Richard Savage's Blog: The Anniversary, page 8

Edgeplay (Goode Pain Book 1)

Edgeplay (Goode Pain Book 1)
https://amzn.to/2LuEEd5
Annabel Allan

Chapter One

I bit my lip, my icy blue eyes watching the clock as I shifted in my seat at my desk.
It would only be another five minutes and I would be free—another night in my own little world. Just the thought of it made my nipples harden, and I clamped my legs together to try and calm my aching thighs. It wouldn’t be just another night, not for me. And Thursdays were always my favorite.

Another three minutes, I thought.
My breasts started to heave beneath my shimmery pale blouse, which I had modestly undone. It didn’t stop the men in the office from looking over my body; a pleasing hourglass shape. Those men didn’t concern me. What would they say if they really knew me?
I licked my full lips, holding onto my pen tightly. Only another minute. I swallowed hard, my heart speeding up, almost too much to bear. I knew I could look forward to another good night. I could feel it.
The second the clock hit five, I jumped out of my seat, quickly gathering my things. I tried not to look too frazzled, or too eager to leave. Truthfully, I did like my job … most days. I just didn’t want any questions asked.
I pulled on my black blazer, which matched my pencil skirt, before taking my purse from the drawer and heading to the elevator. I pushed the button quickly, a little zing of electricity zipping through me, my fingertips tingly just at the thought of leaving the building.
“Hey, Ava.”
I turned to my name. “Hey Zander,” I said, recognizing my co-worker who sat a cubicle over from me.
I had to admit, he was a handsome guy; not too tall, but extremely well built. He had a thin, square-shaped face, his blue-green eyes deep-set, his hair a little fine and blond … but he was never on my radar. I had other things on my mind …
“You headin’ with everyone else tonight to the pub?” he asked.
I tried to smile, shaking my head as I casually pushed the button for the elevator a few more times. “No, I don’t really drink.”
“Oh, you don’t need to drink,” he said with a perfect smile. “It’d be nice to see your pretty face outside of work.”
I shook my head again. “I have plans.”
“Oh…boyfriend?” he asked.
“No,” I said as the elevator opened, finding the notion a little funny. “Just…plans.”
We both got onto the elevator with a few other people, the doors closing behind us.
“Wish I could get you to change those plans,” Zander said to me in a husky voice. His shoulder met my own, and he gazed at me hungrily; a look I knew all too well. But, again, he wasn’t on my radar.
“I’ve had these plans for a while, I don’t want to cancel,” I said, looking straight ahead. In all reality, Zander was nice, but he didn’t have the extra special quality I was always on the lookout for; truth be told, not many guys at all had that quality.
“I see,” he said, taking the hint and going quiet.
We rode in silence until the car came smoothly to a stop and the doors whooshed open. I stepped out first, my purse slung over my shoulder and sitting on my hip as I walked across the lobby with a confident strut. No one else bothered me as I made my way out to my car, parked in the underground across the street.
I walked up to my little silver Mazda, unlocked it with the fob and got inside. I looked up, checking my shoulder-length white blonde hair in the rearview. I adjusted a strand before I glanced over the rest of my features—my small nose, perfect lips, big eyes. My makeup was still in perfect order, as I expected, so I started the car and backed out of the space.
I made my way, twisting through downtown Toronto until I came to the Entertainment District. I found the little building easily and parked down the street. I took off my blazer, tossing it in the backseat. Being late May, the weather was decent, with a touch of humidity on the air. Besides, I wouldn’t need the blazer.
I grabbed my purse and got out of the car, locking it behind me. The building stretched up before me, the sidewalk quiet. I punched in the code. The anticipation slowly ate away at my insides, making my heart shake from nervous shudders.
The door unlocked, and I pushed it open to a little foyer and a steep staircase leading to the second floor. I ascended them carefully in my heels, made my way to the first door down a long hallway and pulled out my keys.
I took a deep breath, pushing my shoulders back and holding my head high as I unlocked the door. I took another little moment as a small smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. I finally pushed the door open and walked inside.
I turned, tossing the keys and my purse down on the little accent table to my right as I closed the door behind me. I locked the door, a sly smile crossing my mouth as I turned around.
The single flat spread out widely, the walls painted white, the ceiling smooth with a crystal chandelier dripping down from the center. My eyes fell upon the St. Andrew’s Cross sitting on the wall. The steps beside it led up into the bathroom, the kitchen off from that in the back of the unit. The sturdy metal four poster bed fell under my gaze next, the windows behind it giving a view of the street. Thankfully, only a gas station sat across from the building. There was no fear of anyone seeing inside my private world of Domination and submission.
I smiled again and walked over to the cage, inside which was a man on all fours, wearing a ball gag, studded collar, and nothing else…save for his chastity device—a see-through cage trapping his cock inside.
“Oh, my poor little puppy,” I said with a mock pout. “You’ve been all locked up. I think it’s time we do a little playtime.”
He simply bowed his head, which delighted me, and another wicked smile spread across my lips. I stepped forward and unlocked the cage, letting him out. He crawled out on all fours. He didn’t dare stand up, nor was it a thought in his head. He simply crawled over to me and put his cheek down on my foot, nuzzling into it. This, of course, pleased me, but I had to remember my place as well as his.
“Well, my little puppy,” I said as I turned towards the room. His cheek ripped away from my foot. I honestly didn’t care. “You know my fucked-up mind has been thinking of all sorts of ways to make you suffer since our last session. I wasn’t impressed when you called me without permission and asked if you could jerk off. Naughty, naughty.”
