More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4) Read online

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  More | Sierra Kincade

  Praise for The Body Works Trilogy

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  The National Domestic Violence Hotline: | 1-800-799-7233 | http://www.thehotline.org

  About the Author

  More from Sierra Kincade

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  Sierra Kincade

  Praise for The Body Works Trilogy

  “Funny, sweet, suspenseful, and smoking hot!”

  —New York Times Bestselling Author, Beth Kery

  “Strong, captivating writing makes for sexy banter between the couple that ignites the text and their bedroom scenes. Verdict: Kincade skillfully imbues her novel with elements of tension, sexual and otherwise. A taut, erotic thriller.”

  —Library Journal, Starred Review

  “Kincade’s contemporary debut is full of pleasant surprises. Alec isn’t a stereotypical, misunderstood “bad boy” or a law enforcement officer working undercover. He has made some serious mistakes, but he’s motivated to change when he starts falling for Anna. She lugs around her own emotional baggage, but her decision to trust Alec and their torrid chemistry will keep readers paging along.”

  —Publisher’s Weekly

  “Grabbed me from the very beginning. To say [Anna] is one of my favorite female MC’s would be an understatement. I LOVE her.”

  —Bibliobelles, 5 Star Review

  “I was on the edge of my seat, fanning myself through most of this book. It is THAT hot!”

  —Raw Books, 5 Star Review

  “Filled with intrigue, lies, secrets and enough sweaty sex that I felt like I needed a cold shower when I was done, The Masseuse was a smart and fantastic surprise.”

  —Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

  “I went in thinking The Masseuse was going to be a sexy, steamy novel about just that (a masseuse). But I was beyond ecstatic when I realized it was that and much more.”

  —Book Crush Book Reviews

  “An absolutely INTOXICATING read! Full of so much intrigue and raw sexuality, The Distraction, book two in the amazing Body Works Trilogy, had me falling head over heals for these complex, beautiful characters. With such a nail-biting story line and some of the most intense sex scenes I have ever read, this series is becoming one of my all-time favorites!”

  —Shayna Renee’s Spicy Reads, 5 Stars

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  Copyright © 2016 Sierra Kincade

  Cover Design by Jenny Zemanek of Seedlings Design Studio

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For everyone who wanted more from Anna, Alec, Mike, and of course, Amy. Thank you.

  Chapter One

  Amy displayed the dresses hanging on the back of the break room door at Rave Salon with all the flourish of a punk rock Vanna White. In her plaid Catholic schoolgirl skirt and lacy black corset, she unveiled the first from behind the plastic sheath. It was an off-the-shoulder teal number that clung around the hips and then fanned out near the knees. She’d tacked a thin swatch of netting over the opposite shoulder, and fastened it on the side with a seashell brooch she’d picked up at an antique shop.

  “Oh, um...wow,” said the black-haired gypsy across the table, looking up from her most current wedding magazine with raised brows. For the last few months Anna had been tearing out pages and placing them into piles. One she’d entitled “Cool Ideas.” Another, “IF I DON’T HAVE THIS I WILL DIE.” The last was stacked with pictures of lingerie and ads for sex toys. She called that pile her “Lucky Alec” pile.

  He was lucky. He was the luckiest guy in whole damn world. Amy’s BFF had gone through the wringer and was the best girl she knew. If he fucked with her, Amy was going to stab him with a sharp pair of scissors.

  “Okay, next,” said Amy, pulling back down the plastic cover.

  “No, wait,” said Anna, closing the magazine. “I like it, it’s just...” She tapped her bottom lip with one finger.

  “It’s the seashell, isn’t it?” asked Amy. “Too mermaidy.”

  “A little too mermaidy,” Anna agreed. “Even for a beach wedding.”

  “Agreed,” said Amy. “Next.”

  She rotated the hangers to the next cloak bag, and stepped to the other side, giving a big dramatic wave of her arm before revealing the next dress.

  “Ooh!” Anna clapped her hands, bringing a smile to Amy’s face. The dress was sunshine yellow, layered with crinkly chiffon, and gathered around the neck by a braided string of pearls Amy had just finished gluing together last night. It was a little shorter than she normally wore—her ex would have had a thing or two to say about that—but he wasn’t here and she didn’t care. It was fun and flirty, and that was who she was now.

  “I love it,” said Anna. “Love, love, love. And Mike’s going to love it, too.”

  The heat crept up Amy’s neck at the mention of Alec’s best man, and her current roommate. At least forty-seven times a day she imagined they were more, but facts were facts. Any chance she’d had with him had blown up a month ago when he’d kissed her, and she’d made a grand escape into his closet.

  Anna was cackling. “You’re going to look hot. Just try not to upstage the bride.”

  Amy snorted. “I’ll try not to.”

