Tempting Perfection Read online

  Tempting Perfection

  a novel by

  Kristin Mayer

  Tempting Perfection

  Copyright © 2017 by Kristin Mayer

  Published by K. Mayer Enterprises, INC.

  Cover Design: Sommer Stein with Perfect Pear Creations

  Interior Designer: JT Formatting

  Editor: Jen Matera at Write Divas

  All rights reserved.

  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.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Visit my website:

  http://www.authorkristinmayer.com/

  This book is dedicated to George.

  You are the definition of man’s best friend.

  You were always there for Dad.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Epilogue

  Exclusive Sneak Peek of Intoxicated by You

  Tempting Perfection Playlist

  Preview of Kelly Elliott's Lost Love

  Other Books by Kristin Mayer

  Chapter One

  Sawyer

  With a frustrated sigh, I blew out a breath and glanced at the clock. One o’clock in the fucking morning. Another night of restless sleep. It had been like this since the week after Thanksgiving—the week that changed my life. I rolled over and batted away the covers as they tangled around me. At the rate I was going, I would never sleep again. Kurt Hendrix had ruined me forever, and worse yet, he was my roommate. Having him near was heaven and hell wrapped up in one tall, blue-eyed, smoking-hot package.

  The ticking of the second clock Kurt gave me echoed through the room. I flipped on the lamp and groaned. Kurt’s face was everywhere in my room—ceiling, walls, bedspread, the clock face, even my furniture. When I came to live at Shaw Towers, Kurt had replaced all my furnishings with merchandise from his band, Reverence. Having him surround me like this, all the time, was almost unbearable.

  Well, two can play at that game.

  Tonight, before bed, I snuck into Kurt’s room and spritzed my body spray on his pillows. In LA, he’d mentioned multiple times how the scent drove him crazy. I knew it was childish, but I couldn’t help it.

  I hope he’s as miserable as I am right now.

  I flicked off the light and dropped my head against the pillow. The time we’d spent away from each other at Christmas had not helped. In fact, we’d talked several times a day. We were drawn to each other like magnets. When I was near him, I felt complete. The air changed when he neared, causing the sparks to almost be palpable.

  But…Kurt and I were stuck in a pattern. And it wasn’t healthy for either of us.

  We flirted.

  We played practical jokes.

  We fought.

  He distanced himself.

  Yet, I knew he cared for me. I could feel it. And I was crazy about him. The week we traveled to LA on business, something had happened. He’d let down his defenses—he’d let me in. Now, we were back to square one…except now I knew what it felt like to be in his arms and feel his walls disappear. It was perfection.

  I heard the door across the hall creak open. I lay still and waited.

  “Merry Christmas!” the animatronic figure outside Kurt’s door screeched.

  “Motherfucker!” Kurt yelled. There was some other banging noise. “Ouch! Sawyer! Christmas is over, for shit’s sake.”

  I covered my mouth and giggled. Kurt had apparently found the motion-activated Rudolph in the hallway.

  My door flew open, and I bolted upright as Kurt flipped on the light. “What in the hell is out there with those demon-red eyes? I thought this stuff would be gone by now.” Kurt was aggravated, raking his fingers through his coal-black hair. He pinned me with his stare. “That was not there when I went to bed.”

  I gave him a sweet smile. It was hard not to gloat when I’d been clearly winning the battle lately. “I found Rudolph at Goodwill today. He was only five dollars. An after-Christmas bargain, if you ask me.”

  The figure’s creator had made Rudolph’s eyes glow red instead of his nose. Oops. Someone’s manufacturing mistake was my good fortune.

  Kurt’s jaw worked, and his sapphire-blue eyes blazed with irritation. I was obsessed with all things Christmas. The first of November marked the day decorating began. Normally, though, I kept it tasteful. But after Kurt had gone on his “Save the Turkey” campaign at Thanksgiving, I’d gone a little overboard to get some revenge. Kurt had nearly brought me to my knees with his lack of organization and untidiness and by sewing “Kurt’s roomie” labels in my clothes and mixing up my perfectly color-coded sticky-note lists.

  I was a bit of a neat freak. Everything had a place and an order. Kurt tended to be the exact opposite.

  Out in the living room, Frosty began to sing on his timer. I snickered while Kurt blew out an exasperated breath. Honestly, I had turned the apartment we shared into something of a nightmare this season. Rudolph’s lyrics tapered off, leaving Frosty to sing on his own.