He didn’t say anything, obviously unable to because of the ball gag.
“But, on the other hand, you asked and were denied then…so maybe I should take it easy on you,” I continued, looking out the window, speaking as if he wasn’t even there. “Then again, what fun is that?”
I turned again, walking to the wall and opening a long cupboard. A variety of toys were inside. I pulled out a pair of nipple clamps and walked back over to him.
“Stand,” I ordered.
He did as I said, quickly standing to his feet. A tall man, probably about six foot, his abs and chest were chiseled and waxed perfectly. The hair on his head, cut short and kept off his face, had a salt and peppery look, even though he was only in his thirties. His green eyes met with mine, his knees red from romping around on the floor.
“I think we should adjust these a little tighter than usual,” I said, turning the little screw on the clamps. My eyes met with his again. “You remember the safe word?”
He nodded once, but the fire in his eyes told me he did not plan on using it, no matter what I did to him. Such a good little puppy!
“Good,” I said, a thrill going through me to my toes.
I put the clamps on him. His face winced slightly before he took a deep breath, stood up nice and tall and pushed his chest out to me. I examined him, stopping at his cock, which was, of course, still locked in chastity…after a week, he was surprisingly composed. He had a copy of the key, but I knew he wouldn’t dare take it off. He was a good puppy—most days.
“I think first we’ll take this off,” I said, stroking the plastic enclosure. “I think we need to examine you a little further.”
I walked over to my purse and took out the little key. I brought it over, holding it out in front of him, dangling it like a bone. I couldn’t help the wicked smile that overtook me. His little puppy eyes plead with me, so I snatched it back, then finally undid the chastity and took it off.
I simply stood back and watched as his cock grew, no longer strangled by the device. I tapped my finger on my cheek, waiting for his cock to be fully erect. I then smirked, walking over to him and stroking his cock slowly.
“So, my little puppy,” I began as he shuddered under my touch. “Where to start? Ah, yes! You will turn, present yourself. I want to check your ass.”
I let go of his cock as he turned and walked over to the bed, resting his palms down on it and pushing his ass out to me. I walked after him, then stroked his back and down his butt cheek before delivering a hard slap. It echoed throughout the room, making my palm vibrate and feel a tinge of pain; his whimper followed.
I let out a little giggle as I smoothed my hand over the large red handprint on his skin, ran my hand down to his balls and caressed them. I then placed my other hand on him, spreading his cheeks and looking over his perfectly clean and waxed asshole—exactly how I demanded it to be.
I did my examination, pouting my lips. “Perfect. I think we’ll be playing a little bit with Mister Softie. Would you like that, my little puppy?”
He nodded his head once, though I knew he hated the use of the pink dildo. I let go of him and delivered another hard slap, this time on the other cheek. Another thrill went through me as I shook my head.
“Lies do not become you, my darling puppy,” I said.
He hung his head low, not making any reply…not that he could.
“Stand,” I demanded.
He turned quickly and stood before me. I undid the ball gag from the back of his head, took it off and tossed it on the bedside table.
“Worship my feet,” I said, looking away from him.
He got down on his knees, bending and kissing my foot delicately. He planted many kisses on them, making me smile before my eyes widened with an idea.
“I think you should ride the machine,” I said excitedly. He hated the machine, but only because he would not be allowed to come. Of course, that just meant he really loved it, loved every minute.
I pulled out the machine—a padded bench to be straddled, with an attachment of your choice hooked up to it for penetration, or just for clitoral vibration. I grabbed one of the phallic attachments, a small one meant for the prostate. My puppy didn’t have a clitoris, but he did have a glorious asshole!
I ordered him to set everything up, while I grabbed some shackles from the cupboard. I was getting tired of doing it myself, and really, what else was my puppy for? He placed a condom over the phallic attachment, then stopped and turned to me, putting his hands behind his back.
I was delighted, as he knew I planned on binding his hands! I quickly shackled them behind him. I then grabbed the chain for his nipple clamps, tugging on them and causing him to hiss.
“Sit,” I said, pointing with my other hand.
He swallowed hard, straddling the machine and lowering himself onto it. I tilted my head, watching as the attachment had a little trouble entering his puckered entrance, but it finally slipped in, causing him to moan, his whole body jittery as he looked up to me.
I sauntered up to him and bent down to turn on the machine. The vibrations hummed throughout the loft as his legs shook on either side of it. He let out another moan. It only took a few moments for it to work on his prostate before he looked up to me again—the anguish, the pain, the desire, so obvious in his little puppy eyes.
I watched him, tilting my head to the side again, looking to his hungry cock. I wanted him to suffer because I knew while suffering he was really enjoying every minute, which I enjoyed in return. We fed off of each other. It was like my drug.
“Hmm,” I said. I took hold of his swollen cock, purplish around the head, quite stiff in my gentle grip. He obviously hadn’t touched himself, and I had made him wait nearly a week, teasing him yet making him abstain. “You have been a good boy. Haven’t you?”
He nodded, moaning. He held on, even as I slowly caressed his hard cock, up and down, teasing the tip.
“Well, I guess you can come…but not quite yet,” I said with a sadistic smile.
I turned the machine down low and then off, which caused him to jolt a little. Precum gathered at the tip of his cock. I loved it! He was close.
I turned on my heel, walking over to the bed and standing before it. I pointed to my feet. “Come here. Now.”
He used everything in him to stand, unassisted, from the machine. Leg day had obviously paid off. The phallic piece came out of his ass easily, making him grunt from the sensation. He walked timidly up to me and got down on his knees before me, his hands still bound behind him.
