Sinful Temptation

Read Sinful Temptation Online

Authors: Ann Christopher

Loving him can never be a sin…

Scion of a powerful family, Antonios Davies has come home to take his rightful place as head of his family’s respected New York auction house. But the former soldier is haunted by memories of war…and the woman who has consumed his dreams for months.

Talia Adams fell in love with Tony in the poignant letters they exchanged while he was overseas. But the beautiful painter has wounds of her own. She isn’t prepared for the seductive stranger who shows up on her doorstep…or the passion that sweeps them past the point of no return. Are they ready to let go of the past for the most passionate future imaginable?

Ducking his head, he pressed his cheek
to hers and whispered in her ear.

“Tell me, baby.”

“It’s been a tough year.”

Against her temple, she felt the prickle of his brow as it contracted, and she could understand his confusion. Maybe he thought she was referring to her broken relationship with Paul, which was a natural conclusion. The wrong one, but still natural. Tony had only ever known about the tip of her iceberg of secrets.

She couldn’t bear the thought of telling him about the rest.

“I understand,” he murmured. “I know about tough years.”

“I’m strong. I can handle almost anything.”

“I know you can.”

“The one thing I can’t handle,” she said, raising her head so she could look him in the eye, even though she was about one second from bawling like a baby, “is having you and then losing you.”

A glimmer of something—relief? Hope?—flashed across his face. “You’re not going to lose me.”

That did it. The first tear fell, splashing down her face. “It’s inevitable.”

His brow furrowed into a vague frown, but he chose not to pursue it now, which was, she knew, a temporary reprieve at best.

Instead, he lowered his head and, taking all the time in the world, covered her mouth with his.

Books by Ann Christopher

Kimani Romance

Just About Sex

Sweeter Than Revenge

Tender Secrets

Road to Seduction

Campaign for Seduction

Redemption’s Kiss

Seduced on the Red Carpet

Redemption’s Touch

The Surgeon’s Secret Baby

Sinful Seduction

Sinful Temptation

Ann Christopher

is a full-time chauffeur for her two overscheduled children. She is also a wife, former lawyer and decent cook. In between trips to various sporting practices and games, Target, and the grocery store, she likes to write the occasional romance novel. She lives in Cincinnati and spends her time with her family, which includes two spoiled rescue cats, Sadie and Savannah; and two rescue hounds, Sheldon and Dexter. As always, Ann is hard at work on her next book, and hopes that—if you haven’t already—you’ll pick up the first book in her Twins of Sin series, Sandro’s story,
Sinful Seduction,
which is still available.

If you’d like to recommend a great book, share a recipe for homemade cake of any kind, or suggest a tip for getting your children to do what you say the
first
time you say it,
Ann would love to hear from you through her website, www.AnnChristopher.com.

ANN
CHRISTOPHER

Sinful Temptation

Dear Reader,

Stateside again after his escape from captivity in Afghanistan, Tony Davies does his best to embrace civilian life, which isn’t easy. The war haunts him, and there are things he cannot forget. Like the woman who wrote to him while he was overseas, her poignant letters and the passion he’d begun to feel for her. He’d even nursed the secret hope that they had a future together—until her communication suddenly stopped, leaving him with only unanswered questions and a terrible silence.

Painter Talia Adams is also haunted by her past, and the last thing she expects is to find Tony Davies alive and on her doorstep, demanding explanations she doesn’t want to give.

What will she do?

She’d better come to terms with her demons, and fast, because she’s about to run headlong into one unavoidable truth: Tony didn’t survive all those terrible months as a POW only to return home and lose the woman he’s come to love.…

Happy reading!

Ann

To the men and women serving in the Armed Forces:

Thank you.

Prologue

Two years ago

August 16

Dear Antonios—

I’m so glad we had the chance to meet at my studio before you went overseas! You do remember me, right? I know it’s been a little while. I was the one with the winning smile and all the silver bracelets that you so kindly made fun of.

Ringing a bell? Yes? No? You were there to pick up your nephew Nikolas from my art class in the West Village.

Anyway, I have a confession to make: this whole idea of communicating without email is overwhelming me. I understand that while you’re stationed in Afghanistan you’ll be in some areas where the internet is unavailable, but, really, it seems very rude of the locals not to provide the best possible accommodations for you. Has anyone explained to them the need for additional towers and the like? Maybe if you point out how important it is…?

In the meantime, I’ve found an answer to this dilemma. After much research, I’ve discovered that there is another way to pass along written ideas. It’s called writing a letter, and it involves pen and paper. No, really! But it’s not a perfect solution. For one thing, have you seen my handwriting? For another, who will spell-check? My speling and proofreeding arnt what they shood ought to be pritty bad.

Clearly, this whole exercise is fraught with peril, and not for the faint of heart, but I do think I’m up to the challenge.

