Lust, Lies and Tinsel Ties Read online

  Lust, Lies and Tinsel Ties

  Mia Jae

  Bree Connor thinks she's volunteered to be a cocktail waitress at a benefit party for the homeless, donating her tips to the shelter-until the end of the night when she gets auctioned off to the highest bidder. The buyer? A man who has been giving her eyes all evening. He also happens to be the partner of the man Bree had an extremely unforgettable sexual encounter with a few months earlier, and has been avoiding all evening.

  Oh, what a tinseled web we weave…

  With 24 hours to do her buyer's bidding, she finds herself draped in tinsel and bound to a humongous antique bed, awaiting her Christmas Eve fate, only to find that she's been purchased as a gift for the man she's been trying to avoid. Unfortunately, her buyer orders them to 'get each other out of their systems' so they can go on with their lives… or not. Thing is, while blindfolded and securely bound, Bree is pretty sure she feels two sets of hands on her body instead of just one…

  Mia Jae

  Lust, Lies and Tinsel Ties

  A Red Garters, Snow and Mistletoe Series, 2009

  Chapter One

  The black thong was a perfect fit, if she did say so herself. It cupped her nicely in front, making a perfect vee at her crotch. The tiny straps hugged her hipbone.

  Bree Noël Conner smoothed her hands over her hips and tucked the tips of her fingers under the thin string. She’d invested in an airbrushed tan for the occasion and was glad of it. Her skin was bronze and silky, even though it was Christmas Eve. Pasty white and dry wasn’t for her, though her complexion was naturally milky. Since moving to Albuquerque, she tried her best to stay sun-kissed and healthy-looking, like everyone else. Besides, she had a skimpy dress to wear tonight and she’d be damned if she was wearing pantyhose.

  Even in the middle of winter.

  Turning, she glanced over her shoulder in the mirror and smiled. “Nice ass, if I do say so myself.” She adjusted the thong and then ran her palms over her backside too.

  Wearing only the scrap of fabric, she padded across her bedroom and sat on the bench at the foot of her bed. Warming her favorite cocoa butter lotion in her hands, she skimmed her hands over her legs, lifting first one, then the other, into the air.

  “Nice and moist,” she whispered. “Perfect.”

  One at a time, she slipped a foot into a black patent leather boot, complete with five-inch tall, white faux-fur tops and three-inch heels, then laced each boot up her shin, from the top of her foot all the way to the fur at her knees.

  Standing, she moved to the mirror again and admired the high-heeled boots, again turning this way and that to get the full effect.

  “Nice,” she whispered. “Yes.” These will do just fine.

  Lifting her gaze to her bare chest, she perused each of her girls. Firm, full, and bronzed as well, she noted her erect, upturned nipples.

  She liked breasts. On her and on other women. Not that she went around feeling up other women’s breasts-it wasn’t her gig-she secretly admired other women’s from afar. To her own way of thinking, hers were topnotch.

  Her last boyfriend thought so, too.

  Until she’d screwed up. Again.

  Sighing, she was actually glad he was out of her life, and relieved she didn’t have a man to answer to right now. Picking up her black strapless bra from the dresser, she clasped it around her waist. Twisting it upward, she shimmied the girls into place. It was a cup size too small.

  Damn.

  A lazy smiled curled over her lips. She liked the look of her breasts spilling out over the rim of the cups.

  Her cell rang; she glanced down at the number, picked it up. “Hey, Ging.”

  Her best friend’s high-pitched voice pinged through from the other side.

  Bree grimaced. “I hear you! Yes. I know it’s snowing. What?”

  Ginger explained once more, “We need to leave now. We’ll never get up the mountain if we wait an hour.”

  Shit. That came through loud and clear. The party was in a home up in the East Mountain area of the Sandias. They’d had light snow off and on all day. She hadn’t realized that it was getting worse.

  Teach her to dally in the tub.

  But tonight, she had to look nice. She was hoping to come away from this evening with a purse full of pocket change, all for a good cause, of course.