“Oh, we are a good boy today, aren’t we, my darling puppy?” I asked as I patted his head. I then caressed his face down to his chin and pulled it up to me. “Now, I think you will use that puppy tongue of yours.”
I hiked up my skirt, pulling my panties off and dropping them to the floor, before taking off the shackles binding his wrists. His eyes lit up, as he was one of those who enjoyed cunnilingus. He loved it, and he was pretty damn good at it. After the day I had had, I needed it.
I got on the bed, seductively turning to him and spreading my legs for him. I pointed to the spot between my legs. “Come here.”
He quickly got up off the floor and onto the bed, looking down to my bare sex with delight. He knew not to touch, not yet. I gave him a little smile, rubbing my sex a little, feeling the wetness and spreading it around, tickling at my clit.
“Do you like what you see, my darling puppy?” I asked.
He nodded vigorously.
“Good. Kiss it,” I said, pulling my hand away. “But gently.”
He leaned down to me, his lips and breath so close to my skin before he sweetly planted a kiss on my swollen lips. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the pulsing within me; the ache had been present all day! Truth be told, I’d denied myself since our last play session a week before. I needed it, badly.
“Now, lick it, like a good puppy,” I said, my breathing picking up in anticipation.
He looked down to my sex, lowering his head once again and licking from my taint right up to my clit. I shuddered, my toes curling from the wicked sensation.
“Use that tongue on me,” I demanded. “Make me come and then maybe I’ll let you come.”
The light went on in his eyes as he lowered to me once again, giving long slow licks, just how I liked it. One…two…three. My legs started to shake as I let out a little moan. He circled his tongue around my clit several times before lapping at it, just like a good puppy.
I gasped as an orgasmic pulse ran through me, my hand suddenly going to the back of his head and pulling him into me. He didn’t stop, even with his face buried in me; he kept licking like his life depended on it. If anything, his pace sped up. I moaned loudly as the pleasure mounted, my legs buckling as I tried to keep them in check.
I felt an orgasmic shock shoot through me as he put his fingers inside me. He turned them up, massaging my G-spot, which only made the pleasure heighten.
“Shit,” I managed, pushing my hips up.
It all came rushing over me like a tidal wave. It mounted, sucking everything out of me, pulling away from the shore and roaring up before it exploded, coming crashing down on me. I tried to contain it, but it overflowed, bathing me in the euphoria. I couldn’t help but drown in it.
Of course, he didn’t stop, letting me bask in the glow until I finished. I put my hand at his forehead, pushing his head away. “Enough!”
He pulled away, panting, my juices covering his mouth and chin. He didn’t dare wipe them away—again, like a good puppy. Except, he wasn’t so good.
I sighed, taking a few more moments to enjoy myself before rolling over and getting up off the bed. I pulled down my skirt; his face was expectant, his cock bobbing, no doubt painfully, and his desire obvious. Some guys go soft while going down on a woman…but, nope, not my puppy.
I crossed my arms. “What? You expect to come when you used your hands without my permission?”
He blinked a few times, not only realizing his faux pas, but also that wasn’t going to get the orgasm he so badly needed. The light of excitement drained from his eyes. He definitely looked like a slapped puppy.
“You expect me to reward you for bad behavior? What kind of Mistress would I be?” I asked, grabbing the chain on his clamps and yanking it down. “I think we need a visit with the paddle.”
He kept eye contact, not wavering. His confidence only thrilled me more, as I knew he hated the paddle and how rough I could be with it.
“Present yourself,” I demanded.
He swallowed hard, putting his hands on the bed, bending over and presenting his bare ass to me. I smiled as I walked over to the wall and grabbed the circular leather paddle. It was my favorite to use, especially on my puppy.
I walked over slowly, each step resonating in the loft. I pouted my lips a little bit as I looked over his ass, still red from spanking him barehanded. I then swung the paddle, hitting his ass and making him grunt in pain.
“How many for your insolence? You bad puppy,” I said, swinging the paddle again and hitting his right ass cheek, hard.
He grunted again, taking each hit. Three, four, five. I stopped at ten, walking over and grabbing a flogger before strutting back over to him and letting out a series of whips. I didn’t hold back, enjoying the weight of the flogger in my hand, as well as his grunts and moans as it connected with his skin.
Once his ass was good and red—he obviously wouldn’t be sitting comfortably afterwards—I tossed the flogger down on the bed beside him. He panted heavily, but kept his head bowed.
“Hmm,” I said as I thought. “I’m thinking we need to lock you back into chastity for the next week, until our next session. Maybe that will give you a little incentive to do as you’re told.”
I could see by the way he tensed he wasn’t pleased with that notion.
“But…we still have a few hours, so I could change my mind,” I said.
I then smiled slyly. Yes. We had nearly the rest of the whole two hours he had arranged. Plenty of time for my darling puppy to make it up to me and show me he was a good boy.


Chapter Two

My name is Ava Goode and I’m a Dominatrix.
Of course, you wouldn’t really know it by looking at me, since my day job is as an insurance agent. Suits are my usual. But, yes, I’m paid to Dominate both men and women. I’ve always identified as bisexual, knowing I like women as much as men, though I’ve never had a relationship with a woman. I guess I’ve always been too scared to take the leap. But, just sex? Yes, I can do that.
Not every Dominatrix is paid for their services. I went for the pro-Domme field because I figured if I was going to do it, I might as well. And, hell, I’m good at it. Again, why not?
I can usually tell if someone is submissive by nature. It’s a feeling I get. Then again, sometimes I get muddled by personal attraction. I just hope and wish the person is submissive. Sometimes I’m wrong. Sometimes I’m right.
