KeyParty Read online

  Key Party

  Jayne Kingston

  Book 1 of the Mischievous Matchmaker series.

  After years of living abroad, Rachel has returned to Chicago. As a welcome-home present, one of her best friends throws a seventies-style key party. A night of mingling and anonymous sex with one of Petra’s hunky friends seems perfect.

  Petra knows about the crush Rachel had on Ben in college, and she rigs the game so Rachel ends up with the very fine young doctor. But Petra doesn’t know the whole story. Rachel never told her friend about the scorching-hot make-out session that is now Rachel’s go-to sexual fantasy.

  And neither of them could know Ben is more than looking forward to showing Rachel every carnal moment she missed when she left without finishing what they’d started that night.

  A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  KEY PARTY

  Jayne Kingston

  Chapter One

  “Exactly what does one wear to a key party?”

  Rachel stood in her closet wrapped in a towel, hair still wet, looking through the meager selection of her clothes that made it back to Chicago from London.

  “What do you have that’s sexy?” Petra asked, joining her in the narrow space. She curled her lip as she flipped through hangers. “Nothing.” She gave an impatient snick of the tongue and shook her head. “We should have gone shopping days ago,” she muttered.

  “The last thing I need is to buy more clothes. Just wait until you see how much I have when my boxes finally get here.” Some moron with the shipping company she’d used had mislabeled her boxes. They were currently on their way to Illinois from Washington—the state, not D.C.—where they’d been sent by mistake. “I may have to rent a second bedroom from you.”

  “Darling, the whole floor is yours.”

  She was staying in the nearly empty third floor of Petra and her boyfriend Jude’s Lincoln Park graystone until she found a new job and a place of her own. Petra had recently inherited it from an uncle who’d permanently retired to Florida, and hadn’t quite decided what to do with the extra space.

  Rachel had barely gotten the words “I want to come home” out of her mouth before Petra offered her the use of the rooms for as long as she needed them.

  Rachel sat on the edge of her brand-new sleigh bed.

  “I should sit tonight out anyway,” she said with a heavy sigh. A weariness that was becoming all too familiar threatened to cast a shadow over the good mood she’d managed to maintain all afternoon. “I mean, really? A key party? This isn’t the swinging seventies, you know.”

  “Busha always says the best way to get over one man is to get under another. Ooh, I love this,” Petra breathed, emerging from the back of the closet with an ultra-short sheath dangling from a hanger.

  “That’s from a flapper-girl costume I wore for Halloween three years ago.” How that had made the trip when not a single pair of her jeans had, she’d never know.

  “It must have been a pretty swanky Halloween party. This thing is gorgeous.”

  “Thanks.” She had to admit she loved the dress, and the way her legs looked in it. “I’m sure your sweet little grandmother would never recommend anonymous sex with a stranger as therapy for getting over a jerk boyfriend.”

  “Hey, don’t knock Busha’s advice. She’s very progressive.” Petra gave the dress a little shake, making the metallic, cream-colored material shimmer. “And it’s not exactly anonymous. Everyone who’s coming tonight is a friend of ours. A good friend of ours in one way or another.”

  “Well, I’m not exactly brokenhearted either,” she countered, knowing damn well she wasn’t fooling anyone. Especially not Petra, who proved it by rolling her eyes.

  To say that Rachel’s relationship with Neal had been whirlwind was putting it mildly. Her job as a massage therapist on a cruise ship took her out to sea for eight months at a time, leaving her with four months between contracts to do whatever she pleased. During her breaks, when she hadn’t gone home to visit her parents, she’d shared a flat with two other girls who worked for the same London-based company.

  On the last break she’d had before deciding to come home, she’d met Neal while she and her friends were out getting their land legs back. He’d been a new bartender at their favorite local pub—it being their favorite because it was within staggering distance of their flat. She’d been drunk and feeling bolder than usual. He’d invited her back to his place after hours and she was living with him by the end of the break.

  He’d been sweet, funny and charming, and the most gorgeous man she’d dated. They’d spent his days off in bed, cooking or seeing the city, but mostly in bed. On his nights off from the pub they usually went to underground clubs and listened to up-and-coming indie bands. When he worked she was content to spend the evening in his flat reading, catching up with her family and friends back in the States or going out with her friends.

  At the end of her break he’d driven her to the cruise ship, kissed her goodbye and promised he’d be waiting for her when she returned. She’d believed him right up to the end of her next contract when she’d called to tell him what time she’d needed to be picked up and a woman answered his phone and then demanded to know why Rachel was calling her boyfriend.

  Her flatmates tried to console her, but she knew they weren’t a bit surprised that he’d moved on while she’d been gone. When she thought back on how quickly Neal had gotten involved with her Rachel thought maybe she should have seen it coming as well, but she’d been completely blindsided.

  Heartbreak only compounded a homesickness she could no longer ignore. Having to change her lifestyle so completely over and over again every time she moved from ship to shore had become exhausting, physically and emotionally. She wanted to be near her parents again, no matter what kind of relationship she’d had with them before she left. And yes, she’d adored her flatmates, but they were not Petra and Bree.

