Naughty Godmother
Naughty Godmother
It’s only her first day on the new job, and already fairy Holly Tucket is in over her head as she attempts to use her powers to turn super nerd Alex Nelson into a lady-killer. Little does she know Alex isn’t who he pretends to be, and when it comes to making women melt, he doesn’t need any help.
Security expert Alex Nichlaus has been undercover for four months and is putting the finishing touches on a smuggling case that has kept him secluded and celibate.
When a sexy redhead shows up on his balcony claiming to be a fairy sent to teach him how to please a woman, he just can’t bring himself to send her away.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
Naughty Godmother
ISBN 9781419932380
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Naughty Godmother Copyright © 2011 Chloe Cole
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication January 2011
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
NAUGHTY GODMOTHER
Chloe Cole
To Melinda, the real Holly Tucket. And for my sister Nicole who, despite my determination not to, makes me believe in magic.
Acknowledgement
To my editor, Grace Bradley, for making me look good and making it look easy.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Glock: Glock, Inc.
Chloe Cole
“Him. He’s the one.”
Mila arched a perfectly shaped raven brow. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like a little more time to choose? This shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“Nope, that’s the guy. I’m sure of it,” Holly said with an emphatic nod.
“It’s a one-shot deal you know. If he’s a dud, that’s that. Fail.”
“I know.”
“All right,” Mila said, her tone indicating that, while it may have been “all right” it certainly wasn’t smart. “Sign here.”
Mila held out the elaborate gold pen and Holly resisted the urge to wipe her sweat-soaked palms on her jeans before taking it gingerly. With a trembling hand, she scrawled out her signature then held the pen back out to Mila, who shook her head.
“Keep it. You might need it.”
Oh ye of little faith.
She was right though, better safe than sorry. “So now what?”
“Now you get to work. You have,” Mila raised an elegant wrist to check her watch,
“twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes to get it done.” She cast a dubious glance at the image of a man in a lab coat sitting on a park bench, tapping away on his laptop.
“And judging by the looks of him, you’ve not a moment to spare. If you need me to intervene, you know what to do.”
She picked up the contract and stood to go. “Wait!”
Mila paused and cocked her head expectantly.
“What if I can’t go through with it?” Holly whispered.
6
Naughty Godmother
“Call me and I’ll intervene.” Uncharacteristic concern clouded Mila’s eyes. “You know, not everyone is cut out for this kind of work. You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes I do. I have to at least try. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”
“All right then, give it your best shot. Always remember to look at it like a public service. You’re helping people become more comfortable with themselves. Like a therapist. Now, hop to it.”
And with a flick of her manicured fingertips she was gone.
“Showoff,” Holly grumbled.
She looked down at the bowl of water on the table and into the face of her new charge. Oblivious to her voyeurism, he slid his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, unaware that his life was about to change forever.
If
she had the skills to pull it off. The thought kicked up the swarm of butterflies that had taken residence in her stomach since the day Mila had summoned her about the possible promotion.
I could have said no.
She let out a snort of disgust. As
if
. It would have been an unforgivable slight if Holly didn’t at least try the new job Fairy Queen Lucienne had selected for her. If she crashed and burned and was a major disappointment to everyone involved—again—
she could just go back to her happy little job and forget it ever happened.
Maybe then they’d all finally just let her be. And who knew? Maybe she’d be great at it.
With a sigh, she dipped her finger into the water and the scene reflected there shuddered and disappeared.
The clock was ticking.
She picked up the suitcase and laid it on the coffee table. Aside from the lingering scent of lilacs that accompanied Mila everywhere, it was the only evidence of her having been there. And despite the fact the potential contents of the bag terrified her, 7
Chloe Cole
she was grateful for both it and the scent that still permeated the air. Both were ironclad evidence she wasn’t a raving lunatic.
