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  Dirty Interludes

  Jodie Becker

  Book two in the Dirty Deeds series.

  What do a porn actor and a classical musician have in common? Nothing but garden gnomes.

  Bridget has a love-hate relationship with her neighbor. Max might be hotter than hell and a joy to look at, but he has the manners of a goat. Trying to keep her seat as principal cellist, Bridget has to be on top of her game. Being irritated and sleep-deprived won’t cut it. So when one of his late-night sexual escapades interferes with her sleep, she does what any sensible girl would do—throws a garden gnome through his bedroom window.

  Max didn’t expect to be drawn into a backyard battle with Frigid Bridget and he certainly didn’t expect to enjoy it so much. Locking horns with his delectable neighbor is fast becoming the highlight of his days and he longs to melt her frosty exterior. She might know how to make music with a cello, but he knows how to make music with her body. And he can’t wait to show her how.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Dirty Interludes

  ISBN 9781419938788

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Dirty Interludes Copyright © 2012 Jodie Becker

  Edited by Grace Bradley

  Cover design by Caitlin Fry

  Photos: Olly, Lisa Koltyrina/Shutterstock.com

  Electronic book publication May 2012

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  Dirty Interludes

  Jodie Becker

  Chapter One

  Thunk thunk thunk.

  Bridget dropped the pillow over her head in order to drown out the shrieking woman next door. One would think, with the amount of noise going on, a murder was taking place. But Bridget knew better.

  Thunk thunk thunk. The incessant thumping had now picked up pace and the woman’s voice rose an octave. If that was even possible. With a snarl Bridget flung her pillow at the wall, her heartbeat matching every punch of the headboard against the partition that joined her duplex to her neighbor’s.

  The digital clock clicked over another minute. It was 2:36 a.m. She had to be up in three hours and for the last hour she’d put up with their little games. Fury finally pushed her out of bed and she slipped her feet into her bunny slippers, wrapped a sheet around her shoulders and marched out of her duplex into the cold.

  The wind whipped at her hair as she grumbled out all the things she would do to her neighbor if she could get away with it. Dewy grass crunched underfoot as she crossed from her yard into his. She stomped up his steps and banged on the door. A smirk pulled at her lips. How would he like having his night “activity” disrupted?

  She knocked on the door until her knuckles hurt and her glee waned. Didn’t he hear her? A high-pitched wail assaulted her eardrums. Probably not. The screamer must be drowning her out. She stalked down the steps and glared at the window that most likely opened into his room. From where she stood she heard the muffled groans of a man and woman getting it on and it irked her that he was having the time of his life while she was sleep deprived and miserable.

  Anger soared higher and she hurried back to her lawn, snatched up a garden gnome and flung it as hard as she could at the window. Glass shattered and the screamer screamed, this time with fear. As one should.

  “What the hell?”

  Bridget couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of his indignation. Served him right. Thanking herself for a job well done she started back to her house to retrieve another garden ornament. Last time she’d thrown P. Diddy Gnomes, and she liked that one. This time she’d have to choose one she could do without. Finding a chipped little elf perched on a toadstool, she picked it up.

  “Hey!”

  She stiffened then turned at the sound of his voice. He stalked toward her dressed in nothing but boxer briefs. Her gaze snapped upward and focused on his enraged features. Not his athletic frame or the dragon tattoo on his chest.

  A sound of distress burst from her mouth and she dropped her garden statuette and ran for the safety of her house, sheet clutched in one hand. Bridget gasped as the sheet resisted her escape and she twisted around to find the corner of it clutched in his hand. She tugged and he tugged back, a grim smile on his face.

  “Let go!”

  A push and pull ensued, but she was no match for him as she slipped out of her sheet and fell onto the ground. Moisture immediately soaked through her silk nightdress and she popped back up, trying to ignore the chilly air that brushed against her backside.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

  Bridget folded her arms and stood her ground. Cow her, he would not. “Trying to sleep.”

  Black brows shot up. “By taking out my window? Lady, that’s willful damage of property.”

  “And you and that…that woman up there are disturbing the peace. It’s noise pollution.”

  He threw her a queer look, green eyes blazing with outrage. “Noise pollution? Lady, you have some nerve. What do you call playing that damn instrument of yours every waking moment?”

  “It’s music, not that cat warbling I’m putting up with. A big difference.”

  “Personally, that sounded like music to my ears. Nothing like a woman and her Os.” He eyed her shrewdly. “I bet you don’t even know what they are.”

  Bridget’s mouth popped open. “I’ve had plenty of orgasms. Plenty.”

  He chuckled. “Sure.”

  Why was she even defending herself? He was the one in the wrong.

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you. You woke me up.”

  “You could’ve knocked. That’s what smart people do.”