  “You should definitely wear this tonight.” Petra held the dress toward Rachel and squinted as though she were imagining her in it. “It’s perfect with that sassy short haircut of yours. Have I told you today how much I love it?”

  “Not yet today.” Rachel touched her wet, dark-blonde hair. She’d had it cut into a short, angular bob by one of the new hairdressers on the last ship she’d worked on. The cut was perfect for her big, unruly curls—off her neck in the back and slightly longer in the front. All she had to do was wash it and let it do its thing as it air-dried.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” She took the dress from Petra and laid it next to her on the bed.

  “Honey, if you’re worried someone is going to treat you like the odd girl out because this is your first time, don’t. Everyone coming has been in your shoes at one point or another. Do you really want to sit up here by yourself all night listening to everyone else having fun downstairs?”

  “I am in the middle of a really good book.”

  “No.” Petra put her hands up. “Every single one of the men coming tonight is hot as hell. And seriously, is your vibrator that good that you no longer need to get laid?”

  Rachel flopped back onto the bed and groaned.

  “My vibrator is still on its way back from England.”

  God, she did need to get laid.

  She did the math counting back from the two weeks she’d been back in Illinois to the last time she and Neal had been together and nearly choked on how long it had been. On top of that, the goodbye sex hadn’t been anything special.

  If she was going to be honest with herself, sex with Neal had never been all that special, even if it had seemed as though he couldn’t get enough of her at the time. Sure, he’d been underwear model hot, but when it came right down to it, hot didn’t equal skill, and quantit
y was not quality.

  Petra leaped onto the bed over Rachel, the bangles on her wrists jingling as she landed on all fours with her hands on either side of Rachel’s head and her knees squeezing her hips.

  “Is a vibrator better than being wrapped naked around a grunting, sweating man while he drives his big, hard body into you over and over again?” she asked, thrusting her narrow hips for emphasis on the words big, hard and body.

  “That was really graphic,” Rachel said, laughing even as her body started to tingle a little at the thought. No, she was not going to sit the party out.

  “I promise you, there isn’t one man coming tonight who won’t be able to live up to the image I just put in your head,” Petra breathed, her long dark hair falling on either side of Rachel’s face like a curtain as she leaned in.

  Rachel sighed, feigning reluctance. “Fine. I’ll get dressed.”

  “Good girl.” Petra kissed her on the mouth and hopped off the bed. “I’m going to see if I have a dress that’s even remotely as sexy as yours. Oh,” she turned in the doorway, “wear those sky-high black heels and the little white lace bra and panties you bought the other day.”

  Rachel looked at her upside down. “The back on the dress is too low for a bra.”

  Petra’s eyelids dropped to half-mast and the corners of her mouth curled.

  “Even better,” she purred, and disappeared from view.

  “Hey, Pete,” Rachel called, rolling onto her stomach.

  Petra poked her head back into the room.

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh darling, the night hasn’t begun yet.”

  * * * * *

  It was another hour and a half before Rachel joined the party. She’d taken her time, steadying her nerves through the ritual of getting ready. Her whole body had been treated to the shimmering, spicy scented lotion she only used on special occasions. Her makeup had been carefully applied, and she’d actually styled her hair instead of just letting it go wild and untamed.

  The time and care she’d taken didn’t completely subdue her nerves. She still felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as she paused on the first-floor landing and took a deep breath before heading down the last flight of stairs.

  The party had started while she’d been getting ready. The ground floor of the long, narrow house held about a dozen or so young medical professionals from Jude and Petra’s circle of friends. And they were all beautiful, just as Petra promised.

  Heads turned as she descended, and for a moment she panicked at having so many new people looking at her the way they were. She didn’t harbor any delusions that she was pretty—she had a funny, upturned nose, and her fat bottom lip was so different from the thinner, curvy upper it looked as though she’d borrowed it from someone else. She’d heard how pretty her green eyes were enough times to get the idea there might be something to that, but she knew the real reason everyone was looking.

  At five foot ten in her bare feet, she was tall for a woman and not delicately built by any stretch of the imagination. In four-inch heels she was a giant.

  The first floor of the house was one long room semi-divided by gorgeous wooden archways. A person could stand at the front door and look all the way through the living and dining rooms to the back door. There was a half bath tucked under the stairway and a small pantry and laundry room off the kitchen, but it was otherwise fairly open, and beautifully decorated in rich blues and grays, the lines as modern and sleek as the home’s owners.

  Rachel found Jude and Petra both at the makeshift bar in the dining room.

  “Jesus, you’re a knockout,” Jude said, his eyes twinkling.

  Jude and Petra both had an androgynous look about them, but he was definitely the softer of the two. Both were long and willowy, but Petra was made of angular lines, unnervingly pale-blue eyes and dark hair. Jude on the other hand was a sunny blond with warm, chocolaty-brown eyes and an almost feminine mouth that was hard to resist watching when he talked.

  “Honey, are you sure we can’t play tonight?” he asked Petra.

  Petra smiled appreciatively. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and end up with an odd number of people so we can tag-team her.”

  Jude held up one hand, fingers crossed.