  Shifting, Kurt cocked an eyebrow. My eyes dropped to the chest I laid my head against, the arms that once held me, then his tapered waist where his black boxers met his skin. Goosebumps formed along my skin as I remembered him holding me like I was the air he needed to breathe. Oh, the things he’d whispered as he made love to me.

  “Sawyer, you make me question everything.”

  And then…everything had changed.

  With an innocent tone and a smile to match, I asked, “So, do you like? I figured you’d want to keep the Christmas spirit going a little longer—at least until New Year’s.”

  “You…I…” He threw his hands in the air and walked out. As he turned, the tattoo on his left shoulder caught my attention. It was a bar of music. Reading music wasn’t a skill I’d ever needed to learn, so I had no idea what it meant. The one time I asked, he’d pulled away, so I left it alone. From that point forward, Kurt slowly withdrew from me. By the time I’d returned to Orlando, I’d completely lost him.

  From the hallway, he muttered, “Why? Why? Why? Fucking why me?”

  Something about the way he said it, like all this was my fault, irritated me. I pushed the covers aside and marched out of the room toward the sound of him banging around the kitchen. I came around the corner and folded my arms across my chest.

  “You know, I’m not the one who started this war. I still don’t have my stuff back. My room is still covered in Reverence shit. And, I might add, I still haven’t found all the sticky notes you randomly hid around the house. So please tell me—what is your problem?”

  Kurt pulled the milk jug out of the refrigerator and drank straight from it. He knew ho
w I hated that. Little things like that drove me nuts, but I couldn’t stop the attraction to him. Insane—total stupidity.

  He turned to face me as he chugged, eyebrow raised as if daring me to challenge him. I narrowed my eyes at him. We had officially moved to the fighting stage of our little cycle. A weariness came over me. I was tired of whatever this was between us.

  Get a grip. Otherwise, he’ll only egg me on worse. Maybe if I misplace his beloved leather jacket. No, no, no, I will not stoop lower.

  He continued to bang around the kitchen after he put the lid back on the jug, albeit crookedly. I ground my teeth when he put it in the wrong spot in the fridge. I was distracted by the muscles in his back as they rippled with tension. Deep breaths.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Something. I can’t sleep.”

  “Me either. Wonder why.” If I could add any more sarcasm to my voice, I’d be considered overdramatic. Well, maybe I was that anyway. But only when it was warranted—like when a certain Mr. Rockstar needed to be put in his place.

  Over his shoulder he glanced my way, his eyes piercing mine. The dark rings under his showed his exhaustion. Softer, he asked, “Why can’t you?”

  “Why can’t you?” I retorted. No way was I going to make a fool of myself and expose what was going on until he made the first move.

  His eyebrow rose in an are-you-serious? look. In the depth of his eyes, I saw a glimmer of something else. It was the carnal lust we’d experienced in LA. Just thinking about it brought tingles of anticipation low in my belly. I waited for him to say something, anything, to acknowledge what we’d shared. He simply stared at me.

  What went wrong? What made him pull away? Once we returned from LA, I thought things would be amazing. Even when we landed, things seemed to be okay. It wasn’t until after we’d had dinner with Knoah, Garrick, and their family everything changed. Kurt had severed any sexual ties we had once we crossed into our apartment. I thought we would have an explosive night of sex; instead, I cried myself to sleep.

  His words still chipped away at my heart. “We can’t continue this, Sawyer. What we had stays in LA. It’s best not to shit where you eat.”

  Asshole.

  Clearing his throat, he turned his head and took a deep breath. “It’s band stuff. The road trip across America.”

  Inside, my heart deflated a little at his words. I guess my body spray had had zero effect. To distract myself, I straightened the napkins in the holder on the counter. “The concerts will be good. With the larger venues, your ticket sales are up. The tour across America has your fans excited about going back to the basics. I would estimate this will be a record-setting year.”

  “Yeah.” As he opened another cabinet, though, it seemed like the furthest thing from his mind. “You ready to be stuck on a tour bus with me for a bit?”

  Two days before the first of the year, we were heading to LA to get on a bus. The first gig was scheduled for New Year’s Eve. It was going to be the worst kind torture. Since we were already roomies, Kurt suggested we continue that on the road to make it easier to work. At the time, I’d thought we’d spend our time making passionate love as we rolled down the highway.

  Wrong.

