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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 28

Firm Hands

The story so far:
To Kate’s astonished relief, the Hormone Harlots step in and take control of the entire situation. In fact, they seem to wield an extraordinary degree of control over the wicked Comte de Nothos. Talk about a firm hand!

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com

Kate gripped the phone so hard, the plastic creaked. Her head spun. “Jack,” she croaked at the Hormone Harlots. “Jack’s in my office, he’s—”

Ess turned her pretty head. “Do you trust us, Kate?”

Gulping, Kate nodded.

“This won’t take long.” She shot a sideways glance at the Comte’s pale, brutally handsome face and sighed. “Unless we’ve miscalculated. It’ll all be fine, I promise. Tell them you’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“I’m with…with the client, Shazelle,” said Kate into the phone. “Just finishing him off. I mean— Hell, say to Mr Cavanagh, another half hour, okay? Don’t let him leave.”

“I’ll try,” said Shazelle doubtfully. “Hope you know what you’re doing, Kate.” She rang off.

Tess’s grin it looked a little ragged ’round the edges. “So we’re cool. We got our witness. Do it,” she said to her sister.

Ess pushed a stray wisp of hair off her forehead. Her fingers trembled.

What the—?

The Comte frowned down at her, his dark brows knitted.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 27

Punishment Is its Own Reward

The story so far:
To her astonishment, Kate discovers that she’s been retained as counsel by the Comte de Nothos — in an action against Cavanagh Enterprises. Legally, The Comte’s position is untenable, but he’s refusing to budge. If he won’t listen to Kate, who will he listen to?

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Kate leaned back in her chair, putting on her poker face. “You know who,” she said. “The Hormone Harlots.”

The Comte glared. His face, already pale, went the colour of finest alabaster. “I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,” he said in a voice like ice. “I’m instructing you to pursue the action against Jack Cavanagh, Ms O’Reilly.”

Shit, it wasn’t working. Come on, Rossetti, thought Kate. You can write smut for the discerning anytime. I need you right now.

“You don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell,” she said. If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she might have missed it, but the Comte’s lashes flickered. Kate leaned forward, intent. “I like to win, Comte,” she said. “Not piss off the judge and waste the court’s time.”

Very faintly, she heard a sound from somewhere deep in the building, or was it in her head? Tap, tap, tap.

Holding the Comte’s fathomless gaze, Kate licked her lips. Her heart hammered. “Did you hear that?”

The Comte shifted slightly in his high-backed chair. “This is an office, people work here.” he said.

In the distance, an elevator made a swooshing sound, then a bright ding! The low murmur of female voices drifted through the door, accompanied by the tap of heels, drawing closer.

A slow flush climbed out of the Comte’s collar, reaching his cheeks. Apart from that, however, he’d gone so still he could have sat for a portrait entitled Sex in a Suit.

“I’ll let them in, shall I?”

“No,” croaked the Comte. “I haven’t… They’ll…”

Ignoring him, Kate rose and flung the door open wide.

Arm in arm, Tess and Ess beamed at her. They looked just as she remembered them, except that Tess had purple and red streaks in her hair and a nose stud, while Ess was tricked out in a silk suit the colour of a dove’s breast, with a cream silk blouse and pearls.

“Heya, babe,” beamed Tess.

“Kate, dear,” smiled Ess.

***

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Welcome to the Laced with Desire cross-blog. 

This is our second ‘corset’ anthology together and we had such a blast with the Unlaced cross-blog, we decided to do it again.

This time, Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill and I are talking about clothes - what they do (and don’t do!) for us. Yes, fashion disasters, unwise addictions, sex-kitten outfits - all is revealed. There are even a couple of pictures. Woot! (Possibly.)

Four authors, four blogs - four chances for free books. And it’s easy, just leave a comment. (Photographic evidence not required. heh heh) What’s not to love? Winners announced 9am EST (USA) Wednesday 3rd February.

Visit each of the blogs in turn to check out the giveaways from each author.I’m giving away a set - Unlaced AND Laced with Desire. If you happen to own them both already, I’m sure we can find something else.

I’ve put an easy link for you under each of our responses to the questions about clothes.

