Skin Deep (Prescott Twins, Book 2)
“SKIN DEEP is a wonderful novel that has a less than picture-perfect hero whom I’d go for any day. Try this one—you won’t be sorry.” Sensual Romance
“Jack has the kind of self-confidence that women the world over find irresistible … This one’s going to remain one of my favorite romances.” The Romance Studio
Winners of the Lories Contest!
You met Kirby, Kristin Prescott’s ball-busting twin, in Double the Pleasure. Now Kirby has her own sensual story to tell in Skin Deep.
Kirby Prescott is a woman in control of her life. She owns a thriving company, has her pick of gorgeous escorts, and no one to tell her what to do. And she has Jack Taylor, a man she’s never met but who knows her more intimately than almost anyone. Only a phone call away, Jack feeds her deepest desires with hot phone sex. Afterward, all she has to do is hang up. No fuss, no mess, no entanglements. Just the way Kirby likes it.
Jack Taylor isn’t staying long distance anymore. He knows what he wants, and he plans on showing Kirby that having him in her life doesn’t mean giving up her independence. Turning a simple business trip into a sensual journey, Jack is determined to win her over, body and soul.
Will taking the long distance out of their relationship ruin the perfect thing they had going?
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Excerpt
© 2012 Jasmine Haynes
Chapter One
“Dinner on Saturday sounds great, but don’t invite one of Ross’s friends this time.” Tucking the phone receiver between her shoulder and ear, Kirby Prescott kicked off her shoes, then propped her bare feet on her desk. Her wraparound skirt fell open to her thighs.
Her sister Kristin sighed. “I thought you liked Steve.”
“He was short.” And completely without a sense of humor. He hadn’t even cracked a smile during dinner. He’d also eyed her high heels with disdain, and she was sure on a first date, he’d have insisted she wear flats. A woman simply wasn’t dressed without a gorgeous pair of spiked heels.
Kristin tssked primly. “What about Mark?”
“I’m afraid bald is out, too.” Especially when a man tried to hide the fact beneath a tacky comb-over. It indicated a lack of self-confidence. “If God doesn’t crown a guy with abundant hair, he should accept it gracefully.”
“What if I find someone who’s proud of his shiny pate?”
Was there such a creature? Besides, for a woman in Kirby’s chosen profession, image was everything, and that went for the men she dated, too. Cosmetics was a cutthroat industry. She’d managed to introduce her custom line into many of San Francisco’s exclusive salons. She wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of future expansion.
“Short or bald is out, Kristin.”
Kristin huffed out an exasperated breath. “As much as I love you, I sometimes worry that you’re shallow.”
For just a second that stopped Kirby. Was she shallow for putting image above everything? No, her business was first on her list. “My, my, you really have found your balls, haven’t you, little sister?”
They were twins, but Kirby had exploded into the world first. Kristin would always be her little sister, in more ways than one.
“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but—”
“I know exactly what I am, so you can’t hurt my feelings.”
It wasn’t as if the men she dated wondered why she went out with them. She was eye candy as much as they were. Sure, she welcomed the flirting, the entertaining conversation, and yes, even a man’s unique and tantalizing scent or the soft caress of a slightly roughened finger along her arm. Still, the goal on both their parts was ultimately the same. Contact. Networking. She’d made connections aplenty at those dinners, parties, and various other engagements she’d attended.
“There’s more to life than just business,” Kristin said. “What about marriage? And kids?”
“God forbid. I want variety. I’d die if some man tried to tie me down.” She thoroughly enjoyed a man’s company; she didn’t, however, need to wake up beside him in the morning.
Kristin’s voice faltered. “You make it sound like a death sentence.”
“I didn’t mean that. It’s fine for the right person. For you. Not for me.” Her priority was her business, her career.
“If I found the right man for you—”
“Do not, and I repeat, do not matchmake for me.” Enough was enough. Her twin had become disgustingly monogamy-minded since catching her boss, Ross Sloan. Then again, maybe it was all those wedding plans and baby-name books warping her brain. Kristin was the mother type. Kirby couldn’t pull that off and didn’t want to.
“Spoilsport,” Kristin muttered.
“I like being single.” Kirby liked having choices. She liked making her own decisions. She liked being her own boss and controlling her own destiny.
“I just want you to be happy.”
“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Kirby leaned her head back against her leather chair. The spring sunshine streaming through the window of her San Francisco high-rise office building warmed the top of her head, but Kristin’s statement set her nerves on edge. She had her own flourishing business. She had delicious male companions to drape on her arm. She had freedom. Why wouldn’t she be happy?
“You rarely smile.”
“Let’s drop the subject, shall we? Dinner Saturday sounds great. What do you want me to bring?”
“Just yourself, sweetie.”
Which was a good thing. She wasn’t particularly domestic. Her best cooking came out of a gourmet takeout box from Petrici’s. “I found a great new chardonnay from a winery down in Templeton. I’ll bring a bottle of that.”
“Wonderful. Five o’clock?”
“Sure.” They’d hustle her out by ten so they could spend the rest of the evening in bed, getting all starry-eyed. That was fine; she’d still be able to make it for a drink or two at one of her favorite nightspots. Maybe even find a little company.
Except that after being around Kristin and Ross, sometimes she didn’t have the energy for company. Sometimes, all she wanted was a hot bath, lots of scented bubbles, and her vibrator, Mr. Perfect.
“Love you. Gotta go. I have another call coming in.”
Kirby didn’t, but she cut the connection anyway. What was wrong with her these days? It wasn’t her biological clock ticking, the way Kristin seemed to think. Still, something was missing.
She wasn’t envious of her sister for having a man like Ross. She wasn’t even envious of the way he looked at Kristin with that adoring gaze, like she was the queen of his world and he’d do anything—absolutely anything—for her.
That kind of look would petrify Kirby.
No, it wasn’t envy of what those two had together. It was the intensity with which they felt it. Kirby had known that feeling, and not so long ago. She’d felt the same thing as she watched her business grow, spending fourteen to sixteen hours a day making it all happen. She’d been alive, focused, obsessed. Rebuilding her business after almost losing it all—thanks to a man—had been the most important goal in her life.
She’d done it, but now she’d hit some sort of plateau. Nothing seemed to excite her. Not even sex. Oh, that was still fine, but sometimes she actually preferred Mr. Perfect to the real thing. In fact, she’d starting thinking of Mr. Perfect as the real thing. Take him out of his box, elicit five or six quite respectable orgasms, then put him away again. Out of sight. Out of mind.
She had become shallow, but not the way Kristin meant. Maybe it was having turned thirty a couple of months ago. Maybe it was Kristin’s upcoming life change. Who knew? Somewhere along the way, Kirby had stopped experiencing life with passion.
There was only one thing that still managed to excite her, and she could certainly do with a little pick-me-up after the conversation with Kristin.
Yes, what she needed right now was a Jack Taylor fix.