***
I sighed as I surveyed the ballroom, filled with my father’s employees as well as business partners and business prospects. I sipped at my champagne, alone in my corner.
I honestly didn’t know why he invited me to such parties. I wasn’t really expected to mingle, but my stepmother was also there, and, not to be outdone, I had to wear the sexiest dress I owned. My father wouldn’t be impressed with how it hugged my figure, clinging to my curves. It was a sexy black number with the back cut out and the front diving deep, almost to my belly button. I didn’t care. My stepmother was not going to win prettiest or sexiest at the gala.
My father is my only family. An only child, I lost my mother when I was seven to cancer. Truth be told, my present stepmother isn’t the first. My father was married two times prior to her, and each woman got younger. In fact, the present one is only two years older than me. That was the last straw for me.
When I was eighteen, I changed my last name to my mother’s maiden name of Goode. It hurt my father’s feelings, and that’s exactly why I did it. At least I still called him Dad and not by his first name. It could be worse, I figured.
I was bored, standing in my little corner. I scanned the room once more, stopping on a man speaking to an older woman, older than myself. I was only twenty-eight, coming up on thirty, but still considered young. This woman in red was most likely in her fifties.
Just the sight of him made me crazy, a warm rush overcoming me and a pulse surprising me from my sex. He was incredibly sexy—tall, muscular, the rugged manly type. It seemed odd for him to be wearing a suit—he could have been a bodybuilder or a lumberjack. He had long brown hair that curled behind his ears, a beard on his chin. Again, rugged, manly, beyond sexy.
Then he let loose that incredible smile and I finally knew where I had seen him before; it was Gabriel Burton, my father’s new CEO, transferred from out in Vancouver. My heart fell. It was a serious no-no to date or socialize with my father’s employees. He would have a shit fit, and that was an understatement.
I thought about it, weighing my options. I could introduce myself and flirt, or I could stay in my corner. But, to be honest, the swirl of desire in me was eating away at my insides, the little devil on my shoulder whispering that talking to him couldn’t hurt. In all honesty, I wanted to know him; I wanted to know if he was submissive.
I quickly scanned for my father, finding him speaking to another group of people. He was busy, so what would it hurt to go over and introduce myself? Gabriel Burton, the new boy in town. He could probably use a little company, someone more his own age, a contemporary. Or, at least, that’s what the devil on my shoulder said…and I was convinced.
I licked my lips and headed over to him. I approached, giving my best smile, a confident smile, because I was confident.
“Hello,” I said.
He turned; his brilliant brown eyes, the color of chocolate, stared into me, surprising me. They were deep, beautiful, stunning. I was also hit with his cologne, which, again, was manly. It was what I expected, what most men wore, too, but it nearly floored me.
“Well, hello,” he said, his eyes quickly looking me over, taking in the dress.
The woman in red, who happened to also be blonde, sighed as she saw she’d lost to the younger, prettier woman. She turned and walked away, leaving us to our conversation.
“It seems I’ve saved you from an awkward encounter,” I said, glancing to the older woman, who was now at another young businessman’s side.
“Yes, I should thank you,” he replied with a frown as he looked to the other woman.
“No need,” I said, “I’m really over here to cause trouble anyways.”
“You aren’t busy with your boyfriend or husband?” he asked.
I burst out laughing, shaking my head. “No, no boyfriend, and certainly no husband.”
“Not the marrying type?” he asked.
“Not really the relationship type,” I replied, eyeing him hungrily.
I had let my puppy eat me out twice more on Thursday evening, but I actually hadn’t had sex in almost a year. A lot of people think BDSM is all about sex, but even with my puppy, he didn’t really expect actual intercourse. He expected me to Dominate him, and of course, there was a sexual aspect with him, in denying him his orgasm and such. He wanted to be my puppy and all it entailed. Of course, he didn’t pay me for the pleasure. I had met him at a BDSM club and he worked his way up to being allowed to be my puppy.
It was also true that as well as not having had sex in almost a year, it had been nearly eight years since I had had a relationship. It didn’t interest me.
“Oh,” he said, nodding as he glanced to his champagne, his eyes constantly coming back to me. “And what type are you?”
“The casual type,” I said with a little shrug, the heat from his body sinking into me, making me feel drunk almost. I tried to clear my mind, even as I stared into those brilliant brown eyes.
“Casual is good,” he said, faintly smiling, obviously enjoying looking at me.
“I guess I should let you in on a little secret,” I said, leaning into him seductively.
“Oh? What’s that?” he asked, doing the same, playing along.
“I’m breaking the rules,” I said with a little sly smile.
His brow furrowed. “What rules?”
“I’m Ava Goode,” I said, putting out my hand to shake his.
His eyes widened a little bit, his brow high on his head, before he cleared his throat and nodded. “I should have recognized you from your picture in your father’s office.”
I winced a little. “Let me guess, my high school graduation photo? My hair is a mass of golden blonde curls?”
He let loose a sexy smile. “Yep, that’s the one.”
“How embarrassing,” I said, as I covered my face a little with my hand. “I’ve asked him a hundred times to get rid of that thing.”
“It’s cute,” he said, looking me up and down. “I’d say he keeps it as a reminder to his staff that they should see you as his daughter, a little girl, rather than a beautiful young woman standing before me.”
I felt my cheeks flush warmly, as I looked to him from under my long lashes, that little smile spreading across my lips. “I believe you’re flirting with me, Mister Burton.”