So…

How are you? You’re staying safe, right? Please tell me you’re staying safe. And if you see any bad guys with guns and bombs coming, please RUN! They probably don’t tell you that during army training, but you should RUN whenever possible. Don’t stay and fight. That’s just crazy.

Oh, and I wanted to send you a care package with gum, sunscreen and hard candy in it, but my online research (because we have the appropriate number of towers here in New York!) tells me that soldiers get too much gum, sunscreen and hard candy.

Are there any treats you miss from home that I can send you?

Well, that’s it for now. Please write me back, unless you’re too busy RUNNING, in which case you’re excused from writing me back, but only until you’re safe again.

Your new pen pal,

Talia

P.S. I promised myself that if I ever wrote to a soldier, I’d tell him this: you are brave and strong, and I’m in awe of you. Thank you for your service.

August 30

Talia—

How could I forget you?

Thank you for writing the “letter.”

And thanks for the P.S. Especially the P.S. I don’t always feel brave or strong, but I’m trying.

Anyway…

I, too, was unaware that there were such things as “letters” before I came over here, but I really like them, especially when they come from you. Oh, and I did mention your concern about towers to the local tribal leader, but he didn’t seem that receptive. Pardon the pun. He blathered something about needing food and shelter for his villagers, before he tried to shoot my head off.

Oh, and that reminds me. I wanted to RUN, but it turns out that soldiers are expected to FIGHT BACK and PROTECT PEOPLE. Who knew? So I will try that for a while and see how it goes.

I miss lots of treats from home. Can you fold up a hot pizza slice from John’s Pizzeria and send it along? Or a hot shower? If either of those turn out to be too tricky and won’t fit into one of those prepaid postal boxes, I’d love something spicy or salty.

In your next “letter,” please tell me about your painting and your students. In my next life, if I’m lucky enough to have one, I’ll probably be involved in running the family’s auction house. My major at West Point was Art, Philosophy and Literature, so I know just enough about art to be dangerous.

Until next time,

Tony

P.S. That reminds me— If you call me by my crazy-ass full name again, you will have to RUN. It’s Tony.

September 14

Dear TONY—

I have sent the hot shower and John’s pizza along via FedEx. If you experience any delays in receiving them, please let me know. I did keep the tracking numbers.

Meanwhile, I’m enclosing a pound of wasabi-coated peanuts. They were so spicy that when I tried them, I had to spit them out, soak my tongue in ice water and then proceed to the E.R. for treatment, followed by several rounds of physical therapy. So I figure they’re perfect for you!

I know who you are, of course. One of the sons of Davies & Sons. Big auction house. Art. Antiques. Antiquities. Jewelry. But here’s what I don’t get—what’re you doing in the army? Where’d your father go wrong with you???

What should I tell you about my paintings? I work with oils and acrylics to create abstract representations of nature, emotions and anything else that sparks my imagination. Translation: I paint giant slashes and squiggles in bright colors. Oh, and smudges. Lots of smudges. And I also use my studio to teach painting to kids because, let’s face it, most of them understand squiggles.

Exciting, eh? Aren’t you glad you asked?

But my reputation is growing and I am selling a lot of portraits these days, which is my bread-and-butter work. After my first solo show about three years ago, I turned a corner and my commissions have really taken off, which is good, since I like to eat and want to travel. Life’s short and there’s lots to see and experience, you know? So I charge rich people a lot to paint them with their favorite polo ponies and the like, and guess what? They pay it!!! See? Win-win for everyone!

Okay. Your turn. Tell me something about you. What about the wedding plans? How’re they coming?

Oh, and today I read an article about service dogs in Afghanistan. Do you have any?

Gotta go—Paul, my sister and my girlfriends are luring me to a new club in the Meatpacking District tonight, where they’re throwing me a surprise party for my thirtieth birthday. So I need to work on my astonishment. How’s this:

Oh, my God!

Or this:

*SHRIEK* I don’t believe it!!

Or this:

*SOBBING* I love you guys!!!

Take care and stay safe—

Talia

October 1

Dear Talia—

Thanks for the wasabi peanuts! I ate half of one last night and am still sweating. Awesome! I did have to beat off most of my men, though. Those vultures thought I would share.

Wow. You totally had me fooled on the surprise party thing. Nice job. Which option did you finally go with? The sobbing? How was the party?

You asked about how I wound up in the army. That actually is tied to the auction house. When I was about ten, we conducted the auction of a collection of military memorabilia from the Napoleonic Wars, which was a refreshing change from paintings, jewelry and Tiffany lamps, let me tell you. This led to an obsession with Napoleon… Alexander the Great… Patton… If you can think of a great general, I’ve read about him. This led me and my brother to West Point, and the rest is history.

But I will get back to the auction house one day. It’s in my blood.

What else did you ask about?

Oh, yeah—we do have a service dog—her name is Chesley, and she’s a mine-sniffing border collie mix. She’s supposed to sleep with her handler, but she’s not the faithful type. I’ve woken up to find her snuggled up to me on more than one memorable occasion. She also enjoyed the wasabi peanuts, so that tells you how cool she is. She’s saved our hides many times.

