Tempting (Red Lips & White Lies Book 1)

Fourteen muscles are used when you pour a cup of coffee. Who needs to go to the gym when you’ve got a coffee addiction the size of mine?

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

Dr. Wren Davenport is one of the top ob-gyn’s on the East Coast. She’s the owner of the practice I work for, and she’s kinda sorta my aunt. Her full name is Dr. Wren Davenport-Kingston, and she’s married to Becket’s brother Sawyer. It’s sort of the same with Becket and Juliette’s son, Blaise. Technically he’s my cousin, but Easton and I treat him like a little brother. One who’s already taller than me.

The Kingston family is easily forty people deep these days, and we’re worse than that old drinking game, Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. Between us and Nixon and the twins’ family, there’s bound to be a connection to most people in Kroydon Hills.

When she and I spoke last winter, she mentioned she’d like to open up a second office in Kroydon Hills as a satellite office for the Philadelphia office. When she offered me the job, I jumped, like Simone Biles high. Not only was I being offered a dream job, but it was close to home. I mean, I could walk to work if I wanted to. I don’t—because seriously . . . the heels. But if it wasn’t for my shoe addiction.

I glance down at today’s red patent-leather stilettos with the matching red soles. When your surrogate mom, slash cousin, is a former supermodel, she makes sure to keep you in nice shoes. It’s our thing. I run my palms over my black dress and slide on my white coat like it’s a superhero’s cape, ready to take on the day when Wren knocks on my office door. “Good morning, Kenzie.”

“Hey. I didn’t think you were coming back until tomorrow.”

“We wanted to be back before the weekend.” She smiles warmly and adjusts my stethoscope. “How was the event?”

I narrow my eyes, already on to her. She’s a Kingston. They’re all nosey.

“Max ratted me out, didn’t he?” Shockingly, he and his wife were the only family there.

Wren purses her lips but gives in to a laugh before long. “No. I actually heard it from a nurse this morning during rounds. When were you going to tell me you’re dating Nixon Sinclair?”

“Maybe when I am dating Nixon Sinclair. We’re friends, Wren. I just didn’t feel like going alone, and his mom was one of the chairs of the event. Sorry to disappoint.” I grab my empty mug from my desk and walk past her into the kitchen, well aware she’s following me.

I pour myself my second cup of coffee this morning, then grab a paper cup and pour my coffee-addict aunt a cup as well and hold it out for her.

“When, huh?” She takes a sip and smiles deviously.

“What?” I ask, ready to go meet with my first patient.

“You said when, not if. There’s a difference, brainiac,” she teases and steps aside when I try to pass her. “You know you’re done with your residency now. You don’t have to work eighty-hour weeks anymore, Kenzie. You can have a life. In fact, I’d give it a try. It’s fun.”

I guess I did say when. But I meant if.

Totally meant if.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the Philly office today?” I snap, trying to change the topic. When she sips again instead of answering, I shake my head. “I’ve got a patient to see.”

“You can run, but you can’t hide, Kenzie. And if you think I’m bad, just wait until Juliette gets hold of you.”

Well, that stops me in the middle of the bustling office. Without looking, I know all the color drains from my face. “You told Jules?”

She smiles. “Oh, honey . . . I called Sawyer, who I’m betting called Becket. And you know Becks wasn’t keeping that to himself. Consider yourself lucky that you’ve been warned.”

Lucky? . . . Screwed is more like it.

Juliette

We’re flying back from DC tonight. Want to meet for coffee tomorrow?

Kenzie

Three whole hours, huh? Should I be proud?

Juliette

Maybe. But I’d settle for being grateful this text is coming from me and not Becket.

Kenzie

Really? **Insert rolling eyes emoji**

Juliette

Coffee at Sweet Temptations tomorrow, Kenz. Does ten a.m. work, or do you need it to be earlier?

Kenzie

My first patient is at nine. I can do eight.

Juliette

See you at eight a.m. Love you.

Kenzie

Love you too, Jules. Kiss Blaise for me.

Easton

Just got a message from Becks. They want to do dinner this weekend. I told him I’d check with you. Does Saturday or Sunday work better for you?

Kenzie

Funny. I just got a message from Jules. She didn’t mention anything about dinner. She wants to do coffee tomorrow morning.

Easton

What are they up to?

Kenzie

They’re fishing for information that isn’t there. Saturday works for me. Thanks.

Easton

You sure there’s no info?

Kenzie

Et tu, Brute?

Easton

Say the word and I’ll kick his ass, sis.

Kenzie

I’m ignoring you. Have a good game tonight. I’m on my way to your house. I’m having dinner with your wife.

Easton

We’re actually flying home in a few minutes. It was an afternoon game.

Kenzie

Have a safe flight, E. Love you.

Easton

Love you too.

Losing my mother early taught me many things, the most important of which is don’t take a single day for granted. Followed closely by make sure the people you love know you love them. Easton, Blaise, Jules, Becks, and I tell each other that often. Some might think too often, but Juliette and Becket made sure we never had any doubt, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful.

They made it look so easy back then.

The way they loved each other.

The way they loved us.

That’s the thought I have rattling around my mind when I knock on Lindy’s front door before letting myself in. My nephew, Griffin, runs to me on his long lanky legs. “Aunt Kenzie’s here!”

I scoop up the four-year-old and act like I’m going to drop him. “You’ve got to stop growing so fast, Griff. You’re getting too big. What are you, ten years old now?”

He shakes his shaggy brown hair back and forth. “I’m not ten, Aunt Kenzie. I’m four years old.”

