Forbidden Pleasures Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Foreword

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Praise for Private Pleasures

  “One of the best erotic novels I have read this year ... [it] introduces a contemporary heroine who could easily be anyone’s next-door neighbor. With her trademark savvy, sass, and sensuality all wrapped up in one seriously beguiling package, Ms. Small has delivered a winner with this one.”

  —A Romance Review

  “A complete success ... gritty, truthful, and of course, extremely sexy ... Kudos to Ms. Small for once again daring to push the envelope and giving us something different and thought-provoking.”

  —Rendezvous

  “An intimate journey into one woman’s risque fantasies ... intensely satisfying. This sensual page-turner seduces.”

  —Romantic Times

  “[A] XXXX tale ... fans of erotica will enjoy [Private Pleasures].”

  —Midwest Book Review

  And for Bertrice Small

  “Bertrice Small doesn’t just push the limits—she reinvents them.”

  —Literary Times

  “Ms. Small delights and thrills.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Bertrice Small creates cover-to-cover passion.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Readers know they can count on Bertrice Small for a passionate ... romance.”

  —Romantic Times

  BOOKS BY BERTRICE SMALL

  THE FRIARSGATE INHERITANCE

  Rosamund

  Until You

  Philippa

  The Last Heiress

  CONTEMPORARY EROTICA

  Private Pleasures

  Forbidden Pleasures

  THE O‘MALLEY SAGA

  Skye O’Malley

  All the Sweet Tomorrows

  A Love for All Time

  This Heart of Mine

  Lost Love Found

  Wild Jasmine

  SKYE’S LEGACY

  Darling Jasmine

  Bedazzled

  Besieged

  Intrigued

  Just Beyond Tomorrow

  Vixens

  ANTHOLOGIES

  Captivated

  Fascinated

  Delighted

  I Love Rogues

  THE WORLD OF HATAR

  Lara

  A Distant Tomorrow

  MORE BY BERTRICE SMALL

  The Kadin

  Love Wild and Fair

  Adora

  Unconquered

  Beloved

  Enchantress Mine

  Blaze Wyndham

  The Spitfire

  A Moment in Time

  To Love Again

  Love, Remember Me

  The Love Slave

  Hellion

  Betrayed

  Deceived

  The Innocent

  A Memory of Love

  The Duchess

  New American Library

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

  M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England

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  Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

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  Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  Penguin Group (NZ), cnr Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany,

  Auckland 1310, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England

  First published by New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, July 2006

  Copyright © Bertrice Small, 2006

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:

  Small, Bertrice.

  Forbidden pleasures / Bertrice Small.

  p. cm.

  eISBN: 9781101153352

  1. Women novelists—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3569.M28F67 2006

  813’.54—dc22 2005035061

  Set in Sabon

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

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

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For E. G., Paid in full.

  FOREWORD

  The woman in the billing department looked at the record she was typing into the computer, and giggled. “Don’t you ever wonder what Emily Shanski uses the Channel for, Gail?” she said to her fellow worker at Suburban Cable.

  “Hey, like all the rest of us,” Gail answered. “Long, unhurried, incredible sex. I don’t know who invented this network or whatever it is, but I’m sure as hell glad they did.” She looked at her companion. “What do you think it really is, Doreen? I mean there isn’t another channel on the television that actually lets you dream up your personal fantasy, and then lets you physically enjoy it. Do you think it’s magic? Or something worse? Ah hell! Who cares? Well, maybe my old man might if he knew what I was doing when he’s on the night shift,” she cackled.

  Doreen laughed. “Yeah, I guess it’s better we don’t know,” she said. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t want my husband to find out about it. The men would either try to close the Channel down, or they’d want it for themselves. It’s a woman thing.” She hit the print button, and when the bill had rolled out of the printer already folded she put it in the preaddressed stamped envelope. “Lot of women in Egret Pointe using the Channel these days,” she noted. “Hey, it’s noon. Let’s break for lunch, Gail. Too bad the Channel isn’t available now.”

  “Nah,” Gail replied. “It’s better the way it is. If we could get it all the time instead of just between eight p.m. and four a.
m. no one would get anything done. Where do you want to eat? How about the Chinese buffet down the street?”