Here are the four questions  - 

1. What’s your most appalling shopping weakness, especially when it comes to clothes? Go to Jaci Burton’s blog. Giveaway - an advance review copy of her March release, Bound, Branded and Brazen.

2. What’s your most comfortable outfit and what do you enjoy doing most to relax? Go

to Jasmine Haynes’ blog. Giveaway - autographed copy of Yours for the Night.

 3. What’s your most sexy/naughty-feeling outfit? Go to Joey W. Hill’s blog. Giveaway - a signed copy of Laced with Desire.

4. What’s the outfit that gives you the most confidence? Read on! Giveaway - the set, Unlaced AND Laced with Desire.

Jaci Burton:

I have this sleeveless black dress that I adore. I can dress it up or down, wear a shirt under it if it’s cold outside or put a sweater over it. It’s multifunctional, looks great on me, I can wear heels or boots or flats with it, punk it up or class it up and it still looks great. Everyone should have a basic black dress they can do so many things with. It’ll make you feel great about yourself.

Visit Jaci’s blog for the shopping disasters and Jaci’s giveaway!

Excerpt from Jaci’s story, No Strings Attached.

Jasmine Haynes:

For confidence, I like a suit, feminine lines with a short tailored, form-fitting jacket and a skirt, either calf-length or well above the knee, never knee-length.  Under the suit, of course, very feminine lacy bra and barely there thong panties.  Thigh high stockings top it off.  Professional, feminine, and naughty all rolled into one.

Visit Jasmine’s blog for comfy clothes and Jasmine’s giveaway!

Excerpt from Jasmine’s story, La Petit Mort.

 Joey W. Hill:

That would be this dress. I wore it at the 2009 Romantic Times for the Jungle Party. Typical of an OCD personality type with body image issues, I don’t often feel gorgeous in anything, but I loved this dress. It had sexy lines, and flowed when I walked like I was a romance heroine come out of her chrysalis. It flattered hip line, maximized my minimal cleavage (grin), and had a whimsical flirtiness to it I adored. I found some great Wal-mart White Stag jewelry to go with it for almost nothing, and my mom, who went with me to RT, took this lovely near sunset picture. She was probably trying to commemorate the one time her daughter didn’t look like a bag lady!Of course, on the flip side, sometimes when I’m wearing my most comfortable outfit (see the question on Jasmine’s blog), that’s also when I feel most confident. That’s because it’s the outfit that says “this is the real me”, and there’s always a reassurance to that…as long as I don’t end up in the wrong environment for it. I remember one conference, I brought too many “comfortable clothes”, and when I went to one of the more formal events, I felt far from confident! So matching the setting to the outfit helps. However, when I’m at home and around town, I always feel quite confident in my comfy clothes. Though I think the sexy zebra dress would work anywhere (I plan to wear it to Wal-mart one day for fun – laughter).

Visit Joey’s blog for naughty/sexy outfits and Joey’s giveaway!

Excerpt from Joey’s story, Honor Bound.

Denise Rossetti:

I don’t mind admitting it - clothes are really important to my self-confidence. Feeling over or under dressed, badly groomed or untidy disconcerts me dreadfully. I suspect it’s shallow, but there you go.If I think my day at the Evil Day Job is going to be challenging, I’ll make a point of dressing from the skin out to bolster my confidence.

Matching undies first. Beyond that, I absolutely have to feel ‘put together’. I’m not a frilly or froufrou dresser, I like well-cut classics and a close fit. So it might be belted tailored trousers and shirt, with a jacket and discreet jewelry. I combine rich bright colours with neutrals because they give my skin a lift. Anything beige, dusty or muted and I could get work as an extra on Night of the Living Dead. LOL

I always wear my charm bracelet – I have a charm for every book I’ve written – because it reminds me of who I am and what I can do if I put my mind to it. (If you were wondering why the two silver inkpot/quill charms, they’re my Passionate Plume Awards.)

Excerpt from my story, Rhio’s Dancer.

Tell us about the outfit that makes you feel a million dollars. What’s so special about it?

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 26

Devious Plans

The knock came again. Kate glared at the door as if she could eviscerate the idiot on the other side. “For crying out loud, come in!” But all she could produce was a strained whisper, as if she’d been sobbing in her sleep. Which was ridiculous. Really.

