A Touch of Temptation Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  What Reviewers Say About Julie Blair’s Work

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  Stanford law graduate Kate Dawson is focused on the future laid out for her—partnership in her family’s law firm and marriage. When she moves to a cabin in the Santa Cruz Mountains to study for the bar exam, crossing paths with her intriguing neighbor leads to a journey of sexual awakening and self-discovery that wasn’t part of the plan.

  Landscaper and handsome butch top Chris Brent has a well-deserved reputation as a considerate lover. Avoiding relationships with all their emotional messiness, she indulges in her favorite pastime at sex parties and with casual lovers. She enthusiastically agrees to initiate her cute neighbor to ways of sexual pleasure.

  Sex was the deal. Falling in love ruins everything. Or does it?

  What Reviewers Say About Julie Blair’s Work

  Never Too Late

  “This was an excellent story. Every moment of this book was a joy.”—Rainbow Awards 2015

  Making a Comeback

  “Making a Comeback, by award-winning author Julie Blair, is… a poignant story of love, loss, and love regained. Music—specifically jazz—is at the heart of this book, and the love of music and its beauty infuses every scene. … This is a complex and multi-layered love story. Though unabashedly a romance, it is so much more. The writing is masterful and paints memorable characters with deft and sure strokes, exploring internal and external landscapes with great attention to detail. The prose is complex and well-edited, and I liked that the love scenes are off the beaten, formulaic path. They truly capture passion and add a very special layer of tender love to this wonderful read, which may best be savored with a good glass of wine and your favorite music playing.”—Curve Magazine

  “This story is definitely a roller coaster ride with soaring highs, gut-wrenching vertical plummets, and it is not to be missed. Plus all the sublime musical complexities put this book in a rarified world usually not open to many in life, yet here everyone gets to live the magic as two women make a comeback!”—Rainbow Book Reviews

  A Touch of Temptation

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  A Touch of Temptation

  © 2016 By Julie Blair. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-489-6

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: May 2016

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

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By G. S. Pendergrast

  By the Author

  Never Too Late

  Making a Comeback

  A Touch of Temptation

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Radclyffe for offering me the opportunity to be part of her extraordinary publishing company. Thanks to senior editor Sandy Lowe for making sure this story started in the right direction (and for the pink hammer). Thanks to the talented and dedicated staff at Bold Strokes Books who shepherded my story into a polished book with a beautiful cover.

  Again, working with my editor, Dr. Shelley Thrasher, was a privilege and an education. Thanks for treating my work with care, patience, and a keen eye for detail.

  This story had a new, and at times daunting, set of challenges. I wouldn’t want to undertake any writing journey without the guidance of my writing coach, Deb Norton. Her story wisdom shows on every page.

  Beta readers Ginny, Greta, Suzy, and Pamela graciously read many drafts and provided invaluable feedback. Liz provided expertise from her many years as an attorney. Besides my beta readers, I’m grateful for friends and family who provide encouragement and common sense when needed—Dena and Susan, Patricia, Jac, and Summer.

  And perhaps most important of all, thanks to all of you who sit down and spend some hours with this story. Your support of lesbian fiction keeps it alive and thriving.

  Dedication

  To Suzy, for joining me on this journey and bringing a healthy sense of humor with extra wisdom and a side order of unwavering support.

  Prologue

  Kate Dawson woke as if swimming through rolling surf. Hot. Why was her bedroom so hot? She untangled herself from the sheets and went to open the window. Uh, oh. She rushed into her bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before her stomach heaved. No! Not today. Not. Today. Bracing one hand on the vanity, she held her forehead, squeezing the pounding headache. Dizzy. Shaky. What had she eaten last night? Soup and a sandwich her gran made. That couldn’t be it.

  She turned on the light and snapped her eyes shut against a spike of pain. Opening them gingerly, she tucked hair behind her ears and stared at herself in the mirror. Bags under her eyes she was used to from long hours finishing up her last semester at Stanford and then studying for the bar exam. Skin pale. Cheeks red. Not good. She splashed water on her face. Rinsed her mouth with mouthwash. Took a few sips of water and then swallowed repeatedly to keep it down. No! She couldn’t be sick. She wouldn’t be sick. First day of the California bar exam began in… she walked to the bedroom and squinted at the clock on her desk… five hours. Not today. Please.

  She picked up her phone and read the text from Nic, her best friend, and study partner. Another of the MBE practice questions they’d been blitzing on this last week of prep, sending texts when they weren’t studying together, challenging each other as they had throughout law school. She read the question again. She knew the answer. They’d gone over this yesterday. Damn it. She couldn’t pull it through the fuzziness in her head.