“I believe you are also guilty of it, Miss Goode,” he said, his eyes ablaze with the hunger I knew all too well. But…something was different. It sent a thrill through me, one I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Oh no, let’s not go there, I thought to myself.
“Ava?” a familiar voice called.
I turned to see my father approaching. I sighed, looking away, beyond annoyed. He wasn’t pleased either. But he usually wasn’t pleased with me, so no big there.
“What?” I asked. My father was a stocky bald man whose demeaning presence sank into my skin, making me want to run. I didn’t want to be yelled at, but, at the same time, I knew I had to stand my ground.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking to Gabriel.
I licked my teeth in anger. “I was talking with Mister Burton. We hadn’t met formally, and I thought it the perfect occasion.”
“While you look like that,” he said bluntly, pointing to my dress.
“You don’t like it?” I asked, doing a sultry turn, looking from under my lashes to Gabriel, who widened his eyes in shock.
“That is enough!” my father said, grabbing hold of me and pulling me back to my secluded corner. “I asked you to come here to support your father, not flirt like some…some whore!”
“Don’t you ever call me a whore,” I said seriously, looking him in the eye, not backing down.
“I never said you were, I said you were flirting like one,” he said, his hands on his hips. “He’s a man I work with, Ava.”
“And I should care, why?” I asked. “I was talking to him, not fucking him in front of everyone.”
“I don’t like that language,” he said, his blue eyes swirling with rage.
I sighed angrily. “I can speak to whomever I want. I wanted to meet your newest team member, so I did. Since you were so rude the last time I was at the office and wouldn’t even introduce us.”
“I have my reasons,” he said, “especially since I saw the way you looked at him. The way every woman has looked at him since he arrived.”
I caught a glimpse of Gabriel, who was talking with another man. I hated my father for snatching me away from him, especially when the conversation was going so well. Had I planned on taking him home? I didn’t know. I did know I couldn’t take him to my dungeon…though everything in me wanted to. I couldn’t really get a sense of him. I wanted him to be submissive, but, I will admit, my own lust was clouding my judgment.
The thought of him on his knees before me, calling me Mistress, kissing my feet…it was enough to set my thighs on fire, start a deep need yanking in my stomach, and make my sex ache with desire. But not many men were open to being submissive.
“I told you I didn’t want you flirting with my staff,” my father said, cutting into my thoughts.
“I’m allowed to have a conversation with someone,” I said, getting angry. I was really getting angry now, especially since he had dispelled all the desire in me.
“Not with him,” my father said, raising his finger to me. “I mean it, Ava. You are to stay away from him.”
“Do you want me to leave? It seems like it,” I said, knowing he wanted me there that night. Threatening to leave seemed like the best thing I had in my arsenal.
“No, of course not,” he said, quickly backtracking. “I want you to understand, Ava. I can’t have my staff and my family getting too comfortable with each other, especially in a romantic capacity. What would happen if you two were to break up? Would I be expected to fire one of the best CEOs the company has ever seen?”
“You act like we’re dating. I was just talking to him!” I yelled. Thankfully, the tinkling music from the piano in the room drowned me out. I didn’t want to make a scene in front of all these people, but, hell, I would do it if I had to. I needed to get my point across. “I’m not a little girl, I can do as I please and see who I please and talk to who I please.”
“Not Gabriel Burton,” he warned, his eyes dark with a don’t-hassle-me, end-of-subject glare.
“Fine,” I said. “Are we done?”
He nodded, standing up straighter. “Yes. I think you get my point.”
“I did five minutes ago when you dragged me over here, rudely, I might add,” I said, taking my glass of champagne and downing its contents. “I’m going to leave.”
“Ava, honey, don’t,” he said, grabbing my arm as I started to turn.
“Why should I bother?” I asked, shrugging.
“Because I asked you to be here and you gave me your word,” he said.
“I’m still fuzzy on why you wanted me to be here so badly,” I said. I pointed to Gabriel, who was now watching us. “After all, I’m expected not to talk to any of your staff.”
“I don’t want to mix business and pleasure,” he said, lowering his voice. “I have a big deal coming to fruition; I need Gabriel Burton for it.”
“Noted,” I said, still unimpressed. It was moments like right then that I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to tell him I was a Domme and I had my own dungeon and clients, and BDSM was my life. Sadly, I’d never had the guts to “come out” to my father about it. He would never understand. No one ever did.
“Will you stay?” he asked.
I nodded reluctantly. “Fine.”
“Good,” he said with a little smile. He then kissed my cheek, which I allowed, though again, reluctantly. He turned and walked off, back into the crowd.
I stood, stewing. Again, I thought of telling him everything. I really wanted to leave my insurance agent job so I could pursue my dungeon full-time. But, there was no way to do that without lying to my father…unless I came out about it. It wasn’t on my agenda.
I stood, staring after Gabriel Burton as he laughed a little. Everything in me ached. I felt like I was on fire, my cheeks flushing as I thought of him pounding into me, using his entire body weight. Then again, I liked riding just as much, and the thought of being on top of him, topping him in general, was enough to give me the sweats; my mind clouded once again with the thought of hot sex.
Of course, I knew I couldn’t. My father was one obstacle, and the second was Gabriel’s obvious masculinity. How was I to introduce him to the lifestyle? Would he be receptive? I didn’t know, and I knew I wouldn’t.
I took a moment before I shook my head, turned and headed out.