Footsteps moved away, a voice murmuring something to the receptionist.

With a muttered oath, she sprang to her feet, knocked her hip on the corner of the desk and cursed even louder. Rubbing the sore spot, she wrenched the door open. At the far end of the corridor, the receptionist was reaching forward to take a pile of documents from a man with long blond hair, confined in a neat pony tail. He wore an elegantly tailored suit in a charcoal gray. Shazelle’s upturned face was a study in feminine appreciation.

Peter had had hair like that.

Ruthlessly, Kate slammed the lid down before the thought could take on a life of its own. She made a mental note to do a background check on the Rossetti woman. There had to be some dirt somewhere. Everyone had a dirty little secret.

“No problem,” Shazelle was saying, heavily mascaraed eyelashes fluttering like centipedes on speed. “I’ll see she gets them.”

The man murmured something in response that made the girl flush with pleasure. Straightening, he turned toward the foyer and the elevators, his lean body moving with compact grace. Fine, very fine, thought Kate, enjoying the scenery. Of course, Armani did tend to have that effect. The elevator swished open, the man entered, pressed the button and about-faced.

Holy shit.

Designer spectacles that magnified glorious sea-blue eyes, a straight nose, sexy mouth.

“Peter.” She thought she’d shouted, but the word got strangled in her throat.

He gave her a quick appreciative glance up and down, all male. But after a second, his grin stalled, a crease appearing between his brows. The doors of the elevator slid closed on his puzzled face.

“No, no!” She pounded at the `up’ button, almost sobbing with frustration. “Come back, come back!”

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 25

Bumps and Briefs

The story so far:
Duka and the Duchess, Harley and Chan, all disappear into the night, well-satisfied. Kate’s pretty happy too, cuddling up with Jack and dropping off into a happily exhausted sleep. If it wasn’t for the ominous tap, tap, tapping of the Rossetti woman’s keyboard…

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Sometime during the night, Kate woke, tears streaming down her cheeks – even though she never cried. She couldn’t recall the substance of her dreams, but her arms and legs were twined about Jack’s sleeping form as if he were about to be torn from her. Over the regular soothing boom of the surf, she heard the sound she dreaded - tap, tap, tappity, tap. Stubbornly, she clung even harder.

“No,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “I won’t leave him. You can’t make me.”

Tap, tap, tap. The sound sped up, the little clicks running together, merging into a long murmuring rush like tropical rain on the roof. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

Kate’s eyelids drooped like lead shutters. She struggled. “Jack!” She shook his shoulder.

Jack opened one sleepy hazel eye. “Humpf?” he said.

“Hold onto me! Don’t let me go!”

“‘Course not.” Jack slid a warm, appreciative palm over the curve of Kate’s backside. “Never gonna…let…you…let…you…” His words trailed away and his lashes fluttered down.

“Jack? Jack!” When she tried to rouse him, he simply drew her closer, nuzzling the skin under her ear, mumbling unintelligibly. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was drunk. “Hate you, Rossetti,” she muttered. “Hate—” But she was overtaken by a jaw-cracking yawn. Her head swam, images flashing by beneath her eyelids – Duka, with the Duchess over his knee, her upraised bottom a delightful stinging pink; Peter, stretching up to release Tom Cavanagh’s bonds and Tom flushing brick red as he did it; Harley’s bad boy grin and dark tossing curls; the Comte de Nothos, his pale perfect body and shining pointy teeth. Then there was Jack – his tiger gaze, his body cradling hers as they floated in the jungle pool, his hard length buried as deep inside her as it would go. His kisses – hot and wet and searching, tender and coaxing.

Everyone she’d met on Sweet Sisters Isle had found their happiness, even Ess and Tess, the Hormone Harlots. There was nothing left for her to do – except love Jack for the rest of her life. Oh God. Nothing left to do. Nothing at all.

Each vision pulled her further into the dark velvet of unconsciousness, sleep cushioning her like a soft warm blanket, safe forever in Jack’s arms.