“Four . . . What? I could have sworn you were in fourth grade. Not that you were four years old.” I tickle his sides as I carry him into the kitchen to find Lindy cutting chicken into tiny pieces while she wears my niece, Elizabeth, in one of those wraparound things that snuggles the tiny baby close to her. Little Miss Lizzy doesn’t like to be put down.

“Mom . . . Aunt Kenzie’s here,” Griff calls out as if we aren’t standing right across from her.

“I see, big boy. How about you get down and go wash up for dinner, please?” she asks him sweetly, and I hide my laugh.

“Hey, Lindy. Did you know that Griffin is only four years old, not in fourth grade?” I ask dramatically as I settle the little monkey on his feet.

“I’m a big boy. My class is all day this year,” he tells me excitedly. “Did you know next year, I’m going to be in kindergarten, but Lizzy won’t even be in preschool yet?” He hops up on the stool in front of the deep farmhouse sink in the kitchen while I move over to Lindy and press my lips to the top of Lizzy’s head.

“You can take her if you want. This is the witching hour. She insists on being held. If not, the whole damn street can hear her screaming.” I carefully take my tiny niece out of the soft carrier and watch the way her blue eyes pop open and widen when they try to focus on me.

“Hey, sweet girl,” I croon to my mother’s namesake. She’s the perfect little mix of Lindy and Easton, and I can’t wait to watch her grow. “Need any help?”

Lindy pours us each a glass of wine and pushes one my way. “Nope. Dinner is ready, the wine is delicious, and your brother won’t be back for hours. Now take a seat and fill me in on what’s happening in your life. I feel like I talk to you even less now that you’re home.”

She buckles Griffin into his booster seat and looks lovingly at Lizzy. “Do you want me to take her back?”

“I’ve got her. You eat.” I sit down next to Griffin and snuggle Lizzy a little tighter, breathing in her sweet baby scent. “Well, let’s see. I talked to Wren today, who apparently heard I was dating Nixon.”

Lindy’s mouth pops open. “Did you tell her you’re not?”

“I did, but not before she told Sawyer, who told Becket, who told freaking Juliette,” I moan. “Seriously, the Kingston family phone chain is off the damn rails, Linds. I’m surprised you didn’t get a text already.”

She smiles sheepishly, and I swear if I wasn’t holding Lizzy, I’d probably scream. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Wish I could. Mom texted me earlier, asking if it was true.” She runs her hand over Griff’s mop of hair.

“What did you tell her?” I screech softly. Didn’t know that was possible, but apparently it is.

“That you went as friends, but you didn’t look like friends on that dance floor.” Her big, blue eyes grow wide with excitement. “So tell me the truth. Is there something maybe, sort of going on with you two? Because the way that man looked at you . . . it was hot.”

“You’re reaching,” I tell her as I push a piece of chicken around on my plate.

“I’m not, Kenz. Trust me. I’m pretty sure he’s always had a thing for you.”

“What kind of thing, Mommy?” Griff asks, and Lindy and I both smile at her beautiful boy.

“The kind of thing that makes boys smile at girls, sweetheart. The way Daddy smiles at Mommy.” Talk about always watching someone. My brother has only had eyes for Lindy since he was barely twenty years old. Some things are just written in the stars. But that’s not what everyone gets.

“He doesn’t have a thing for me . . . Why would you even say that?” I ask, even though I’m sure she’s crazy. Right?

“Kenzie, do you really not see it? You’re smart and kind and beautiful. And Nixon Sinclair has seen that for years. I’m telling you, he has. Ask him if you don’t believe me.” She sips her wine, then rests her elbows on the table. “You and your brother are so blind.”

“What do you mean?” Lizzy fusses in my arms until I adjust her again, then try to act like I’m not dying to know what Lindy means.

“Just keep yourself open to everything, Kenz. Don’t shut down before you even give yourself a chance.”

“You’re not making any sense,” I murmur, trying to string together what the heck ever she’s talking about. “I know Nixon Sinclair is attracted to me. He’s shown me that. But there’s a difference between being attracted to someone and actually being interested in someone.”

“I agree. There’s a difference. But let me ask you this . . . are you interested in Nixon?”

Well, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?

“I’m attracted to him,” I admit and leave off that I got myself off to the sound of his voice the other night, then to the memory of that every night since. And maybe this morning too.

What can I say?

Having a healthy sexual appetite was never my problem.

Finding someone worth the time was the issue.

Is Nixon worth the time?

I’m sure he is.

But that’s not part of our arrangement.

Lindy runs the tip of her finger along the edge of her glass. “So you’re just attracted to him? You couldn’t see yourself dating him?”

“I didn’t say that,” I admit softly as Lizzy starts to squirm on my shoulder.

“No, you didn’t.” Lindy stands and stretches her arms. “Give me the baby. She needs to be changed. And you need to decide what exactly you’re saying. Take it from a woman who waited too long to go after what she wanted. Don’t waste time on what-ifs. Life is too short.”

Lindy takes Lizzy into the other room to change her diaper, and Griffin looks at me with mac and cheese stuck to his lips. “I’m not going to be short like life, Aunt Kenzie. I’m going to be as tall like Daddy.”

“Yeah, big guy.” I drop a kiss on his head. “You’re going to be big and tall and have a really big life.”

He beams up at me like I just made his day. Meanwhile, his mommy just threw a glitter bomb into the middle of mine.

Do I want Nixon Sinclair?

Yes.

Do I want a life with Nixon?

I haven’t thought about sharing my life with anyone in years . . .

And I’m not sure I’m ready to do that now.

But if I were, Nix sure is one hell of a guy to count out.