  “All right! I’ll be downstairs in ten.”

  She ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed. Her Santa dress hung in the doorway. She grasped the thing-if you could call it a dress, even-and gave it a quick perusal. Pulling it over her head, she wriggled into it. Skin tight, it cinched at her waist and flared out over her hips. She struggled with the zipper at the side, finally managing to pull it all the way up.

  “Belt.”

  Locating the black patent leather belt, she circled her waist and pulled it tight, buckling it snug at her center. Again, she gave herself a once-over in the mirror. The dress barely skimmed her ass. The red velveteen, trimmed in faux fur along the hem, tickled her cheeks. Fur cradled her breasts, as well.

  “Nice.”

  A horn sounded outside.

  “Crap.”

  She clutched at her makeup bag, the elbow-length red satin gloves, and her Santa hat, then tripped down the stairs of her townhouse toward the front door.

  * * * *

  The roads in the city weren’t too bad. Once they left the highway, however, the mountain two-lane was somewhat messy. Bree stared through the swiping blades pushing the dry snow pellets off the windshield. “God, I hope this isn’t a mistake.”

  “Quit worrying.”

  Bree turned to Ginger, who was leaning forward in her seat, staring out the window.

  “This is going to be fine,” Ginger said. “The party is over at one and hopefully by the end of the evening, our names will be a little more prominent in higher circles.”

  “I’m worried about the snow.”

  “Oh hell.” She patted the dash of her Jeep. “Ol’ Ginny here will get us back home again just fine. That’s why I like a four-wheel drive. Doesn’t keep me from getting where I need to go. Besides, it’s a dry snow. Not thick and wet like back home.”

  Bree didn’t know about that. Back home in Ohio, when it snowed like this it generally wasn’t a big problem. But in Ohio, they had the proper snow removal equipment and had the systems all worked out. Here, big snows rarely came. And even though the weathermen weren’t predicting a huge mess, Bree was antsy. Her father was a farmer, after all, and she’d learned to watch the sky and respect the weather.

  She didn’t like how the sky looked to the north and west.

  Again, she looked to Ginger, taking in her party attire. She wore as skimpy an outfit as Bree, the color was tan with white trimming her cuffs and collar; the neckline low cut. Red hearts were centered up the bodice and a red petticoat peeked out from beneath the short skirt. A teeny white apron completed the look. The outfit was topped off with red sparkling Mary Jane’s and red and white candy cane striped knee socks.

  “So what the hell are you supposed to be?” she asked.

  “What? You can’t tell?”

  She shook her head. “Not sure.”

  “I’m the Gingerbread girl!” She pointed to her apron, covering her crotch. “See? There is my cookie.”

  “Ah.” She did indeed see Ginger’s cookie. “I get it. Ginger the Gingerbread girl. Hell, I hope we don’t get stopped on this road due to the weather. We look like hookers.”

  “We are so not hookers.”

  “But we sure look like it.”

  Ginger edged a glance her way. “Bree, we’re businesswomen who are volunteering their time tonight for a good cause. Not to mention that it will be a good promo op for o
ur business. That’s all. We’re not hookers.”

  “We look like hookers.”

  “Give it a rest.”

  Bree wondered how she’d gotten talked into this. She watched the snow out her window and replied, “I’m wearing a dress that barely covers my ass with nothing but a thong underneath. If I don’t look like I’m out for sex, then I don’t know what…”

  “So what’s new? You’re always out for sex.”

  Whipping her head around to look at Ginger, she spat back, “And you are Miss Goody Two-Shoes?”

  Ginger braked and stopped the car dead in the road. Probably not a good move, given the mush and the ever climbing incline, because the Jeep shimmied a little to the right. “Hell, Bree, what is up with you? So we both like sex. So what? Has nothing to do with what we are doing tonight. Tonight, we are cocktail waitresses at an artsy-fartsy benefit party. Volunteers. Nothing more, nothing less. And we’re out for tips, nothing more, nothing less. The proceeds all go to the homeless shelter that we, Conner & Baker Realty, are helping to sponsor. It’s a good thing, Bree. For the homeless. For us. So, if you flip your skirt accidentally and show a little cheek, all the better.”

