Hot and Sexy (Some Like it Hot Book 1) Read online

  HOT AND SEXY

  THE SOME LIKE IT HOT SERIES

  BOOK ONE

  ERIKA WILDE

  Copyright © Erika Wilde, May 2020

  Kindle Edition

  Formatting by: BB eBooks

  Cover Design: Maria @ Steamy Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the Author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Half-Title

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Learn more about Erika Wilde

  HOT AND SEXY

  Joelle Sommers is very good at her job as a PI and bail recovery agent, but she’s definitely out of her element when she arrests sexy businessman Dean Colter in a case of mistaken identity. Because unlike her usual fugitives, Dean is cooperative, accommodating, and hot as sin . . . and not at all guilty as charged. But this bad boy isn’t so innocent either, and she finds it increasingly hard to resist his seductive charm, and their mutual attraction.

  After years of working himself to the point of having no life outside the office, Dean Colter is in the mood for an adventure. But being kidnapped by a gorgeous bounty hunter—one he discovers is into bondage, to boot—isn’t exactly what he had in mind. Still, it doesn’t take long for him to realize that being a willing captive has its advantages.

  Jo might be the one with the handcuffs, but Dean’s about to discover the key to unleashing the passionate, uninhibited woman beneath the tough, stubborn facade. And when he does, all bets are off.

  CHAPTER ONE

  For Joelle Sommers, success was sweet and heady, and almost as exhilarating as great sex. Not that she’d had any of the latter lately, she thought wryly as she settled into her cushy office chair and propped her booted feet on the corner of her cluttered desk. But today’s triumph more than made up for not having a man in her life. Sex provided a fleeting buzz compared to the elation of finally solving a difficult abduction or missing persons case and reuniting the individuals involved.

  A smile tugged the corner of her mouth. When she’d made that idle comparison to a girlfriend during an evening of dinner and drinks, her friend blithely responded that she obviously wasn’t getting laid by the right man, because the blissful aftereffects of a few intense orgasms could last for hours on end.

  Imagine that, Jo mused, unable to ignore the tingling warmth infusing her veins. She reached for a file folder next to her laptop and sighed. That’s about all she did these days…imagine, because she’d discovered that fantasies were so much better than her reality. Finding and wanting any man, let alone the right man, had become a tiresome quest that no longer appealed to her.

  Unfortunately, Jo could always count on the men she dated to balk at her working in a male-dominated field filled with dangerous scenarios. Ultimately, they didn’t understand her drive and passion for locating missing people, especially abducted children. And when they discovered she was an ex-cop and moonlighted as a bounty hunter on occasion, most felt compelled and obligated to lecture her on the perils of a woman capturing wanted fugitives. And how could she do such a thing without male protection?

  Oh, puh-leeze! She’d had enough of that overbearing attitude from her two older brothers. While Cole and Noah had learned over the years to tamp down their smothering protective tendencies they’d honed at a very early age, both still managed to interfere with cases they believed were too much for her to handle. It was a battle she constantly struggled to win.

  She couldn’t seem to escape the male stereotypes that dictated she belonged in a safer line of business, or married, barefoot and pregnant, so she sacrificed sex—good, bad, or indifferent—for the thrill of the chase her cases provided. A piteous substitute for carnal pleasures, she knew, but she didn’t need the frustration and hassles that came with involvement with the opposite sex.

  Nor had any man inspired enough lust or passion to make it worth the effort, Jo thought as she stamped CASE CLOSED in red ink across the front label of the file she’d finally solved. Now that was the kind of satisfaction that drove and excited her.

  A brisk knock sounded on her open office door, followed by the entrance of Melodie Turner, Sommers Investigative Specialists’ front-end secretary. “A delivery just came for you,” she announced, flashing a grin that lit up a pretty face untouched by cosmetics. “And it has the makings of a celebration.”

  Jo swept her feet back to the floor and sat up in her chair, eyeing the cellophane-wrapped gift basket Melodie placed in the center of her desk. Withdrawing the enclosed card, Jo smiled as she read the note from the Faron family thanking her for spending the past six months searching for, and finding, their runaway daughter, Rachel.

  It hadn’t been an easy case. The thirteen-year-old girl had left a cold, difficult trail to follow by changing her name and appearance, but Jo had eventually tracked her down to a cult just outside of Sacramento, where Rachel had been selling beaded necklaces on the street. Convincing the teenager to return home had been much simpler than tracking her. The young girl, regretting her rash actions and no longer feeling defiant and rebellious, admitted to being homesick and missing her family. A perfect ending with a joyful reunion.

  Unfortunately, not all of her missing person cases ended that way, and each one that did was a cause for celebration.

  Jo peeled away the cellophane to reveal the treats hidden within the basket. “Umm, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. Care to join me in a toast?”

  Melodie looked just as eager to sample the enticing delicacies. “You don’t have to ask me twice. It’s ten after five, I’m technically off the clock, and I certainly don’t have a better offer waiting for me.”