Love’s Design

Love’s Design
https://amzn.to/2OmRb0c
K. L. Ramsey
Prologue

Shephard Jackson couldn’t believe that April Magness was friends with his sister-in-law, Karlie. His assignment was to keep a close eye on her, but on his day off, she was someone else’s problem. Which led him to his next thought, who in the hell was watching her and his family, now? It made him crazy knowing that someone, who was possibly dangerous, was hanging around his siblings, parents and his nieces and nephews. What could he do? He couldn’t let on that he knew who April was or what she knew, that would ultimately put everyone else in danger.
It was just crazy that Karlie and April knew each other from when Karlie lived in Georgia, before she married Drew. What were the odds that his assignment would show up at his family’s cookout for Christ sake? What if they found her here? What if they tried to hurt her, here, in front of his family?
April had been Shep’s assignment for the past five months. And to be honest, she wasn’t a hardship to watch. Her sexy little body and those curves drove him crazy most nights, while he watched her from his truck. He felt like a peeping Tom, watching her through binoculars, as she made dinner and watched TV. He watched her when she took her bath every night, longing to be the one undressing her, washing her, fucking her. But that job was left unfulfilled, as far as he could tell. He never saw her with any man and that made him so crazy, he almost stormed into her little townhome many nights. But his job was to keep her safe, not fuck her; and wasn’t that a shame.
Drew and Ryan pulled up a seat on either side of Shep and he could tell that his brothers were going to give him some shit. As the youngest brother in the family, he was often the butt of jokes and the receiver of many wedgies. Still, he knew that in a pinch, they would always be on his side.
“So, little brother, how long are you staying in town?” Drew slung his big arm around Shep’s shoulder and sideways bear hugged him.
“Yeah, how long will we get to annoy you before you head back to Tennessee?” Ryan tried to pull Shep in the opposite direction, also bear hugging him. Shep just smiled and shrugged them off. Although he was the baby, he was bigger than both of his brothers.
“I leave tonight. I have someone watching Mandy but she gets antsy after a bit.” Mandy was his golden retriever and at six months old, she could really tear some shit up if she was left too long. Sometimes, Shep wanted to move back to Alabama to be closer to his family but other times, he was happy to live two hours away, in another state. Besides, his cabin in the woods was worth the trip. He loved the isolation and solitude. If his family had a “black sheep,” he’d be it.
“Ya know, that pretty little brunet that you are stalking with your stare, she lives in Tennessee too - not far from you.” Drew looked pleased with himself as if he read his brother’s diary and knew exactly what he was thinking.
“What sexy little brunet?” Shep played stupid. Letting his brothers know that he found April attractive or even knew her, was not an option.
“He didn’t say ‘sexy’, dumb ass,” Ryan slapped Shep on his back, “he said ‘pretty’.”
“So, you do find her sexy then?” Drew couldn’t seem to help his smile. “Good to know,” he too slapped Shep on the back. Yeah, it was time to go. His brothers were getting in his business and messing with trouble that they shouldn’t mess with.
Shep stood to say his goodbyes, making the rounds with his family, squeezing each of his nieces and nephews until they giggled and squirmed. When he made his way to Karlie, he rubbed his sister-in-law’s very pregnant belly, “Not too much longer, huh?” Karlie smiled and kissed him on his cheek.
“You’ll come back to see your new niece or nephew, right?” He nodded, a little sad that another Jackson was going to be coming into the family and he was still completely alone. The truth was, he longed for what his two older brothers had but in his line of work, meeting women was hard to do. As a police detective, his nights were usually spent on stakeouts and his days were filled with paperwork. That didn’t leave much time for finding the right woman and settling down.
“Shep, have you met April?” Shep turned at the mention of her name and practically ran into her. Shit, meeting April Magness was not part of the plan.
“Hello,” Shep extended his hand and met her beautiful green eyes with his. The way she looked at him, he worried for a moment that she had seen him around, possibly even watching her.
April smiled and returned his handshake, “Karlie has told me so much about you.” Her smile didn’t touch her eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I hear you decorated Ryan and Jenna’s new house?” Shep needed to get out of there, but he didn’t want to be rude or spook April. After all, getting this close to her really wasn’t the plan.
“I sure did - I’m an interior designer. I owed Karlie a favor; otherwise, I generally don’t drive two hours to design a house.” This time her smile did meet her eyes and Shep couldn’t believe how beautiful April was up close.
“I hear we live in the same town. I could use a ride home. Drew picked me up today to come here since my car’s in the shop. Would you mind giving me a ride?”
Shep panicked. What was the department’s protocol for something like this? Each second that ticked by seemed like a giant cluster fuck waiting to happen.
“Sure.” What else could he say? Telling her ‘no’ might tip her off. “I’d be happy to drive you home, just let me say goodbye to my parents.” April nodded and Shep strode away wondering what to do next.
April and he made their way from the party to his pickup, when his phone rang. Shit, his Sargent.
“Sorry, I have to take this.” He tried to gain some distance from April, to have a private conversation but Ryan’s driveway didn’t give him much space.
“Jackson,” he barked into the phone.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Jackson? Your assignment is to watch Miss Magness, not fucking date her! Why the fuck am I hearing from Simmons that you are leaving your family’s fucking cookout with April Magness?”
Yeah, they were being watched and the Sarge wasn’t too happy about the whole mess.
“Sorry, but I really can’t talk now. I’m giving someone a ride home from my brother’s party. Can I call you later?” Shep knew that April was listening, although she tried hard not to.
“You better fucking call me later, Jackson. I think we need to discuss a few things.” The Sarge hung up and Shep cursed inwardly.
“Girlfriend?” April smiled up at him.
“What? Um, no. It’s just work.” Shep helped lift April up into the king cab of his Ram truck and damn it she felt good in his hands. He longed to put his hands all over her body, but he shut her door instead.
