Page 1 of Naughty Desires

Chapter One

Lily

Ithud my official US Postal Service stamper on the envelopes in front of me in time to Elle King’s “Love Stuff” playing over the post office radio. With each postmark, I rock my hips, like I’m in the video dancing in the desert among upside-down semi-clad men.

Wouldn’t that be something.

But maybe it would be better if the men were standing. I imagine the men on their feet, handsome faces all turned in my direction.

Mmmm. Much better.

I mentally flip my golden brown hair, miraculously curl and frizz free, and run my hands down my not-so-curvy curves. Much can be achieved with a little imagination, including adding a few inches to my height. Maybe one of them should be wearing a suit—I do like a well-dressed man. Well, I did until my husband, Chris, lost his job as an accountant and traded in his suit for worn jeans, work boots, tight T-shirts, and a safety vest, and I discovered a whole new meaning of the word hot.

After watching Chris spend six months on the couch in a depression, my brother, Mike, offered him a job with his construction company, building the kind of houses we will never be able to afford. Six months of outdoor labor has bronzed his skin and toned up the muscles that had gone soft after years of shuffling papers around a desk. Gone are the love handles and belly that caused him so much grief. Now he has a real, honest-to-goodness six-pack and pecs that beg to be licked. Not that he would ever let me have a little taste. His libido died the day he was fired and it hasn’t come back.

Still, my imaginary men fade away until there is only one man. My man. The man I have loved for fifteen years and whom I think I’ve lost.

“Good afternoon, Lily.”

I look up only to stare into the face of a different kind of fantasy come true. Beautiful blue eyes set in a broad face, dark hair, chiseled jaw, and four days’ worth of stubble on a firm chin. Elle King, eat your heart out.

“Uh . . . ” My tongue flaps uselessly in my mouth and the stamper slips from my fingers. My lust-soaked brain struggles to register the gorgeousness that is Revival, Montana’s new dentist, Dr. Aiden Steadman.

I might be married and still love my husband, but I’m not dead, and Dr. Steadman ranks high on the fantasy list of pretty much every one of my friends—single or married.

Dr. Steadman smiles. I give up any hope of coherent conversation and raise my eyebrows in query.

“I saw Chris today for his annual checkup.” His voice is a soft, sinful rumble that whispers over my skin. Why couldn’t he be cursed with an ordinary voice, stained teeth, or thinning hair? Why couldn’t he have an over-fondness for beer, wings, and Sunday night football instead of spending his weekends playing soccer, running through Revival’s mountain trails, and lifting weights at the gym? This I know through Revival’s gossip queen, and my good friend and work colleague, the recently divorced Alexis Morales.

“I suggested he book an appointment for you, but he didn’t know your schedule, or even where you were working today,” Dr. Steadman continues.

My face heats and I drop my gaze to the abandoned stamper, lying forlornly on its side. How embarrassing. Now Dr. Steadman will know there’s trouble in our marriage. How many husbands don’t know where or when their wives work?

“My schedule changes every week.” I force a laugh. “Even I don’t know what it is half the time. I’ll give your office a call tomorrow to set something up.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He’ll look forward to it? As in, he’ll make my appointment personally instead of shunting me off to his effervescent twenty-year-old receptionist, Gina, who doesn’t seem to have a single shirt with buttons above her naval?

I am immediately swept away in a torrid fantasy of Dr. Steadman seducing me after he’s cleaned and polished my teeth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers as he runs a thick finger over my gums. “Nothing is as sexy as a woman who takes care of her teeth.”

“I have a good incentive.” I give him a flirtatious wink, and he walks quickly across the room and opens the door.

“I won’t be needing you anymore, Tina,” he calls out. “Lock up on your way out.”

“Her name is Gina,” I remind him.

“Tina. Gina. I can’t think straight when I’m with you.” He locks the door behind him and prowls across the room to the chair, where I am lying languid after my cleaning. I hear a buzz and the back of the chair goes down, down, down until I am lying in a zero-gravity position looking up at his handsome upside-down face, which is now looking distinctly like Chris’s face.

“I guess I should get going,” I say innocently, although there is nothing innocent about the bulge behind his dentist’s coat, or the way my breasts have escaped my bra and are almost touching my chin.

“Lily.” He swallows hard and his Adam’s apple bobs in a sexy way. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“I think you have a package for me.”

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