  Jo slanted her an amused look. “What, no hot Friday night date?”

  Melodie rolled her eyes as she lifted the bottle of champagne from the basket, along with two plastic glasses. “I haven’t had a date, hot or otherwise, in months.”

  Yeah, you and me both, sister. “Maybe that’s because you spend way too much time here at the office.” Standing, Jo shrugged out of her black leather jacket and hung it on the coat tree behind her desk. “This is the first time in weeks that you’ve stopped working anywhere close to five. And from what Noah has said, you’ve been staying as late as Cole in the evenings.”

  Retrieving the ceramic bowl of big, plump chocolate-covered strawberries, Melodie shrugged and looked away, but Jo didn’t miss the light shade of pink that swept across her cheeks. “It’s not like I have anything more exciting to occupy my nights, or a line of men beating down my door.”

  “Well, you certainly aren’t going to attract any male attention spending all your waking hours here.” Jo’s voice trailed off as she put two and two together. It seemed Melodie had a thing for Cole, and her boss had
no clue she existed other than in her capacity as his dependable, reliable, devoted secretary.

  Oh, man. Melodie had been working for Cole long enough, two years to be exact, to know that his interest in women ran toward the occasional undemanding fling—no promises involved—usually with sophisticated, leggy blondes who played by the same rules he did. Unfortunately, Melodie was the epitome of a respectable, modest female in her plain, conservative outfits, and possessed the kind of good-girl tendencies and traditional values Cole avoided. If those qualities weren’t enough to inspire Cole to keep his distance, Melodie was also the daughter of the man who’d become Cole’s mentor after their own father had been shot and killed in the line of police duty. Cole had hired her as a favor to Richard Turner and had come to rely on Melodie as all bosses relied on their secretaries, but the odds of him noticing her as a woman were stacked heavily against her.

  And Jo didn’t have the heart to dash her friend’s hopes.

  While Melodie popped the plastic cork from the champagne bottle and poured the bubbly liquid into each of their glasses, Jo unbuckled her shoulder holster. Her brother insisted she wear a gun if she worked for him, but Jo knew it would take the direst of circumstances for her to actually use the weapon. She’d learned during her police academy training that you didn’t retrieve your gun unless you were prepared to fire. When actually faced with that reality, she hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. She still felt a painful twist in her heart thinking of the devastating results—the death of her partner. She’d fucked up, and her failure had cost Brian Sheridan his life.

  Since that fateful day over two years ago, Jo hadn’t deluded herself with the belief that a gun would be her best source of defense. While she carried a weapon, she chose to protect herself with more controlled devices—a beanbag shotgun, a stun gun, a collapsible baton, and a black belt in martial arts. The combination served her well and gave her a semblance of control over her actions.

  Setting aside her holster, Jo picked up her drink and held it toward Melodie’s. “Here’s to another happy ending.” Their plastic glasses clicked dully, and they each took a sip of the champagne. Then they indulged in the juicy, sweet strawberries dipped in a decadent layer of milk chocolate, murmuring their appreciation for the delicious confection.

  “Melodie?” a deep, rich voice abruptly called from the outer office.

  At Cole’s summons, Melodie popped up from her chair, abandoning her moment of relaxation. Jo nibbled on a piece of fruit and watched in amazement as the other woman circled her chair and was halfway to the door when Cole appeared, a file in hand. Melodie came to an abrupt stop before they collided and looked up at him with wide eyes.

  “Did you need me?” Her voice was undeniably breathless.

  Cole didn’t notice, his demeanor strictly business. “Have you seen or heard from Noah?”

  “No. He’s been out of the office for the past two days on surveillance for the Blythe divorce case,” Melodie answered in her ever-efficient manner. “You know how bad he is about returning calls or texts.”

  “Which needs to change,” Cole muttered beneath his breath, clearly annoyed at their brother’s lack of availability. Though Noah worked for the company, he was definitely his own man and did things his own way. He was a drifter of sorts, an ex-Marine who worked when he needed the money, and played when his finances made it possible.

  Cole dragged a hand along the back of his neck, as if the brusque movement could release the tension radiating from his body. “By the way, did you finish the final report and billing on the Cameron case?”

  “I put it on your desk about fifteen minutes ago. All it needs is your signature.”

  He nodded succinctly, just as the office phone rang. Jo didn’t bother reaching for the receiver on her desk, too interested in seeing how this scenario played out.

  Another loud jingle.

  Cole lifted a dark brow expectantly at Melodie as if to say, “Aren’t you going to get that?” Too much a creature of habit, and too eager to please, Melodie automatically slipped around him and headed down the hall to answer the front-end phone.

  Jo licked the sticky sweetness of candied strawberry from her fingers as her brother approached her desk. “Jesus, Cole, would it kill you to answer the phone?” When he gave her a blank look, she added drolly, “Melodie is off the clock, or are you paying her overtime?”