It was a lie. She wasn’t safe at all.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 24

Beginnings and Endings

The story so far:
Duka and the Duchess appear to have formed some sort of pact. Meanwhile, Harley and Chan are moving things right along to their inevitable conclusion – until the clock chimes. Oh, no! They’ve run out of time!

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Duka turned his head, his cheek brushing against the soft, white skin of the Duchess’s belly. Imperiously, he snarled, “Don’t stop, ye bastards. You started this, are ye men enough to finish it?”

Out in the garden, Kate held her breath, Jack equally motionless beneath her. The playful little breeze had dropped, the night air balmy and still. Thank God, the crazy Rossetti woman had shut up, not even the faintest tappity, tap of her fingers on the keyboard.

“Oh aye,” growled Harley. “I’m man enough to make ye scream.”

The First Mate was shuddering now, full body tremors, head to toe. Gritting his teeth, he grunted a negative. The Duchess pressed even closer, whispering in his ear.

Harley leaned forward to sling a muscled arm around Duka’s neck. “You’ll never last,” he hissed. “Give it up for me, man.”

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 23

Racing the Clock

The story so far:
Duka is proving remarkably recalcitrant about his submission. The time he promised is slipping away when Harley has an inspiration.

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Kate locked her ankles in the small of Jack’s back and wrapped her arms around his neck. With a luxurious wriggle, she ground down harder on the magnificent length inside her. God, he was buried so deep, she swore she could feel him under her heart. Only then did she follow his gaze.

Her mouth dropped open. Who cared if this was a dream? She’d never forget it - ever.

His hands chained above his head, Duka knelt in the centre of the floor like some pagan sacrifice, his taut body an offering to the dark gods of lust. His head was tilted right back, the Duchess leaning over him, his head cradled in her pale hands, feasting on his mouth. Chan sprawled in front of him, propped up on a pile of pillows, slightly in profile to Kate and Jack, out in the garden. The position meant Kate could see the necklace of dark bruises decorating the smooth strong column of this throat. It also meant she could observe his Adam’s apple bob as he fought to swallow Duka’s fabulous girth. Kate’s mouth watered, just looking. She couldn’t imagine what effect the sight must be having on the Duchess, but every few seconds, the other woman flicked a glance at the tableau from under her downswept lashes. Duka eyes were tightly shut and beads of sweat dotted his brow. His chest heaved with the force of his respiration.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 22

Love’s a Trap

The story so far:
Jack and Kate are safely hidden in the garden, ready to witness Duka’s submission to Harley and Chan. But no one has counted on the Duchess – except, perhaps, Duka.

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

“I hate you,” the Duchess said. “God, how I hate you.” Without warning, she went up on her tiptoes, kissing Duka so hard she almost knocked him back a step. Reaching up, she raked the blindfold away.

In the process, she cannoned into Harley’s arm. He cursed and Duka grunted. But the First Mate’s huge hands came up and clamped onto the Duchess’s shoulders, pulling her hard into his chest. They both hissed when her pale breasts collided with the hard slabs of his chest.

“Ah sweetheart,” mumbled Duka against her lips.

“Shit, can ye hear yerself, man?” snorted Harley.

With a flick of one big brown paw, Duka sent him reeling into the wall, so hard the building shook. Rebounding, Harley disappeared into a pile of cushions. The First Mate didn’t even look up.

Kate pressed her face into Jack’s warm, hard chest to stifle a giggle. His whisper stirred the hair on her temple. “Told ye.”

By the time Harley’s head had emerged from the devouring embrace of silks and satins, the Duchess had half-climbed Duka’s body as if he were a tree, a sturdy jungle giant. He had one palm braced under her raised thigh, his other arm cinched around her waist.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 21

Spectator Sport

The story so far:

The auction’s over. As Jack promised, everyone seems to have obtained their heart’s desire – except Duka. Desperately worried about the First Mate’s Happy Ending, Kate follows Jack into the forests of Sweet Sisters Isle

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Warm lights twinkled in the darkness ahead. Kate tugged on Jack’s hand, drawing him to a halt on the path. “Wait,” she said. “Jack, this is all wrong. Duka’s not the right sort of man. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

Jack gazed down at her, his eyes fathomless pools in the moonlight. “Oh ye of little faith.” In the dark shadow if his trim beard, his teeth flashed in a grin. “Is Peter happy, do you think?”