  Bridget barely muffled a screech of outrage. How in the world did she ever find this Neanderthal attractive? “What do you think I was doing for the last five minutes? If that woman would take a breath you would’ve heard me.”

  “So the solution here was to smash my window?”

  “Yes. It’s two thirty in the morning and most people are sleeping, not having screaming matches all night.”

  He leered. God how she hated when he did that. “Only one of us was screaming and she enjoyed every minute of it.”

  “Well I didn’t.”

  “Jealous, love?”

  She rolled her eyes. “As if. You can play your little games whenever you want as long as it’s not h
ere.”

  He glowered then and stepped forward, crowding her. “You don’t get the right to dictate to me. I bought this house and I can do what I damn well please.”

  “And I bought mine, so I’ll do as I please. I’ve had enough of your porn-star antics.”

  He chuckled. “Really? Have you even watched porn before?”

  “Oh please, what is there to see? Oh yes, mmm. Do me, big boy,” she said mockingly.

  A brow tipped up. “Even faking it you froze the tip of my dick.”

  Bridget gasped. “I’m not frigid.”

  “Whatever. You let me know when you find your orgasm. I could help you, but I’d be afraid I’d get frostbite for my efforts.”

  “For your information, not all women scream bloody murder while—while doing it. Are you sure you were pleasuring her or was she screaming for mercy?”

  “Care to find out?”

  He stepped closer and she moved back, hating the way her heart raced and her skin tingled. “I’d rather not. I’m going to bed and the next time you wake me up in the middle of the night, you’ll regret it.”

  With that she snatched at her sheet, twisted away and stalked back to her house. But as her hand landed on the doorknob, he spoke.

  “You’ll need more garden gnomes then.”

  Bridget blew out a breath and shut the door behind her. She stomped up the stairs, threw off her slippers, changed out of her soiled clothes and flung herself onto her bed. Heat seared her face and her heart thrummed in her ears. Tension tightened the muscles in her torso and everything about her felt ready to explode. She glared at the ceiling. If he wanted a war, then she would oblige him.

  Max glared at the door of his neighbor’s house. What the hell was her problem? Ever since he’d moved in she’d been nothing but a pain in his ass. Heaving a sigh, he stalked back into his house and hurried up the stairs. Sally sat on the bed, the moonlight reflecting off her luscious breasts. Cool wind whistled through his room and bit at his skin. Shit. Not only did she wreck his window, she cock-blocked him.

  “Who was that psycho?” Sally asked.

  Max shoved his legs into his track pants. “That…was my neighbor.”

  Sally hugged the sheet to her. “She could’ve killed us with that thing.”

  Max looked down at the gnome at the foot of his bed, its smiling face mocking him. He picked up the thing, checking its weight. A brow notched up. It wasn’t light and would’ve taken a fair bit of strength to hurl it through his window. Huh, who would’ve thought she had an arm like a quarterback. He propped the garden ornament on his tallboy and turned to Sally, her mussed blonde hair falling around her shoulders in a sensual display, but the mood was gone. His brush with frostbite had cooled his ardor.

  “I’m not comfortable staying here with that crazy woman next door.”

  Max sighed. “Want me to call you a cab?”

  Her kiss-swollen lips parted. “I thought you’d like to go back to my place and finish what we started.”

  “You finished a fair few times by my count.” But he didn’t. Not this time anyway. Damn it.

  Sally’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “So that’s it? You’re done for the night?”

  He shrugged. “You knew when we hooked up it wasn’t going to be anything more than a one-nighter.”

  She shifted off the bed, the sheet clutched to her.

  He chuckled. “What’s with the sheet? I’ve seen your body already.”

  She glared over her shoulder at him. “You are such an ass.”

  Max narrowed his eyes. What was it with women and their frigging emotions? He raked a hand through his dark hair and picked up her clothes. “I’ll call you a cab and leave you to get dressed then.”

  He trudged down to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Yellow light flicked on and a blast of ice-cold air hit him in the chest. Squinting, he grabbed a soda can and snapped the top. Propped against the counter he made the call, then watched the stairs. Several minutes later, Sally appeared, her heels in her hand, hair still mussed and looking exactly as she should. Like a woman who was well and truly fucked.

  “The cab should be here in five to ten minutes. Want a drink while you wait?”

  She huffed. “I’ll wait outside.”

  He shrugged and turned away. “Suit yourself.”

  The door slammed shut with a resounding bang and Max repressed a wince. Although Sally was a fun lay, her screaming did kinda grate on him. He huffed out a laugh. Guess Frigid Bridget had some right to her anger. But he’d be damned before he’d admit it to her. Knocking back another swallow, he retrieved a garbage bag and returned to his room and contemplated his plan of action.

