Pretty Face by Sable Hunter
Available on Amazon: http://amzn.to/1EY7oPJ
Cody’s life is defined by two great truths. She is in love…and she has committed a great sin. Cody has been playing with fire and she’s about to get burned. Hungry for attention, she allowed a wonderful man to fall in love with her. Their only contact has been on the internet and telephone conversations. Cody put a good spin on her life by telling half-truths and sending photos of a woman with a beautiful body and a pretty face, only the woman wasn’t Cody. Scarred by abuse, she hides from prying eyes.
Cody loves Hunter enough to let him go. Full of guilt, she is prepared to disappear from his life. Hunter begs to meet her, but she refuses. But if Cody won’t come to him, Hunter will come to Cody.
Louisiana is in the midst of Mardi Gras, a time of love, laughter, and letting the good times roll. Masks are worn at Mardi Gras, and the mask Cody wears will hide more than a pretty face
“Is this Ms. Napier?”
Cody went stock still. Was she mistaken? She cleared her throat and glanced at the read-out. God! It was Hunter. Had he found her? How had he found her? “Yes.” She spoke in her own voice, not the Cajun lilt he was used to hearing from her.
“Hello. My name is Hunter Reed. I got your name from Mr. Treadaway at Home Hardware. I believe you’re looking for someone to redo your kitchen?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “That’s right.” Her head was spinning. This was Hunter! Her Hunter!
“Could I come over and give you an estimate and show you some photos of my work?”
Almost—almost—she told him the job was no longer available. Almost, she hung up on him. Almost, she confessed. But she did none of those things. The temptation to see him, be near him was too great to resist. “Okay.” He probably wouldn’t want the job after he saw the extent of the renovations and found out the age of the cottage. The home was a nineteenth century period structure and the plumbing and electrical wiring was in major need of updating.
“Would it be okay if I came over now? I have the time and I would love to get the ball rolling if you find my work acceptable.”
God, he sounded so professional. Cody sighed. He sounded so beloved. “Sure, of course.” She gave him her address, wishing her voice wasn’t quite so husky. He probably thought she sounded like a guy.
“All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can find your street. I’m new here.”
After he’d hung up, Cody jumped up and ran around the house, picking up and straightening as much as she could. The dogs and cats thought it was a game. They followed, barking and meowing, bouncing around. When she’d done that, it hit her that there were things he’d sent her scattered around also. She had a jewelry box he’d made with his own hands, a photograph of Hunter himself for her nightstand, and a vintage Elvis poster he’d paid top-dollar for. She dashed from room to room and finally Cody felt safe she’d hidden everything that connected Cody to her alias and her cyber life with Hunter.
Out of breath, she sat down, then jumped up, panicking again, realizing she needed to freshen up and put on some makeup. He might not know who she was, but there was no use grossing the man out. With shaking hands, she brushed her teeth, fixed her hair and applied enough lipstick and eyeshadow to make herself halfway presentable. Again, she left off the sunglasses and hat. There was no use hiding behind them, he probably wouldn’t pay much more attention to her now than he did at the airport earlier. Deciding the animals would be better off in the backyard, she turned them out, then stood by the door like she was awaiting an executioner. Still, when the doorbell rang she jerked. Taking a deep breath, Cody slowly opened the door. “Come in.”
Hunter wasn’t in a good mood. He’d missed his turn twice and his cell phone was just about dead. On top of that, he’d left his charger at the first motel room. “Thanks. If you’ll show me the way, we’ll get started.” He wanted to get this show on the road.
After her bout of nerves, the fact that Hunter didn’t even look at her beyond a sideways glance was almost a relief. Heck, he probably didn’t even remember seeing her at the airport. Talk about not making an impression! Cody felt totally invisible. “Sure, follow me.” She took him to the kitchen and pointed out the things she wanted changed. To make things easier, she had photos from magazines and even a little sketch she’d made herself. Holding it out to him, she realized her hands were shaking. Being this close to him was killing her. This was Hunter, her Hunter, and she couldn’t even let on. Out of habit, she kept the scarred side of her face turned away from him as much as possible.
“This is good. Thanks. You did a great job.” Hunter was impressed. The woman seemed a bit nervous, but she had it all together, so different from most clients he dealt with. Usually initial visits were useless because the customer really had no idea what they wanted. It was hard to give an estimate when the parameters of the job were so fluid.
“Thanks.” Cody didn’t know what to do. Her mind was racing, her palms were sweating, and she was scared to death. “I wasn’t sure you’d want the job since the house is so old.”
Hunter took a few steps deeper into her home, glancing at the living room, dining room and the hall that led to the bedrooms. “No, this is right down my alley. I love to work on old homes. I’ve been able to redo a couple in Denver that dated back to the early 1900s. It’s my dream to renovate a plantation or Greek revival home someday.”
Cody was surprised. She hadn’t known that about him. He’d been holding out, she surmised. “You’re certainly in the right part of the world for that opportunity.” Almost she asked him about his plans, but she was too chicken.
“Yea, I am.” His hand reached out to touch the antique paneling. “I just don’t know how long I’ll be here.”
Cody gasped, understanding what he was saying. Quickly, she coughed, attempting to recover. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Yea, that’d be nice.” Hunter sat down at the kitchen table and began to figure prices and materials. He asked her a few questions, which she answered, trying to keep her voice from cracking. Knowing his preference, she went to the refrigerator and instinctively selected a cold root beer, handing it to him. Over the last few months she’d found herself buying and trying things he preferred, just as a way to feel nearer to him.
“Hey, thanks, I love root beer.” He chuckled, opened it, and took a big swig.
Watching him swallow was like watching porn. She shivered. Funny, she would’ve thought being near him and not being able to touch him would be agony. But she was so freakin’ aware of how perfect he was compared to her own imperfections that the idea seemed too farfetched to consider. It was like watching a bird fly. You could admire it from a distance, but you knew there was no way you were going to sprout wings and take flight yourself.
Sable Hunter writes erotic romance. She writes what she likes to read and enjoys putting her fantasies on paper. Her stories are emotional reads where the heroine is faced with challenges, like one of her favorite songs – she’s holding out for a hero – and boy, can she deliver a hero. Her aim is to write a story that will make you laugh, cry and sweat. If she can wring those emotions out of a reader, then she has done her job. She grew up in south Louisiana along the mysterious bayous where the Spanish moss hangs thickly over the dark waters. The culture of Louisiana has shaped her outlook on life and made its way into her novels where the supernatural is entirely normal. Presently, Sable lives in Texas and spends most of her time in wild and wonderful Austin. She is passionate about animals and has been known to charm creatures from a one ton bull to a family of racoons. For fun, Sable has been known to haunt cemeteries and battlefields armed with night-vision cameras and digital recorders hunting proof that love survives beyond the grave. Join her in her world of magic, alpha heroes, sexy cowboys and hot, steamy, to-die-for sex. Step into the shoes of her heroines and escape to places where dreams can come true and orgasms only come in multiples.
CONNECT WITH SABLE
Brought to readers by Beau Coup Publishing