Kate quivered as a warm questing breeze caressed the nape of her neck. Even without the assistance of the Hormone Harlots, her imagination supplied a mental picture of Peter entwined with big Tom Cavanagh. Peter was nuzzling the First Officer’s chest, his hands busy somewhere else out of sight. Tom’s head fell back and his mouth opened in a helpless groan of pleasure. Kate could have sworn she heard Peter’s delighted chuckle floating on the still night air. “Uh, I guess so,” she said.

“Remember how you pleaded for him, pretty Kate? The crafty little shit.”

Kate wet her lips. “Perhaps I did.” She stiffened her spine and glared. “What of it?”

“I said you’d owe me for that.”

“I never agreed to any such thing!”

Jack’s grin had the devil in it. “Near enough, sweetheart.” He caught her up against his chest, brushing his warm lips over hers in a tingling caress. “Near enough.”

When he set her down, Kate had to clutch at his arm for a moment.

“C’mon,” he said. “Just around the bend.”

Every nerve ending throbbing in concert, Kate let him wrap her fingers in his and draw her forward.

Duka’s home turned out to be very like Jack’s, a large palm-thatched bungalow, but Jack led her to an inconspicuous gate half-hidden by a great overhang of some delicious-smelling flowering vine. Bending his head, he murmured, “You can speak, but not too loudly. All right?”

At Kate’s nod, he opened the gate, ushering her into a dark space full of the gentle rustle of fronds and the pale faces of topical blossoms. Cool, velvety grass brushed her ankles as he led her over to a rattan-cane couch, long and low, furnished lavishly with pillows and cushions and throw-rugs.

In contrast, the empty room they looked into was lit up like a stage, big brass lanterns hanging from the rafters, sliding screens drawn away to open it up one entire to the night breeze. To anyone indoors, she and Jack would be cloaked by the darkness of the garden, virtually invisible.

Voyeurs.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 20

Shrink to Fit

The story so far:

Somehow, Peter has managed to obtain not only Tom Cavanagh, but also his cat, the Lady Meroe. Now there’s only the Comte left. But who’ll be brave enough to bid?

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

The stage was strangely empty without Tom’s huge glowering presence and Peter’s sweet smile. Duka turned to wither the Comte de Nothos with a warning glare. “Keep yer mouth shut, matey, if ye know what’s good for you.”

By way of answer, the Comte’s lips pulled back from his teeth exposing his pointed canines. As his fists clenched, the lamplight gleamed off the silver chains around his wrists. Kate stared. She’d seen him flinch as sparks arced off the metal. Or had she?

Transylvanian Central Casting, without a doubt. She’d thought it from the first moment. That crazy Rossetti.

“Should be interesting,” murmured Jack, his breath stirring her hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at their faces.”

Kate studied the crowd. For once, the pirates were relatively subdued, muttering together, flicking sidelong glances at the lithe, dangerous form of the Comte.

What am I bid?” shouted Duka.

Silence.

Then, “A keg o’ brandy!”

“Three bolts o’ raw silk!”

“Five gold doubloons!”

Duka sighed as he glanced at Jack. “Cap’n?”

Jack shook his head.

Duka turned back to the crowd. “Ye ain’t even reached reserve, ye craven bastards.”

“If ye like him so much, take him yerself!” yelled the pirate with the eye patch.

Kate clutched Jack’s arm. “You promised!”

“Promised what?” His teeth grazed her earlobe as if he were deciding which delicious portion of her body to devour first.

Kate twisted to stare straight into those gold-shot hazel eyes. “You said the magic of Sweet Sisters Isle would work – that they’d all find their heart’s desire.” Thinking of the Comte’s sinister handsome face, his darkly seductive voice, she shivered. “Even him.” The words came out in a shaky whisper. Not like her at all.

Jack’s brow darkened. “Why won’t you trust me, Kate? I always—”

He needs someone to love, observed Ess, alighting on the toe of Jack’s boot and slithering down to recline against his top of his foot like a tiny, pink-clad houri.

***

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