  Ginger was right. The real estate business they co-owned needed a boost. They were doing okay, but lately, they were just making ends meet. Volunteering for this charity event would make them more prominent in the community, since neither of them was from here.

  Besides, she’d never been against showing a little ass cheek.

  “I hope like hell no one we know is there.” Bree adjusted her bra at her cleavage, and felt a lurch forward as Ginger put her foot on the accelerator. Going nude on the beach at Daytona during Spring Break was one thing. “I mean, how embarrassing? What if we truly ran into a client? It could be the kiss of death…” Baring it to a colleague was quite another.

  “Give it a rest, Bree. We need to run into our clients and colleagues. They need to see us giving back to the community we live in.”

  “They don’t need to see the cheeks of my ass.”

  “Oh hell! When did you become Ms. Prude! It’s a flamboyant, funky, charity party with all the artsy community attending so they will get their pictures in the paper. No one will care if you are showing your ass!”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because, I just know these things.”

  Not comforting. Ginger’s sixth sense about “things” was what led them out to the Southwest in the first place. And so far, that hadn’t panned out too well.

  Ginger maneuvered a curve and slowed. “Oh. My. God.”

  Even through the slanting snow, they faced a spectacular view of the land stretching between the east side of the Sandias and toward Santa Fe. A little to their right, sat a very large stucco house, artfully placed into the mountain landscape and facing that same view. There were a couple of cars in the drive, as they were early.

  The volunteers were to arrive at seven. The party was due to begin at eight. Bree figured it wouldn’t really get started until about ten.

  “This is the house,” Ginger said.

  “Damn.”

  “Money.”

  “Yep.”

  Then Ginger pointed. “And look. There.”

  A SOLD sign was perched rather cockeyed at the end of the drive. “Dammit,” Ginger hissed. “We sure could have used a sale like that.”

  Bree frowned. “Way things have been going lately, I’d settle for the sale of that casita off Rio Grande.”

  * * * *

  Jake Baldwin peered out the window. Even though it was now dark, the lights from the house reflected off the white, snow-covered hills and valleys below. He sat at the back of the house, away from the party, a bit disgruntled and lost in thought, as usual. His life, for the most part, was all he’d wanted it to be. Successful career, huge home-this new home-in the mountains, a satisfying social life with an eclectic bevy of friends, and…

  “Jake?”

  Carson.

  He stood and turned toward the voice of his lover. The opening of the door threw a triangle of light into the dark room. Carson strode slowly inside, stooping slightly to twist the switch on a lamp, low lighting the room.

  Yes, and he had Carson.

  And for a long time, that had been enough.

  “What are you doing back here?” he asked. “The party is in full swing.”

  “I know.”

  “Guests are asking for you.”

  “I’ll be there in time for the auction.”

  “Good. I have my eye on an item for you,” he went on. “I may have bid too high.”

  He wished he wouldn’t do that. “Please, don’t go overboard.”

  Carson eyed him. “I know my limits. And you are still in a funk.”

  Nodding, he cast his gaze away. “I’m sorry. I know I promised to snap out of it for the party, but it’s not working.”

  They both stood for a moment staring at the floor.

  The silence between them was telling. There had been too much of it between them the past few months. Talking didn’t seem to be on their common agenda.

  He felt the warmth of Carson’s palm on his bicep. “Look at me, Jake,” he said softly, lifting his chin with the forefinger of the other hand.

  Jake hooked his gaze into Carson’s and exhaled. “I appreciate your patience with me. I’m just…”

  “Sh…” Carson drew closer. “Stop talking and listen to me. We’ll get through this. I am a patient man. But you need to decide, Jake, what you want, sooner or later.”

  He knew that.

