioned Japanese ship. The ship was half Noelle’s body length and the rolls were replaced every ten to fifteen minutes. All around the barge, arranged like waves on an ocean, lay golden cream puffs bursting with curls of whipped cream and dusted with powdered sugar.

She tried to stay away from the delicious display but couldn’t. Her sister had dragged her out of her house, and away from Netflix and her pint of pistachio ice cream, to mingle with people she didn’t know. Something Margot was doing more often lately. If she had to be away from her extremely comfortable couch, she might as well do something else she enjoyed. Like eat yummy-looking free sushi.

After taking three steps away, Noelle floated back toward the sushi barge. The smell of fresh soy sauce and pickled ginger moved around her like a teasing breeze. She paused to stare at it and then looked away. And saw something else that made her mouth spurt wet with hunger.

What might possibly be the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen stood near the front of the gallery. And he was staring at her. His lips faintly pink and parted. Tongue tucked suggestively into the moist V of the corner of his mouth in a way that made her thighs clench. Noelle frowned and took an unconscious step back at the sudden and ripe desire rising in her to plump her nipples and flutter her pulse. The dip of her spine connected with the sushi table. This man was nowhere near the type who usually caught her eye. She loved the Morris Chestnut types. Dark with silky skin and a six-pack she could scrub clothes on.

This man was nothing like that. He was pretty instead of handsome. Skin like roasted wheat, a slender build and not very tall. He was probably just at her height of five foot eleven. He hovered his mouth over the rim of his champagne and stared at her as if there was no one else in the room.

He stared without giving a damn who was watching him stare. Which was why it surprised her that he caught her attention so completely. He was looking at her, not at her face but at her legs, his compelling gaze gliding up her body in a way that was as thorough as it was intense. He took the champagne glass away from his mouth and licked his lips, a wet swipe of tongue that made her tremble a little, lean back against the table to keep her balance. A man wearing a pinstripe suit walked in front of her, broad and cheerful, saying something about the boat being edible, and rescued her from her disorientation.

Okay. Chill, girl.

She pressed a hand to her belly and turned away from the stranger at the same time the man took another step forward and made a sweeping gesture with his hands. The stranger was still looking at her. She could feel his stare like a hand on her thigh. Unexpected and arousing.

“You okay, Noelle?”

Her sister appeared at her side with a glass bottle of sparkling water in her hand. Slender and tense-looking with her straightened hair styled in a razor-sharp black bob, Margot was dressed in what Noelle called one of her Jessica Pearson suits. A gray couture number tight enough to inspire the proper amount of envy at her slim body, expensive enough to inspire jealousy of her presumably large wallet.

She passed the water to Noelle without asking if she was thirsty. Noelle gratefully took the bottle even as she felt the stranger’s eyes slide from her face. Margot was so used to taking care of her since their parents died that it was second nature by now. She gave to Noelle before she took anything for herself. Always looking out for her little sister.

“Thanks.” She drank the water, wincing at the effervescence that bit her tongue and throat. “This has been nice, but I think I’m ready to go.”

“But we just got here.” Margot tucked her handbag more firmly under her arm, instantly looking ready to leave although she obviously wanted to stay. “Lola’s about to talk about her artistic process, maybe even invite us to her studio.” Margot loved art. If she hadn’t been yanked into taking care of Noelle when they were both so young, Noelle imagined that she would’ve gone to art school too, maybe even had a solo show of her own and been happy. As it was, she didn’t think Margot was happy at all.

“It’s fine,” Margot cut herself off before Noelle could say anything. “We’ll leave. I’ll take you home after you finish your water.”

Earlier that afternoon, Margot had unexpectedly dropped by her house to tell her they had a “sister date.” She’d barely given Noelle enough time to put away her ice cream and turn off the television before whisking her off to coffee and then the Wynwood Art Gallery. Another of Margot’s constant efforts to get Noelle out of the house.

“I have money for a taxi.” She put a hand on her sister’s arm. “I know you want to stay.” She didn’t want to be responsible for Margot giving up yet another thing she enjoyed just for her. Noelle opened her purse to flash a twenty-dollar bill and then a credit card when Margot seemed less than impressed. “I promise I’m not going to be stranded if you stay here and enjoy yourself.”

Margot was still as a stone by Noelle’s side, her version of indecisiveness. “Please stay. I’ll be really sad if you don’t.”

At the mention of sad, a muscle twitched in Margot’s jaw. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Stay here and soak up enough culture for both of us.” Although she appreciated art as much as the next college graduate, this really wasn’t Noelle’s scene. She preferred bigger spaces, more adventurous projects. “I’m getting a little headache anyway,” she said. “Tell me everything I missed when I see you tomorrow. Okay?”

Margot’s agreement came reluctantly. “Okay.”

“Good.”

Margot hugged her tight, squeezed Noelle like she was about to disappear forever, and then let go with a sigh. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

She called for an Uber and by the time she walked out into the humid Miami night and down the short flight of steps leading to the sidewalk, a car was already waiting to take her back to her small rented house in Miami Shores. At home, she only made it as far as the couch, where she sank into the comfortably worn cushions and kicked off her shoes.

She tossed her purse on the coffee table, knocking over a bottle of prescription pills. Without looking at them, she knew they were the antidepressants her doctor had prescribed. She was holding off on taking them, not completely convinced that they were what she needed. At least, she hoped not.