  “Yeah, Doreen agreed. “I like that place. Get your coat, and let’s go.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’ve got bad news and bad news. Whadaya want first?” Aaron Fischer looked across the large mahogany desk at Emily Shanski, a.k.a. Emilie Shann. He was a stocky man in his sixties who wore impeccably tailored Armani suits, and had beautifully manicured hands. His gray hair, what was left of it, was nicely barbered around his balding pink pate. On the third finger of his left hand he wore a gold band engraved with a Celtic knot. The gold tie pin in his silk tie echoed the same design.

  “You dragged me in from Egret Pointe for bad news?” Emily grumbled. She didn’t like the look in Aaron’s usually warm brown eyes. Those eyes were serious today. It did not bode well. “Okay,” she sighed dramatically. “Gimme the worst of it first. Then the not so worst.”

  “I’m not sure which you’ll consider the worst,” he said slowly. “Kirk!” he called to his business and life partner. “Come in here a moment, will you?”

  Kirkland Browne appeared like a genie from a bottle. Actually his office was directly next to Aaron’s, and they had connecting doors that were usually left open. He was a tall, slender man who seemed to be all angles. He was as well dressed as his partner, and wore both the same ring on his left hand and tie pin in his cravat. “What?” he demanded impatiently, his light blue eyes peering myopically over his gold-rimmed reading glasses. “I’m working on the Scofield contracts, and they’re a bitch.”

  “Emily wants to know which news is worse,” Aaron said with a little shrug.

  “Stratford won’t renew your contract after this last book unless you write sexier,” Kirkland Browne said bluntly. “Now, Aaron, you tell her the rest.” He turned and was gone back into his office before Emily’s surprised gasp died.

  “What? What does he mean, they won’t re-up? I’ve written for them for eleven years, Aaron. My books don’t lose money. My returns are modest, and I have a very large and loyal fan base,” Emily protested.

  “They want sexier. Sexy is in. Kick-ass heroines are in. What can I tell you, Em? It’s the nature of the business now. You’ve got to go with the flow, or retire,” he told her with a little shrug. “You’ve made a lot of money these last years.”

  “I’m thirty-one years old,” Emily said. “I’m too young to retire, damn it!”

  “Then you gotta write sexier,” he replied implacably.

  Emily’s brow furrowed, and she wrinkled her straight little nose. Write sexier? Impossible! Maybe not for some writers, but for her. “Aaron, I have written for Stratford my whole career. I get great reviews. The readers love me. I have a reputation to uphold. Shit! I’m called the American Barbara Cartland. I fill a niche.”

  “Cartland’s dead, and so are her sales,” he said sanguinely. “Besides you’re a much, much better writer than Cartland ever was, Emily. And you write bigger books with better plots, more textured prose, and interesting characters. But you gotta write sexier on this book you’re starting or I can’t guarantee another contract. I wish it weren’t so, and I don’t disagree with anything you’ve said, but there it is, sweetheart. You write first for Stratford, and Stratford wants sexier.”

  “So much for loyalty,” Emily muttered darkly. Then she remembered: bad news, and bad news. “What else?” she asked him nervously. Could there possibly be anything worse than what he had just told her?

  “Rachel Wainwright has retired,” he said, bracing for the outburst that was going to come with this news, and wondering if he should get out the smelling salts in his desk.

  “I talked to Rachel late on Friday morning, Aaron. This is Tuesday. She said nothing about retiring. I think my editor would have mentioned that little fact,” Emily responded in measured tones. “They pushed her out, didn’t they? J. P. Woods pushed her out. She’s never liked Rachel, the bitch.”

  “She retired,” Aaron answered stubbornly. “There is no plot here. For God’s sake, Emily, Rachel’s seventy-five. It was time she enjoyed that house up in Connecticut, and her longtime friend is going to be your new editor. You’ll like him.”

  “Him?” Emily’s voice rose several octaves. “Him? I can’t work with a man!”

  “Michael Devlin is one of the good guys,” Aaron attempted to reassure her.

  “You want me to write sexier, and work with a man while doing it?” Emily’s heart was pounding now. Her perfect, orderly little world was being destroyed, and she couldn’t see any way to stop it. Of course, she could write her book, hand it in, and be finished with publishing forever. She didn’t lack for money. But what would she do with the rest of her life if she didn’t write novels? It was all she knew. Her passion. Her raison d’être. She sighed. She didn’t want to stop writing, and she wasn’t going to, damn it! There had to be a way around this edict from Stratford.