Wedding update? Here it is: there’s not going to be one. Skylar dumped my ass before I shipped out. Turns out she doesn’t “love me like she should.” That’s what she says, anyway. So I guess it’s good she didn’t marry me, eh?

I’m not sure how I feel about the whole thing at the moment, to tell you the truth. Angry? Relieved? Hurt?

What about you and Paul? Any wedding bells and 2.5 kids in your future? If so, tell Paul he’s a lucky guy.

Gotta go—lights out—

Tony

October 20

Dear Tony—

SKYLAR SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!

That is all.

Love, Talia

P.S. I enclosed some Indian snack mix that is even hotter than the wasabi peanuts. Eat with caution! Oh, and some candy, since Halloween is coming up. Hope you like Skittles!

P.P.S. Paul is, of course, lucky, because, let’s face it, I’m a fabulous woman. But I’m not sure that I’m ready to settle down or that he’s THE ONE, whatever that means. Although he does throw a great surprise party with plenty of dancing.

P.P.P.S. Chesley is a border collie mix? I love border collies—they’re so smart and beautiful. I’ve always wanted a dog. Maybe one day…

November 10

Dear Talia—

What is this “the one” nonsense you women are always yammering about? Either you love the guy, or you don’t.

Love,

Tony

P.S. Thanks for the Indian snack mix. The steam finally stopped coming out of my ears and my eyebrows are beginning to grow back. Cool! Chesley and I really enjoyed the Skittles.

Oh, and if you want a dog, get a dog! What’re you waiting for?

December 2

Dear Tony—

Your ignorance appalls me! I will, however, try to put the concept into teeny-tiny words that even an ignoramus like you can understand. THE ONE is the person who provides the sunshine in your life. They bring it with them when they come, and take it with them when they leave. Duh.

That’s what my friends tell me, anyway. I’m not sure I believe in the whole concept. I blame this skepticism on my father, who walked out on the family when I was about ten and my sister, Gloria, was twelve. Aren’t you glad you asked?

Love,

Talia

P.S. Here is your Christmas care package, which contains six varieties of hot sauce, including the scary green ones, several hot snacks guaranteed to make your eyeballs shoot out of their sockets, and a small painting of mine called
Sol Splendor.
See the orangey bright swirls and swoops? That’s the sun. This will, hopefully, let you know if you’ve met THE ONE. Or at least brighten a tiny corner of your wall.

P.P.S. They do provide you with a nice Christmas dinner, don’t they?

Christmas Day

Dear Tony—

Sorry to overwhelm you with letters, but I am thinking about you and the other soldiers so far away from home right now. Usually I like to pretend that you’re in Europe on an extended vacation, but sometimes, like today, the truth breaks through. And I worry. Since I prefer to live a laughing and carefree existence, the worrying gets to me.

Are you safe? Is your bed comfortable? Do you even have a bed, or do you sleep on some sort of horrible cot torture device? And what about your Christmas dinner? Was it any good? Was there sweet potato casserole with marshmallows?

Here is how I do my Christmas Day Extravaganza, because my motto is this: Go big, or go home—

Cinnamon candles;

Al Green’s CD playing in an endless loop;

Fresh pine tree, wreaths and garland;

Gingerbread houses to decorate;

Roaring fire;

Brined turkey (I’m a fabulous cook!) with cranberry dressing;

Sweet potato casserole topped with nicely toasted marshmallows;

All (and I do mean all) the trimmings;

Pumpkin pie;

Pecan pie;

Hot chocolate with (you guessed it!) tiny marshmallows and crème de menthe; and

A viewing of
Home Alone.

So, anyway, please let me know that you’re safe and that there were some marshmallows involved in your Christmas Day experience. And I hope that next Christmas is everything you dream it will be.

Love from Talia

January 3

Dear Talia—

The painting is incredible. So was your letter. They were the best parts of my Christmas Day.

All I can say is—thank you.

Wishing you a wonderful New Year,

Tony

P.S. There was a tiny marshmallow sliver on my sweet potatoes, and the turkey was quite edible, so fear not.

P.P.S. I hope Paul appreciates how special his Christmas was.

January 17

Dear Tony—

Paul reports that his Christmas Day with his family in L.A. was lovely. I, meanwhile, had a great holiday here in NYC with my sister and friends. Paul and I are on a “break,” which means that we are reevaluating our relationship and whether we want to move in together or go our separate ways. I have never been on a “break” before, so I have no idea how this will turn out.

Oh, and before I forget to mention it—don’t think that I haven’t noticed the way you always dodge my questions about your experience in Afghanistan. Is it that I don’t have the appropriate security clearance?

I’ve decided to try you on something new—habanero potato chips! The store clerk had to use tongs to put them into the shopping bag, so I think they should be perfect for you!

Love,

Talia

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