Yeah, this whole idea was a cluster fuck.
Chapter One

Shep wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do with April once he got her home. The crazy thing was he was on duty tonight to sit and watch her, outside her townhome. What was he supposed to do, drop her off at her front door, tell her it was nice to meet her and then sit in his truck and stalk her the rest of the night? He loved his job and he loved protecting innocent people. The problem with protecting April was, he didn’t know if she was innocent or not. He wasn’t sure if she was someone who needed his protection or if she was someone he needed to protect others from. Either way, she was his job right now and he was damn good at his job. He worked hard to get where he was in such a short time. It was almost three years ago that he decided to join the local police academy. He got a degree in criminal justice and his mom was hoping that he’d become a lawyer but that was never in his heart. He had known, since he was a young boy, that he wanted to become a police officer and that decision seemed to disappoint his parents more than he ever wanted to. He just followed his dreams, he wished his parents could accept that.
After he graduated from the academy he was offered a job in Tennessee and he jumped at the opportunity. It was not only a great offer, but it was a good excuse to leave Alabama. Things with his mom were a little rocky and he was ready to put some distance between his family and himself. His brothers, Drew and Ryan, had both settled down and were popping out kids like they were in a competition with each other. His little sister, Maddie, was in her last year at the University of Alabama. He was always the black sheep of his family. Being the youngest boy, he never seemed to find his niche in his family’s dynamic. So, he packed up all his shit and moved two hours away. He bought a little fixer-upper log cabin, out in the middle of nowhere; and he has never been happier.
Except now - sitting next to April in his pick-up truck, he wasn’t so fucking happy. This whole situation could have been avoided if he would have just made up some excuse, like he wanted to, and skipped his brother’s housewarming party. But, he had one of those moments where he felt that he needed to spend more time with his family. All in all, he loved seeing his brothers and their wives and kids. He longed to have what they had; to find the one woman who was meant for him, and have kids. But when his mother started riding his ass about being twenty-five and still single, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Then, when he got roped into driving April home - he wasn’t sure what the protocol was about a detective driving home the person who was under surveillance. Really, how in the hell did this happen?
He tried not to look over in her direction but when April heaved a deep sigh and started fidgeting, he couldn’t help but glance over at her. She was gorgeous with her long brown hair and fire engine red lipstick that she painted on her pouty lips. He wanted to kiss and lick all her lipstick off while wrapping her long ponytail around his hands. Yeah, he knew that he was fucked but watching her for five months hadn’t done much to curb his libido or desire for a woman that he wasn’t sure he could even trust.
April must have taken his glance as an invitation to start up a conversation. Shep guessed that continuing with the silent treatment was too much to ask.
“Um,” April squeaked and cleared her throat, “I really appreciate you driving me all the way back to Tennessee.”
“Yeah,” Shep’s throat felt a little dry, “It’s not a problem. As you know, I live in the same town.” Shep hadn’t felt this nervous talking to a girl since he was in high school.
“Well, it’s a small world,” April seemed like she didn’t really know what to say to him, either. She started fidgeting again, looking out her window. He felt like a heel, making her so nervous. He knew that he could do better to help ease her nerves without blowing his cover. As far as she knew, he was just Drew’s little brother.
“So, tell me about your design business.” Maybe he could get some information from her to help with his investigation. Of course, everything she would tell him would have to be off the books. It wasn’t like he could formally question her and have any of it hold up in court.
April pulled her attention from the landscape and smiled at Shep, taking his breath away. “Thank you for that,” she reached across his center console and covered his hand with hers. He immediately felt sparks shoot up his arm and he wanted to pull away, but he needed her to be comfortable, so he wrapped his hand in hers and squeezed.
“I’m feeling a little out of sorts lately; a little nervous. Thanks for trying to strike up a conversation.” She squeezed his hand in return and turned her attention to the passing landscape again. “I guess you could say that I’ve just been a little on edge lately. Life just isn’t going like I planned.” Shep loved the little southern twang that played with her voice when she talked to him - sexy. He loved a country girl. God, he needed to just get laid and get it out of his system. Otherwise, April was going to turn into trouble that he didn’t need.
“I’m sorry to hear that, April.” Shep caught himself rubbing his thumb over her little, soft hand that he held in his and he froze. April seemed to sense his tension, pulling her hand back to rest on her lap.
“Business is going well.” So, she was going to keep things formal? “As you know, I just finished up most of your brother’s house. I hope that Jenna likes it, I know that she wants to become a designer. I just hope I didn’t step on her toes with what I did to her home. Ryan and Karlie came up with the idea to have me do the main living room, master bedroom, and kids’ rooms. I guess with all of their little ones,” April sighed, “Jenna doesn’t have a whole lot of time for decorating.”
This time, Shep couldn’t help himself, he was the one to reach across and take April’s hand in his, linking their fingers. She seemed to feel the same longing that he had, for what his brothers found with their women.
“So, is their someone special in your life? Do you have any kids?” He already knew the answer, but he needed to pretend to be ignorant when it came to April Magness.
“Well, no. Would you be holding my hand if you thought that I had a husband or kids?” Good point, smart girl.
“Um, no. I just assumed that since you grabbed my hand first, that you were single.” April seemed to accept his reasoning, but boy was it hard to pretend that he hadn’t watched this beautiful woman for the past five months. She had even played some major roles in his late-night fantasies.
“So, how about you, Shep.” He couldn’t help but freeze, like a deer in the headlights. He didn’t really want to talk about himself. He couldn’t go with the truth but lying to her wouldn’t be easy. “Do you have anyone special in your life?”