  Carson was patient when they bought the house together. Jake had pushed it, wanting to be high in the Sandias. Carson would have preferred the city. He thought buying the house would settle him somewhat. Ground him into their life together. Help him forget…

  It hadn’t.

  Carson didn’t want to know what was wrong. Had said he didn’t need to know the truth. But he knew that it was serious and that Jake had screwed up. He’d even said he had forgiven him, even though he didn’t know what for.

  Why couldn’t he forgive himself?

  And why couldn’t he just fess up and tell Carson that he’d fucked up?

  No. Instead, he’d lied. Told him the moodiness was due to depression. In reality that probably wasn’t far from being true. His brain was screwed on crooked, and he couldn’t make sense of what was, and wasn’t, the right thing to do anymore.

  He wanted to be fair. Wanted it like hell. And he didn’t want to ask anything of Carson that was outside of his comfort zone. But things changed.

  And he knew exactly when.

  Since then, nothing sat well. Nothing satisfied.

  Decide what I want. Sooner or later.

  Thing was, the decision wasn’t totally up to him, was it?

  “That’s the thing, Carson,” he whispered, “I know what I want. I’m just not sure you will agree.”

  Waiting, he stared into the blue of his lover’s eyes. Slowly, his partner leaned into him, clutched his bicep a little tighter, and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

  “Leave it to me.” Carson’s soft breath tickled his cheek. “I will make this work.”

  Jake wasn’t sure that he could.

  Chapter Two

  Glancing at the clock over the bartender’s head, Bree sighed and tried not to hobble in her black stiletto patent leather boots. It was damned difficult, though, and she leaned into the bar in an attempt to take the pressure off the balls of her feet. She sat her empty tray down on the counter. “I need a Vodka Collins, a Mojito with light ice, straight bourbon, and something fruity. She doesn’t care what it is as long as it has pineapple.”

  The bartender-his name was Ted, she thought-snickered and started on the drinks. Turning her back to him, she glanced out over the party crowd. Her earlier thoughts that the party wouldn’t heat up until ten o’clock were on track. Even though the crowd was smaller than anticipated, and rather sophisticated and artsy, they knew how to throw down a go
od time.

  She was ready to go home.

  “How you doing?” Ginger tap-danced her way up to the bar. “Isn’t this exciting?” She smiled broadly, tossing her amber locks over her shoulder. Sidling closer, she lowered her voice and said, “How are the tips? I think I’ve tucked minimum of five hundred in my bra. Hell, we are going to have a pile of money to give to the shelter.”

  Bree glanced to Ginger’s chest. “You look lopsided. Your right tit is lumpy.”

  Slapping her tray on the bar, she did a quick adjustment. “Look at this place, Bree. My God! I wish we could land a sale like this. They just bought it, I heard. I’m thinking close to a mil. What do you think?”

  Bree broke her gaze from Ginger and perused the room. A harmony of party sounds swirled around them-a classy jazz tune laid a nice bass level to the cacophony; people talking and bursts of laughter balanced the treble. The people were a trip. Dressed in all kinds of couture, from vintage eclectic, to Goth Christmas, to diamonds and black tie, there was an air of sophisticated funk about the room.

  But Bree was only in tune with the home. Floor to ceiling windows faced the view of the mountains and the twinkling valley lights below. The great room was large; the bar she stood at was a permanent fixture. Solid oak. Wood beams crisscrossed the ceiling; others stood as pillars throughout the room, lending a rustic, Southwest feel. The interior walls were stucco; the floors terra cotta tile. The kitchen behind her was magnificent-she’d stuck her head in there earlier in the evening-complete with state-of-the art stainless everything.

  “It’s all custom. Fixtures. Woodwork. Don’t you love those built-ins over there? And what about that stained glass sky light. Look at that fireplace, Bree. Looks like red rock stone. Fabulous. Four bedrooms and baths. A spa downstairs. Indoor pool. A guest casita outside…

  “One mil, eight hundred thousand.” Bree uttered her prediction while Ginger continued to spout the home’s assets.