On her twelfth birthday, as it was for all the fairies, she’d blossomed and was introduced to the world of magic. Even after fifteen years, every so often she still needed reassurance that she hadn’t lost her mind that day; that her whole life wasn’t just some prolonged delusion.
With no time for further contemplation, she opened the suitcase then covered her eyes, peering down through the cracks of her splayed fingers. The tried and true method did little to soften the blow.
It was bad. Really bad.
Three pairs of stiletto heels, two black and one red, stared back at her. Always practical, even in spite of the nerves clawing at her, she decided instantly on the red ones. That way when she toppled down the stairs and broke her ever-loving neck, at least the shoes would match the pool of blood that would likely be her final resting place. Mila would’ve been proud to know that at least one of her lessons had stuck.
A woman should always put her best foot forward. The way to lure a man is to C.A.S.T.,
darling.
C
olor coordinate, emphasize your
A
ssets, and never leave home without your
S
tilettos
and a
T
hong.
Ah Jeez, and speak of the devil, there it was. Holly wrenched her stupid fingers away from her stupid eyes and gnawed her lip as she stared down at the teeniest, tiniest scrap of underwear she’d ever seen. It made dental floss look positively substantial.
Well, fiddlesticks.
* * * * *
Alex Nichlaus yanked the glasses off his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose where they pinched just enough to be annoying. Another couple days and he’d be rid of them for good.
8
Naughty Godmother
He couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over. To get out of the cramped apartment, change out of the ridiculous clothes and, if there really was a God, to get laid.
And definitely not in that order.
After four months without sex, he was starting to lose his mind and if the old wives’ tale held true, his vision wouldn’t be far behind. His hand just wasn’t going to cut it for much longer.
He needed a woman and he needed one bad.
Gooseflesh raised on his arms as the room turned unseasonably cool. A moment later, the curtains fluttered. He stood to investigate but before he could work out the cause, a loud crash and a muffled yelp sounded from the balcony.
His heart bucked as a rush of adrenaline coursed through him. Sliding the glasses up his nose, he reached a hand behind his back, resting his palm lightly on the Glock nestled there. He considered drawing the weapon but dismissed the idea. Foolhardy maybe, but he’d worked too hard for too long establishing his cover and he wasn’t about to risk blowing it at the eleventh hour.
Alex got to the French doors just in time to see a slight woman with a riot of red curls tangled around her face hauling herself up, using his planter as an anchor.
He threw the door open and glared at the intruder, who’d finally righted herself.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snarled.
The redhead started in surprise, teetering. Panic flashed across her face as she pitched forward. He steeled himself but her momentum was too great and she slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her as they crashed to the floor. His lungs emptied with a whoosh as her full weight barreled into his solar plexus.
Shit.
9
Chloe Cole
“Crap,” the woman atop him muttered. She struggled to free herself from his grasp, but he wasn’t quite ready to let her go. If she did have bad intentions, he would be all but helpless until he got his breath back.
The darker part of him acknowledged that, bad intentions or no, it had been way too long since he’d had a woman wriggling on top of him. Her warm, soft curves molded against him in all the right places and he closed his eyes to gather some fortitude as he tried to hold her still.
A few seconds passed before he got his wind back. He sucked in a deep breath and was assailed by the scent of warm woman and buttery brown sugar. Instantly his cock stiffened.
Down, boy
.
He rolled to his side, spilling her off him and onto the floor then jumped to his feet.
“Who are you and what were you doing on my balcony?” he demanded. He stared down at her, more puzzled by the second. “And why in God’s name do you have on a trench coat? It’s eighty degrees out.”
She struggled onto all fours then to her knees, peering up at him. A thatch of rust-colored curls had flopped forward, covering one side of her face and she blew them away with an exasperated huff. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and she gnawed at her bottom lip. Not exactly the hallmarks of a serial killer or potential burglar, at least not from his experience. Some of the tension knotting his muscles released as his body got the signal that the “code red” had been downgraded to a code “What the fuck is going on here?”