  She tugged her sweat-soaked tank top off and put on the Stanford sweatshirt lying on top of the law books on the bed. Went back to the bathroom and took Advil, praying it stayed down. She crawled under the covers, chilled, and curled onto her side, scrunching the pillow under her head. Pre
ssing her hand against her stomach, she took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. This would pass. Stress and nerves. Sleep it off. Mind over matter. Like when she ran. Focus on the goal. Block out the discomfort.

  She woke with a start when her alarm chirped. Hot again, but the headache was tolerable and she wasn’t queasy. She took a lukewarm shower, dressed in comfortable business attire, and applied extra makeup to hide her flushed cheeks. She took two more Advil and put the bottle in her purse. She’d take more at the lunch break.

  Her legs felt rubbery as she walked down the hallway toward the stairs. Toast and coffee. She could keep that down. She had to leave by six to pick up Nic. There would be heavy traffic across the Bay Bridge to the Oakland test site. No, wait. Nic was picking her up. No, they’d decided she was picking Nic up. Why couldn’t she think straight?

  Halfway down the stairs she gripped the railing with both hands as a wave of dizziness rolled through her. Taking deep breaths, she willed it away. Focus. She was so close to reaching the goal she’d worked for all her life. Passing the bar exam was the final hurdle. She would take the exam. She would pass. She would. Focusing on each step she made it down the stairs and set her purse on the credenza by the front door. Her flats tapped across the marble entryway, quieted through the carpeted living room to the formal dining room.

  She dropped onto her chair to the right of her father’s place at the head of the table. She could picture him in the white shirt and polka-dot bowtie he always wore to the office. He’d come down at five thirty every morning to eat breakfast while reading The Wall Street Journal. When home she’d loved to join him, talking business and world affairs and law. God, she missed him. He’d been killed a year and a half ago, hit by a car as he walked across an intersection on his way to the office. She put her hand over her stomach as nausea flooded her. Deep breaths. I. Am. Fine.

  The French doors to the patio opened and Kate’s gran marched in. Regardless of place or time of day, marching was the best way to describe her no-nonsense strides and perfect posture. She was dressed in a navy suit with starched white shirt, her gray hair in its customary bun. She’d had to come out of retirement after her son’s death to resume managing Dawson Law Firm, one of the oldest estate-planning firms in San Francisco. “Good morning.” She squeezed Kate’s shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “You feel hot. Are you all right?”

  “Just nerves.” Kate’s mother flounced into the room, dressed in her morning attire, a kaftan, pale blue. “She’s never sick. Certainly not on such a monumental day.” She sat across from Kate at the long, highly polished table. “You could have gone lighter on makeup today, Kate.”

  Her gran put her palm to Kate’s forehead. “You have a—”

  “I’m fine.” I. Am. Fine. Kate squinted. The light from the windows hurt her eyes. “Coffee and toast,” she said when their cook appeared. Whatever this was it would wear off. It had to.

  “I didn’t know you were joining us for breakfast, Katherine.” Kate’s mother stirred sugar into the cup of tea the cook set in front of her.

  “I’m not, Cecelia.” Her gran lived in a cottage at the back of the large property she owned in the Pacific Heights district of San Francisco. Since Kate’s father’s death, she rarely joined them for meals in the main house.

  “Oatmeal,” her mother said. “Cream and brown sugar with it.” She opened the San Francisco Chronicle set by her placemat.

  The cook caught Kate’s eye and gave a slight shake of her head. Pointing out that the brown sugar and cream negated any benefit of the otherwise low-calorie meal was a lost cause. Her mother was on a perpetual diet, although her weight was on a perpetual climb.

  Her gran put a small black box on the table. “I am proud of you.”

  Kate opened it and lifted the gold Cross pen from the red-velvet lining. She read the two names engraved in identical italic font. Phillip Dawson. Her grandfather, who’d started Dawson Law Firm in 1941. William Dawson. Her father who’d taken the helm upon his death. Turning the pen she saw the newly added name. Kate Dawson. Her throat tightened as she rubbed her finger over the names.

  “Phillip took the bar exam with this pen,” her gran said. “We gave it to your father the day he started the exam. I’m passing it to you in the same spirit of hoping the practice of law brings you much satisfaction.”

  “Of course being a lawyer will make Kate happy,” her mother said, not looking up from the Chronicle. “Your father would be so proud of you, following in his footsteps.”

  “Oh, Gran.” Kate hugged her and then pulled away as her usually comforting floral perfume made her stomach roll.