  * * * * *

  Insomnia had its good points and bad. After the rude interruption he suffered by his neighbor his hope of exhausting himself to the point of oblivion failed. It was early afternoon and the surreal buzz in his head had started.

  A shiver ran through him as a draft hit skin. The large room was reminiscent of something from the Victorian era complete with faux fireplace. Max leaned back on the velvet lounge, the fabric soft against his naked ass. Cameras had long since stopped rolling and everyone had left, even Vanessa, the newest addition to Dungeon Films. Virgins to the industry were either a hit or miss. Some fell into it quite naturally while others cried in the bathroom afterward. Those types of girls were hard to maintain an erection for. That’s what Viagra was for anyway.

  Thankfully the new girl didn’t have a problem having sex before an audience and with strangers. She seemed eager enough to stay and play without the cameras rolling, but Max had his fill. He just wanted to sleep. He grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have given up the sleeping pills. The door to the studio room opened and Bryce stepped inside. His brown hair was slicked back from a fresh shower, blue eyes slightly glazed.

  Max snatched up the costume pants and buttoned the placket.

  “Vane said you were still here. He needs the room in a few hours.”

  Max rubbed the grit in his eyes. “You doing something?”

  Bryce grinned. “Yeah. A threesome.”

  Max nodded absently. He’d been there and done it.

  Bryce frowned. “You look a little peaked. Need something to take the edge off?”

  “No. Just tired.”

  “I got something that can fix that for you.”

  Max shook his head. The last time he took something Bryce offered, it gave him funky dreams. It wasn’t exactly restful. “I think I might go home and hit the gym. Work off this extra energy.”

  “You look like you’re going to pass out any minute. What energy?”

  “Just haven’t been able to sleep. I was hoping to get some the other night but my neighbor ruined it for me.”

  “Frigid Bridget?”

  “Yeah. Why did you tell me Sally was a sure thing, but not mention she was a screamer?”

  Bryce shrugged. “Dude, as long as you’re getting your dick wet, who cares?”

  “Well, apparently my neighbor.”

  “Tell me you didn’t take Sally home with you? How many times do I have to tell you, never shit in your own backyard? Didn’t you learn from Katrina?”

  Max grimaced. He didn’t even like to hear that woman’s name. Almost two years ago he’d met a luscious woman whom he’d immediately pursued. She was a bit quirky, but he dug that. He should’ve paid closer attention.

  “You suggested Sally to me. It’s not like she’ll follow my ass all over the place. In fact, I doubt she’d see me again after last night.”

  Bryce’s gaze narrowed. “What’d you do?”

  “Nothing. It’s what my neighbor did that ruined my night.”

  “What’d Frigid Bridget do? Call the cops?”

  “She threw a gnome through my window. Almost clocked me with it.”

  Bryce eyes widened, then he guffawed.

  “Yeah, I’m glad someone finds it amusing,” he grumbled.

  “Those things are hideous. Why not go over there and chuck
her lawn ornaments out? It’s kind of creepy rocking up at your house and seeing those things are watching you.”

  With the amount of drugs Bryce took, Max wouldn’t be surprised if he thought gnomes actually talked to him. Max narrowed his eyes on his friend. “You on something?”

  Bryce pinched his fingers together. “Just a tad.”

  Concern creased his brows. “Man, I think you should crank it back a bit. You’re at work for God’s sake.”

  Bryce winked. “Then don’t tell anyone, all right?”

  Shit. Bryce loved what he did at Dungeon, and so did Max, but the no-drug policy was going to be his downfall if he continued. “The moment Vane finds out he is going to fire your ass.”

  Bryce shrugged. “No he won’t, not after Dylan’s and Rube’s defection to suburban life.”

  Max’s mood turned somber at the thought of his friends’ abandonment. Dylan and Ruby had been in the business for a long time and they were good at what they did. Sure, he understood why Dylan left. He’d been discontent for a while and although it appeared kind of sudden to some, both Bryce and Max knew his reasons why. Ruby on the other hand was a surprise. Last he saw her, she was pregnant and refused to comment on the father. He thought maybe she’d come back after giving birth, but she never did. Still, he doubted Vane would let it slide that one of his employees got high before a shoot.

  “You never know, Bryce. Vane won’t care what your reasons are. If you fuck up, he’ll boot your ass.”

  Bryce scoffed. “Tell you a secret. This stuff helps me fuck longer and harder. Vane won’t care if I’m giving the best performance he has ever seen for the cameras.”

  “What’s in that cocktail? Viagra?”

  Bryce held a finger to his lips as though it were a well-kept secret. “Some. Who cares?”

  Concern tightened in his chest. Max stepped forward, his chin tipped downward. “Are you sure you’re all right, man?”

  Bryce recoiled. “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”