  “I’m nervous as hell,” Rachel said, taking the whiskey and Coke Jude handed her. “I don’t know anyone here but you two. And Bree,” she added, catching sight of the third of her and Petra’s trio across the room.

  “It’s like being a kid in a candy store with a fistful of birthday money, isn’t it?”

  “If you say so,” she muttered skeptically, watching Bree flirt with a big blond.

  Bree caught Rachel’s eye and winked at her across the room, tossed her curly brown hair over her shoulder and turned her huge doe eyes back to her companion.

  Rachel flinched when Petra clinked their glasses together.

  “Welcome home,” Petra said, and sipped.

  Rachel watched a tall redhead nearly fill the foyer as he came in the front door. Her heart just about stopped. He was ruggedly beautiful, with bright, coppery-red hair pulled into a short ponytail and eyes that were a rich, vivid blue she could see all the way across the room. He was huge, broad-shouldered and long-limbed—just the kind of man who could make a tall woman like herself feel like a delicate flower.

  No sooner had she opened her mouth to tell Petra she hoped she got his keys later that night than he stepped sideways out of the foyer. He turned to laugh with the guy behind him and the words froze on her tongue. The blood rushed from her head and her heart really did stop for a moment.

  Ben Richards—not quite as tall or broad as the redhead but long and great shouldered just the same—said something that made them both laugh harder as they made quite the entrance into the room.

  Just like that, seven years vanished. Rachel could vividly remember what it had been like to be pinned beneath him on his couch, drowning in his mouth—both wildly lush and utterly masculine—as he kissed her freakin’ socks off. She shivered as she recalled the way his thick black hair felt clutched in her hands, and how he hadn’t closed his rich gray eyes but watched her while they kissed. And the way his long fingers had felt sliding under the hem her sweatshirt to skim over her skin had been something she would never forget.

  They’d been studying so long that night the sun had started to show through the window of the tiny apartment he’d had just off campus. After hours of trying everything he could imagine to help her understand something, anything, about the chemistry class she was failing, work devolved into her collapsing in a fit of delirious giggles. He’d grabbed her, probably out of frustration and his own need to blow off some steam, and kissed her.

  It was still the single hottest make-out session of her life.

  And the last time she’d seen him.

  Oh God.

  “What’s he doing here?” she whispered to Petra. She turned slightly to the side in an effort to delay him seeing her. If he even remembered her.

  “Who?” Petra looked toward the door. “My friend Alex? I’ve told you about him. He works with me on the pediatric floor of the hospital. Also a nurse. He’s a lot of fun to hang out with, but it’s hard to take him out in public. Women of all ages pretty much soak their panties when he walks into a room. Delish, isn’t he?”

  Rachel slid Petra a look.

  “Seriously, it’s like someone turned the air down to arctic in the room no matter where we are. Every time. Nipples start poking through shirts, butts start squirming in chairs.” Petra smirked when Rachel narrowed her eyes.

  She knew damn well who Rachel really meant.

  “Oh,” Petra breathed, as though it just dawned on her. “You mean the good Dr. Richards? Did I forget to mention he was coming tonight?” she asked, still playing coy.

  “It must have slipped your little pea brain,” Rachel said dryly.

  Petra didn’t forget anything, ever. She knew all about the ridiculous crush Rachel had on him back in the day.

 
“It took Jude forever to talk him into coming around,” she heard Petra say through the blood rushing through her ears. “He’s only been here twice, but he’s quite popular, as you can see.”

  She could see. One woman had already caught his attention and two more were heading in his direction, waiting their turn. Although from the way the first one was moving in close, it didn’t look as if they were going to get their chance to talk to him any time soon. Who could blame them? Any of them?

  From her vantage point she could see the years had melted the boyishly cute from his face and left him looking rather exotic. He still exuded the same easy confidence she remembered him having all those years ago. And he was mouthwatering delicious in a dark-gray shirt—unbuttoned a couple of buttons and pulling just the right amount across his gorgeous, muscular chest—and beautifully cut black dress pants.

  She took a long drink and handed her glass to Jude to be topped off. “A little warning that he was going to be here would have been nice.”

  “Oh, but the element of surprise is so much more fun.” Petra laughed softly and hooked her arm through Rachel’s. “You ready for a little mingling, beautiful?”

  Chapter Two

  Ben was very interested in finding out who Petra was talking to. He couldn’t really see anything but the back of her, but that was quite a view in and of itself.

  As far as he could tell those sexy-as-fuck heels she was wearing put her pretty close to eye level with his height of six foot three. Her wild, caramel-colored curls were short in the back, exposing a double cowlick at her hairline that looked like the point of a heart showing the way down the long line of her neck. The bare skin of her shoulders and the upper part of her back he could see was luminescent cream. The simple sleeveless dress she wore hung loose and shimmering to where it clung to what might be the finest ass he’d ever seen. And the legs…

  He leaned against the fireplace mantle and drank from his glass of scotch, wondering if it was too late to back out of the game and convince her, whoever she was, to go home with him. Forget taking the chance that he or she would draw the other’s keys at the end of the night. He hadn’t seen her face yet and he already knew those were the ankles he wanted hooked over his shoulders later.