  Drawing the attention away from Anna would have been impossible. The girl stepped into a room and every face turned her way. Sometimes people did that with Amy, too, but usually because she was wearing something outrageous, like the pigtails with pink extensions she wore today. It didn’t bother her that she wasn’t as naturally beautiful as her best friend. Amy knew where she stood. She was a furnished condo on the scale of shack to mansion, and there was nothing wrong with that.

  “Do I get to see the next one?” asked Anna.

  “But of course.” Amy shifted the dresses again, and pulled back the plastic covering on the third dress. It was a conservative, plain black shift, only deco
rated by a chunky white belt.

  “Um, isn’t that your funeral dress?” Anna asked.

  “Yes,” said Amy. “I really wanted you to choose one of the other two. This is me helping you narrow down your options.”

  “That’s so nice of you.”

  “I know,” said Amy. “You’re welcome. I’m an excellent bridesmaid.”

  “Maid of honor,” corrected Anna.

  “I’ve never been a maid of honor,” said Amy, trying to look distinguished. It didn’t matter if Amy had been designated as such because she was the only person on Anna’s side, she was going to make her friend proud. “I’d like a badge to avoid any confusion. Preferably something silver, gold doesn’t really do me any favors.”

  Anna snorted. “Your mom will love that.”

  “Oh yeah she will,” said Amy, rolling her eyes. “Why did you invite her again?” Her mother wasn’t exactly the relax-at-a-casual-beach-wedding type. Even with the date now rapidly approaching, she continued to ask why Anna hadn’t reserved the yacht club.

  Because Anna didn’t walk around with a stick up her ass, Mom, that was why. And because money didn’t grow on trees for everyone, Amy included.

  Amy tried to imagine what her mother would say if she found out Amy and Paisley were staying under Mike’s roof. She felt tired even thinking about it. If there was any way to avoid that conversation, she was going to take it.

  “Candace isn’t that bad.” Anna chuckled. “Okay, she’s kind of that bad, but still. She’s my best friend’s mom.”

  “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Anna tucked all her magazine pictures in a large envelope, putting the Lucky Alec ads on top. Her mouth quirked into a little grin that made Amy’s eyes turn a slightly darker shade of green.

  She wasn’t jealous of marriage. Been there, done that.

  But the way Alec wanted Anna, that was a different story. It would have been nice to be wanted like that, even for a little while.

  “I can’t believe it’s less than a month away,” said Anna in a dreamy voice. “Pretty soon he’ll be Mr. Anna Rossi.”

  Now it was Amy’s turn to laugh. She had a hard time picturing manly man Alec Flynn taking Anna’s name, despite how head over heels the poor guy was. Still, she couldn’t help but get caught up in the momentum. Anna’s dress was ready, the beachfront gazebo reserved, and Alec’s friend Mac was doing both the catering and officiating. Anna didn’t really need to keep chasing ideas from the magazines, but kept an eye out, just in case she happened upon something too good to pass up.

  “What are the girls wearing?” Anna asked.

  Amy’s daughter, Paisley, and Mike’s daughter, Chloe, were flower girls. Chloe had just turned seven, and Paisley was six, but they were in the same class at school.

  “You don’t want to know,” said Amy.

  “Then it must be good.”

  “Paisley wants to go as Ariel ‘with legs.’” She quoted. “Chloe wants to be a horse. They think since you’re getting dressed up, it’s some kind of costume party.”

  Anna threw her hands up. “It is! Tell them they can. Please, please, please. Alec will die if Chloe comes out dressed as a horse.” She giggled.

  She was all giggles these days.

  Amy returned to the table, where she’d left more than half a turkey sandwich before beginning the maid of honor dress expo. She picked at the bread, never much of an eater, and sat across from her friend.

  “Enough about me,” said Anna. “How’s married life?”

  It took a second to realize she wasn’t talking about Danny. Almost a year they’d been divorced—for the last two they’d pretty much been separated—and the question still caught her off guard.

  She could feel her brow furrow. If she kept that up she was totally going to get wrinkle lines there. She pinched off a corner of the bread on her sandwich.

  “It’s not like that,” Amy said. “Mike and I are just friends.”

  “Friends that sometimes kiss,” said Anna.

  “That was once,” said Amy, thinking again of her monumental exit into the closet. She set her forehead on the table and stared at the toes of her green combat boots.

  “Why don’t you make it more than once?”

  “Because I have deep concerns about one of us turning into a frog.”

  “You live together,” pressed Anna.

  “We’re staying with him. Just like his mom is staying with him.” Mike had brought all of them under his roof during the remainder of Alec’s trial. That was the kind of guy he was. Nice. Protective.

  Hot.

  Amy liked Ms. Iris, her upstairs apartment neighbor and go-to babysitter, but having your dream guy’s mom sleeping in the guest room didn’t exactly make for the most romantic atmosphere.