  “Good luck, today,” the cook said, setting a cup in front of Kate.

  She sipped cautiously, hoping the coffee stayed down. She needed the fuzziness in her head to clear.

  “Oh, look.” Her mother handed her the Chronicle, open to the society page. “Sylvia Peter’s daughter is engaged. Not a flattering picture. We’ll have yours done professionally. I do hope Todd proposes soon. The best wedding venues book so far in advance. I was thinking—”

  Kate stood. “Have to go.” She steadied herself for a moment with a hand on the back of the chair. Nauseous, and her head throbbed. Pressing her palm to her stomach she walked from the dining room. I. Am. Fine.

  “Remind Todd and Nicole that I’m taking all of you out for dinner tonight,” her mother called out.

  Her gran followed her to the front door and out to the circular driveway. “Let me drive you.”

  Kate continued to her car as a chill shot up her back. “I’m fine.” Tossing her things on the passenger seat, she slid behind the wheel of the red BMW Z4, a graduation present from her mother. She wanted to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. Instead she started the ignition and put it in gear.

  *

  Noises seeped into Kate’s awareness as if from the far end of a tunnel. Echoey. Strange, rhythmic sounds. Machine sounds. Panic rose. When did she fall asleep? Where was she? Her eyelids felt glued in place and she was so, so exhausted. Why couldn’t she remember taking the bar exam? A groan escaped. She hurt. Everywhere. Bad in her hips and lower back. Someone held her hand. Too hard to focus… drift back to…

  “Kate?”

  Beckoning. But she was so tired.

  “Kate.”

  “Gran.” She could barely hear her own voice. It was gravelly and her throat felt like sandpaper.

  “Open your eyes.” Her gran squeezed her hand.

  She knew better than to disobey that voice. She forced them open a crack. Dark except for lights blinking on screens above her, casting the room in a bluish tint. Not her bedroom. “Where… ” The rest of the question took too much effort.

  “UCSF Medical Center. ICU.” Her gran’s usually placid face was creased with worry.

  “What—” She tried to sit up. Winced at the pain.

  “You passed out and ran your car into the Monterey cypress at the end of the driveway.”

  She didn’t remember anything past… what was the last thing she remembered? “How long?” She let her eyelids close.

  “Four days.”

  Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. “Missed… it.” She tried to swallow. Mouth dry. Tears flowed faster as memories of that morning formed in her mind. Missed the bar exam. Noooo.

  “The important thing is to get well.” She stroked Kate’s forearm.

  She forced her eyes back open. “What… happened?”

  “Viral infection. Went to your kidneys.”

  “Kate? Oh, Kate. Thank goodness.” Her mother’s voice from the doorway. Too loud.

  Shhh, Kate thought, but couldn’t muster the energy to say. She winced when her mother took her hand. The one with the IV in it. She peeked up at her and tried to smile.

  “You scared us. Hundred-and-three fever. They put you on dialysis for—”

  “Cecelia.” Her gran’s voice was sharp. “We don’t need to bother Kate with details. She needs rest.”

 
“I’ll call Todd. He’ll want to come right over. And Nicole. Poor dear was so exhausted I had to send her home.”

  Rest. Yes. She closed her eyes, vaguely aware that they continued to talk. She squeezed her gran’s hand. Soft. Callused from working in her garden. Every time she’d floated up she remembered this hand holding hers. She’d failed. It hurt more than the physical pain.

  Chapter One

  Kate woke with a start. Sweaty. Cheeks hot. No! She jerked to a sit and the blanket slipped to her lap. Her racing heart calmed a notch. Blanket. That’s why she was hot. She was on the settee in Gran’s cottage, not a hospital bed. She looked over to the wingback chair where her gran sat, studying her over the rim of her glasses, wisps of gray hair escaping her bun. “How long was I asleep?” She tugged the gray Giants sweatshirt off.

  “Snoring since the top of the second.” The Giants game must be over because the TV was off. Weak daylight came through the window behind the settee. Her gran removed her glasses and set them on the yellow legal pad on her lap. Her black Giants cap was gone, but she still wore the black team shirt, long sleeves pushed up to her elbows. She fixed Kate with her piercing lawyer stare instead of her supportive Gran look. “Good thing one of us had enough sense not to go to the game.”

  Kate was annoyed when she’d suggested they watch it on TV. Crucial game against the Dodgers with only two weeks left in the season and the Giants fighting for a spot in the playoffs. Season ticket holder for decades, her gran had taken her to games since she was a child. They never missed important ones. “I’m fine.”

  “That’s what you said before you crashed your car.”