  I responded, “I’m thinking Rudolph would be a great addition.”

  The thought of being in a confined space alone with Kurt terrified me. But I had to get my wits about me and come to grips with the fact that it was over between us. And somehow, I had to move on.

  A tired chuckle left him. “Are killer bunnies going to come out at Easter?”

  “Maybe…but Valentine’s Day comes first. I’m thinking singing hearts and cupids.”

  He tensed. “Worst fucking holiday of the year. All those poor saps pouring their hearts out.”

  The way he said it reiterated just how much he was against relationships. I turned away to grab a water from the fridge, closing my eyes as I tried to keep the devastation at bay. It’s over. Truly over.

  But before I was stuck on a bus with him, I needed to get away and sort out my thoughts. Get strong again. Figure out how to move past this. Find myself in the wake of all things Kurt Hendrix.

  An idea began to form. Tomorrow I would work out the specifics, but tonight I would lay the groundwork. “Hey, I forgot to mention I’m going on a mini trip tomorrow for some R and R before the tour.”

  When he didn’t respond, I turned to face him. His brow was cocked as he watched me. “When did this come up?”

  I flicked my wrist as if it were no big deal. “I decided to book it the other day.” I met Kurt’s gaze, and his blue eyes searched mine. I kept my eyes steady and locked on his. If I looked away, he’d know something was up. To keep it light, I added, “You going to miss your roomie?”

  “Where are you going? Who are you going with?” The possessive tone was clear, and it was hard not to cling to it. But I pushed it away.

  “Destin.” As for the rest of the question, I left it unanswered. Before he had a chance to say anything else, I let out a yawn that probably sounded fake. “I’m going to hit the sack. I’ll get all the Christmas stuff picked up before I go. Night, Kurt.”

  “Sawyer?”

  I turned, my heart stopping. Conflict flashed across his face.

  “Yes?”

  Please tell me how you really feel. Don’t let me leave for Destin.

  There was another long pause before he turned his eyes back to the counter and his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “Night, Sawyer.”

  “Night.”

  Moving forward had become a necessity.

  Chapter Two

  Sawyer

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

  The mover handed me a clipboard. “No problem. Would you sign here?”

  I scribbled my signature across the bottom line. This morning, I’d called the movers to come haul away all the horrid Christmas decorations before I left for Destin. When we got back from the tour in three months, the last thing I’d want to deal with was holiday decorations.

  “Thanks. Hope you have a happy New Year.” I handed the younger man in the blue uniform his clipboard.

  “You, too, ma’am.”

  When the door closed, the apartment felt oddly empty. I straightened Kurt’s boots where they sat by the front door. His philosophy was “Why not leave them where I’ll next need them.” Inside, I felt like a crazy person. These quirks that drove me insane endeared him to me more. I loved his craziness, yet I could envision myself strangling him with the sleeves of his leather jacket, which hung on the back of a chair.

  I chuckled. We’re quite the pair. Or we would be if he would give us a chance.

  Checking the time, I saw that it was a little after ten. Kurt had left for an appointment with his lawyers. His record label had released a recording of him and Knoah without their consent. My best friend had a beautiful voice that harmonized perfectly with Kurt’s. I’d heard the recording of “Lost,” and it was mesmerizing. Overall, though, the release had created a marketing nightmare. His fans wanted the woman to sing with Kurt on stage, but that wasn’t going to happen. Knoah wanted no part of the rock-star life. And Kurt refused to let another woman sing the song. From what Knoah had told me, the song was about surviving Dylan’s—Kurt’s best friend’s and Knoah’s first husband’s—death. From the loss I’d experienced, I understood.

  Garrick Shaw, Knoah’s current husband, would also be at the meeting to make sure the label paid for their mistake. Garrick took care of my best friend, always putting her best interest first. He was a good man. Such devotion from a man was something I yearned to experience in my lifetime.

  I took out a few sticky notes and put them on the fridge with reminders for Kurt:

  Review travel folder on desk

  Decide regarding Colorado venue

  Sign the New York agreement

  For the first time in a long time, I enjoyed my job—loved it. But the man connected to it was another story. Until Thanksgiving, I had been the marketing manager for Reverence through my brother’s firm. Kurt asked me to be his assistant and liaison with the various companies he dealt with. The amount of trust that required warmed me. Though my brother, Cameron, hated to see me go, he knew it was a better offer for me, career wise.