  “I’ve arranged for us to have lunch with Michael Devlin at that little English tea shop you like over on Madison. Then you can catch the train out to Egret Pointe.”

  “Today? I have to meet this guy today? And I didn’t take the train,” Emily said. “I came into town with your sister. She wanted a day at Georgette Klinger. Then she’ll do some shopping until I call her cell.” God! If she had known she was having lunch with a new editor she would have dressed a bit more appropriately, worn one of her best-selling-author power suits. She felt tougher in a suit.

  “Rina’s in town?” He was surprised. His sister rarely came into town. “She didn’t tell me she was coming.” He loved Rina, but she made him nervous.

  “She didn’t want to go to lunch with us,” Emily said with a small smile. “Sam says she’s getting too plump and needs to take off a few pounds for her health. She’s eating spa nibbles at Klinger’s. You know how she gets on rabbit food.”

  “If she’d lay off the doughnuts she could drop her avoirdupois easily,” Aaron replied, “but don’t tell her I said so.”

  Emily laughed. “I won’t, but jelly sticks are her downfall, I’ll admit.” Then she grew serious again. “I want to talk to Rachel before we go to lunch, Aaron.”

  He got up from his desk and, walking around it, said, “Use my phone. Don’t waste your cell minutes, sweetheart. Rachel’s Connecticut house is seven on my speed dial.” At her surprised look he added, “Kirk and I go up for weekends.” Then he left the room.

  Emily stood up, walked around the desk, and settled herself in Aaron’s comfortable big black leather chair. She heard a small click, and turned to see that the connecting door between his office and Kirk’s had been discreetly closed. Picking up the telephone she hit seven, and listened to the electronic beeps as the number dialed itself. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Please be there, Rachel, she thought desperately.

  “Hello?” Rachel’s warm voice came through the wire.

  “Rachel, it’s Emily. What happened? And why am I getting a male editor?”

  Rachel Wainwright’s grandmotherly chuckle greeted her query. “Have you met him yet? He’s quite a hunk, Emily,” she said. “If I were forty years younger I’d jump his bones. Honey, it was time I retired. Actually past time. Getting up and going to work at Stratford every day was just a habit. A bad habit.”

  “Will you stay in Connecticut?” Emily asked her.

  “Yep. I’m putting the co-op on the market shortly, and retiring to the country for good and all,” Rachel Wainwright said in a no-nonsense voice.

  “Rachel ...” Emily hesitated. “Will you be all right?”

  “Oh, you sweet child! Yes, I will be all right. Martin has seen to it that I have a rather outrageous pension. Loyalty to Stratford paid off in the long run for me. Not like a lot of old editors in chief. I bought the co-op almost fifty years back. My father always said real estate was the best investment. It was paid off aeons ago, and in this market it is going to bring me a fortune. And with no one but myself to look after I won’t suffer financi
ally, my dear. And I’ve done pretty well in the investment market. I’m going to England in June, and I’ve rented a villa in Tuscany for August. Want to come visit?”

  “They want me to write sexier, Rachel. I don’t think I can,” Emily said. “Aaron and Kirk said they won’t renew my contract if I don’t. I don’t think a trip to Tuscany is in the cards for me this year, but it sounds heavenly.”

  “Aaron and Kirk are right,” Rachel replied quietly, “but not to panic, Emily. You are a wonderful writer, and you can do this. I know you can. And you will have a marvelous editor in Michael Devlin. I’ve worked with him myself, and he knows how to bring out the best in his writers, my dear.”

  “His name is familiar,” Emily said, “but I can’t quite place him.”

  Rachel chuckled. “Okay, I’m going to tell you the story, but you have to promise me that you won’t repeat it. Oh, Aaron and Kirk know it, but it’s pretty hot stuff.”

  “Ohh, tell, tell!” Emily replied. “You know I love good gossip.”

  “Seven years ago Michael Devlin came to Stratford from Random House. He was already becoming well-known as an excellent editor, and Martin Stratford lured him over with the promise of his own imprint eventually. J.P. noticed him almost immediately. She had just become company president. I know you’ve heard the rumors about her, and they are all true.” Rachel laughed. “She’s Stratford’s resident man-eater. She uses ‘em and abuses ’em, and then moves on to her next victim. And because the lovers she chose were below her on the corporate scale, no one who valued his job ever caused a scandal or complained about her.