  With a frown he glanced at his watch, obviously surprised to see it past quitting time. “I just assumed since she was still here that she was working.”

  That was part of the problem. Cole took Melodie’s enthusiasm to do his bidding for granted. But, Jo decided, that wasn’t her dilemma to resolve. It was up to Melodie to change her abiding, predictable ways and set Cole straight—both on a business level and a personal one.

  Cole’s blue-eyed gaze took in the dessert she was enjoying and skimmed over the card that had been attached to the basket. He read the note, then smiled warmly at her from across the desk, looking like a younger version of their deceased father with his tousled sable hair, lean features, and head-turning good looks. “By the way, great job on the Faron case.”

  “Thanks.” She accepted his compliment with pleasure and satisfaction.

  When she’d quit the police force and decided she wanted to work for Cole, her brother had been reluctant to hire her, not that she could blame him. Her past actions gave him too much reason to discount her ability to defend herself, or others. But her suggestion to specialize in finding abducted and missing children was a relatively safe field that Cole eventually approved. It also added a different dimension to the agency, drew a whole new clientele, and helped her absolve the guilt she carried over a past case gone bad.

  She drew a deep breath, pushed aside her thoughts, and waved a hand at the champagne and strawberries. “Care to join us for a drink to celebrate?”

  He shook his head, his gaze dark and distracted. “Thanks, but I don’t have time. Since Noah has made himself conveniently unavailable, I need to call Vince back and…” Cole’s sentence ebbed into silence as he belatedly realized his error.

  Jo perked up at the mention of the bail bond agent who traded professional favors with Cole. On occasion, Vince found himself shorthanded and needed a bail enforcement agent to retrieve someone who’d jumped bail. Cole was a certified recovery agent, as were she and Noah.

  “What does Vince need?” she asked.

  A scowl creased Cole’s expression, which did nothing to dissuade Jo’s interest. It never did. Her brother had a habit of being overprotective when it came to her. It had been that way ever since their mother had divorced their father when she was five, and she’d ended up shuffled between two households. As the oldest, Cole had taken on more duties and responsibilities than any teenager should have had to endure.

  “Spill it, Cole,” she said, pushing his hesitation.

  His jaw unclenched, but his hold on the file folder in his hand tightened. “A guy skipped out on his bond, and I owe Vince a favor,” he said with uncharacteristic nonchalance. “I traced the guy back to his Washington State residence, and I was going to ask Noah if he could recover the skip since I’m on the verge of cracking the Petrick case. But since Noah isn’t around, I’ll just call Vince and have him find someone else to do the job.”

  Adrenaline shot through her veins. “I’ll do it.” Standing, she rounded the desk toward Cole.

  “No.”

  She stopped in front of him, bristling, though she and Cole seemed to have this same argument every time. Her brother preferred when she kept a low profile and stayed out of trouble. For the most part, she’d been a commendable employee and sister. But she resented that he wouldn’t let her do a job she was fully qualified to perform. She’d never been afraid of the chase and capture—not when she’d been a cop and not now—and she actually enjoyed an occasional run. It appeased the restlessness in her, which she’d been experiencing too much of lately. The bounty she made also helped to fund her low-income abduct
ion cases, which was her main priority. And the well was quickly running dry to support those gratis projects she took on from time to time.

  She folded her arms over her chest, refusing to back down, a stubborn trait she’d learned from the very guy standing in front of her. “You know, for someone who showed me the tricks of the trade, you certainly have a way of making me feel inept, despite my training.”

  His gaze narrowed at her attempt to heap guilt onto his conscience. “I’m not trying to make you feel inept,” he countered. “Dammit, Joelle, you shouldn’t be out chasing after criminals. That’s why you quit the police force.”

  That wasn’t why she’d resigned, and they both knew it. But it was a moot point she didn’t wish to argue. “I need the extra money to help supplement my lower-income cases.”

  “I’ll help fund those cases. I’ve told you that.”

  “No, thank you.” She appreciated her brother’s support, but as always she refused to accept his offer. While the agency made damn good money from locating missing persons and other investigative services, which in turn fattened her own paycheck, she didn’t feel right about draining his finances, or the company’s, to support her own personal cause.

  Ignoring any further protests, she plucked the folder from his grasp and didn’t even flinch when he growled in response. Having been raised by Cole since the age of sixteen, she knew he was more bark and growl than bite.

  He dropped into the chair Melodie had recently vacated, and Jo skimmed the contents of the file without his interference. She found all the pertinent information enclosed—a bail bond agreement, a certified copy of the bail, a booking slip, a picture of the fugitive, and a copy of his Washington State driver’s license. Though the guy had committed his crimes in San Francisco, he apparently hadn’t bothered with a California renewal.

  She took in his statistics. Dean Colter, age thirty-two. Six feet tall and one hundred and ninety-five pounds. Judging by the date of birth on the document, he’d be celebrating his thirty-third birthday behind bars, since that date was next week Friday.