  Amy sat up, rubbing the spot on her forehead where it had rested on the table. It was probably bright red. One of the joys of having skin so pale it was practically see-through.

  “Besides,” she continued. “He’s got two jobs and most of the time we work opposite schedules. Then when we’re together, we’re all together. We’re making dinner for the girls, or playing games, or watching movies. And by the time they’re asleep, he’s finishing his night school stuff and I’m paying bills or cleaning up and both of us are barely awake enough to remember each other’s names much less make out.”

  “Right. You’re married.”

  Amy’s nose crinkled. “Don’t you have clients?”

  “Just you,” said Anna. “Look, the trial’s over. Maxim Stein’s in jail, and no one’s in danger anymore. You could have gone back to your apartment a month ago, but you didn’t. Surely that means something.”

  Amy fidgeted. She had thought about going back to her own place, but every time she did, she’d look at Paisley, coloring with Chloe, or laughing about something Mike had done, and she couldn’t make herself bring it up. She should have, of course. Their weeklong slumber party was going on two months now. Things were getting a little too comfortable.

  A familiar pressure grew in her chest. Time to steer this ship for calmer seas.

  “Well,” said Amy, leaning forward and glancing side to side secretly. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but...”

  Anna leaned closer.

  “We eloped last month. Didn’t want to steal your thunder, what with the big nuptials right around the corner. We spent a week in the Alps drinking hot chocolate and making sweet, sweet love in a gondola.”

  Anna gave her the you’re-full-of-shit look.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t notice I was gone,” said Amy. “Some BFF you are. Now, I better go take these dresses back to the car before Derrick comes in and tries to steal them for himself.”

  “You know...” Anna examined her engagement ring, a modest square-cut diamond on a white gold band. “Alec told me you’re the first woman Mike’s ever dated that has met Chloe.”

  “We’re not dating,” Amy said reflexively, but she wavered at that. With the exception of Jonathan Marshall, aka Trevor Marshall, aka William MacAfee, aka a total lapse in judgment, she never introduced her dates to Paisley either. If they weren’t going to be a permanent fixture, she didn’t want them around to confuse her daughter. Mike fell under a different criteria though. He was Alec’s friend. Anna’s friend. Her friend, too.

  Kind of.

  The truth was, she had no idea where they stood. Maybe they really were dating, just without the dates. Or maybe that kiss had just been one really hot fluke.

  Anna smirked in a gloaty way as Amy took the hangers down and made her escape.

  The lot behind the salon was small, with only room enough for eight cars. Four of the spots were reserved for the bar next door, O’Malleys, and though it didn’t open for another two hours, the spaces were all filled.

  Keys in one hand, Amy made for the forest green mom mobile—a Subaru hatchback—and opened the back door. She was draping the dresses across the car seats when she heard footsteps behind her and st
ood, turning toward the sound.

  Her heart stopped in her chest. Automatically she took two quick steps back, colliding with the car door. The side of the window dug into her back.

  He was standing near the tailgate, golden hair now too short, hugging his skull. Eyes tired, with black bags beneath them, and that same, skinny silver ring through his right brow. He was thin everywhere but the gut, like he’d spent too much time drinking. The black jacket he wore hung on his shoulders, like the worn denim hung off his hips. As his eyes locked on his, she felt herself automatically pull inward, an ingrained response, even after all this time.

  “Well,” said Danny. “Been a while.”

  Chapter Two

  It took five full seconds for her to find her breath, and during that time a dozen different thoughts whipped through her brain. She hadn’t seen him in two years. She had pepper spray on her key ring. The nearest help was behind a closed door. Anna was inside; she would hear if Amy yelled.

  He looked like shit. The snake had finally shed his skin, revealing what was really underneath.

  “What are you doing here?” Amy managed. Her voice was low, her throat bone-dry.

  His mouth twisted up in a smile. Once she’d thought it was dazzling, but now she knew better. Three years of marriage had taught her just how dangerous that smile could be.

  “I was next door.” He nodded in the direction of the bar. Her gaze briefly went to the cars, but she didn’t recognize the old silver Nissan he used to drive. Maybe he’d gotten something new.

  “You’re drunk,” she said, gripping her keys even harder.

  He looked injured, and then gave a small chuckle and leaned against her car.

  “Don’t do that,” she snapped.

  He ignored her.

  “I was just meeting with some old friends.”

  She knew some of his old friends. They were pigs, just like he was. She watched him carefully. He didn’t look or sound drunk. Either way, drinking had never made Danny mean. It only exaggerated what was already there.

  “I have to get back to work.” She shut the car door, and gathered herself to walk by him. She didn’t want to get any closer than necessary. Her stomach was already churning, rebelling against the sandwich she’d picked at.