Well, that one was easy to answer, “No.”
“How can a good-looking guy, like yourself, not have anyone special?” She seemed surprised by his lack of relationships, his mother would approve of April. “I mean, look at you - seriously, no-one?”
Shep checked his reflection in his rear-view mirror, making sure that she was seeing the same guy he saw every morning. He wasn’t ugly but all he could see was someone who was tired and with no promise of sleep anytime soon, his reflection likely wouldn’t change.
April laughed, pulling his attention away from his reflection, “You seemed confused, Shep. You don’t see it? I mean those baby blues of yours with that light brown hair a girl would love to run her fingers through - totally hot. And your body - how many times a day do you work out? Your arms are almost the size of my thighs and I’m guessing you have a six-pack under that t-shirt?”
He could feel his face heat and knew that he was blushing. Seriously, he was like a fucking school girl. April laughed again. “Well, I’m happy that I am so amusing,” he growled with a serious scowl. “Geeze, you’re not too shy about telling people what you think, sweetheart.”
Now it was April’s turn to blush and Shep couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I just call them like I see them Shep. And, you’re hot.”
Yeah, he really needed to change the subject because her talking about how she noticed his body only made him want her more. It was nice to be noticed for a change. His life seemed to be a revolving cycle of the gym, work, food, more work and sometimes sleep. He hadn’t had a soft, warm female under or over him, for that matter, in about six months now. His poor dick had probably forgotten what a pussy felt like. At the thought, his underused appendage seemed to stand up and take notice of April - yeah, down boy.
“So, what do you do for a living?” April’s change of subject grabbed his attention and he felt a spilt-second of panic. Now, he couldn’t tell her the truth, because she would most certainly bolt. He’d been trained to be undercover but lying to April felt wrong. She seemed too open and honest with him. But, he couldn’t forget that this woman was probably trouble.
“I own a construction company,” the lie rolled a little too easily off his tongue. It was his go-to cover, since he had worked construction in high school and college, he would at least know what he was talking about if someone asked too many questions.
“Huh - I didn’t expect you to be in construction.” April was studying him, and he feared that she could see through his lie. “I think I imagined you being something more…heroic.” April’s blush was adorable. “I mean, I was thinking more along the line of fireman or ENT, or even police officer.” She shrugged, “Do you like working in construction?”
Now it was Shep’s turn to shrug. He found it interesting that she thought of him as a policeman. It was almost like she knew him and that made him a little uncomfortable. Could she see through him or did she just have good instincts? He wanted to be done talking about himself. Telling one lie was easy but after a while, they just seemed to spiral out of control. The last thing he needed was to get caught in a lie. The two-hour ride felt more like two days. He just needed to keep his shit together for another hour or so, drop April off at her house and be on his way.
“Yeah, construction is great. Owning the company is a perk since I really don’t like working for others.” He spied their tail out his rear view and cringed inwardly at how true that statement was. Sarge was going to hand him his ass tonight after he dropped off April. Working for other’s and taking orders sometimes sucked - hell, it sucked all the time.
“To be truthful, I’d love to get out of construction and start my own security business.” Shep knew that he was letting her into his life with this admission, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He wanted to share his dream with her, and well, she was the first woman to ask him about his work in a very long time. April rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, reminding him that their hands were still joined. He’d almost forgotten their connection.
“See,” she beamed, “I knew you were a hero. I think you would fit as someone who protects others.” Yeah, definitely time to change the topic.
“So, I’m getting kind of hungry - you wanna grab a bite?” Shep regretted his question before it was even completely out of his mouth. What the fuck was wrong with him? He knew that his sergeant would have a fit, but he really didn’t want his time with April to end. Yeah, he’d have to be careful with how much he divulged to her, but she was surprisingly easy to talk to and if he could get any information to help his case, a little dinner out with a gorgeous woman wasn’t too much of a hardship.
She seemed nervous and a little fidgety again, pulling her hand from his and he immediately felt the loss of contact.
“April,” he ran his newly free hand through his hair and swore. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so forward. If you’re not comfortable with going to dinner with me, well - just forget that I even asked.” Shep regretted playing his hand too soon. The last thing he meant to do was scare April off or worse, spook her. His sergeant would have a complete meltdown if he blew cover and scared her into running. That would mean five months of hard work down the toilet and one pissed off boss. To top it all off, if April ran, she could be running right into danger. The guy that she was supposedly hiding from was no joke. He’d kill her as soon as he got his hands on her. Well, unless Sarge was correct and she was in on the whole thing. Shep just couldn’t see that being the case. Since he started watching her, he got the feeling that she was in danger. She was constantly looking over her shoulder whenever she was out in public. She seemed genuinely scared and he couldn’t stand to see the fear in her eyes. He wanted to bet on her; wanted to believe that April was innocent in the whole mess, but he just wasn’t sure.
“Shephard, I just - I’m not sure that you should take me out. I don’t want you to get hurt and I’m afraid that is all I will do to you, hurt you. If things were different, I would love to have dinner with you.” Her smile didn’t touch her eyes and Shep couldn’t help but take her hand back into his.
“Honey, I’m not sure what you are thinking, but I’m just looking to have dinner. I don’t think that either of us could be hurt over dinner.”
“I was involved with a dangerous man and he’s not the type to just let something or someone go. I just don’t want to get you involved in my crazy, Shep.”
Now he was getting somewhere. He didn’t want to seem too pushy, but he needed to take a chance while he still had one. “I know of a little pizza place, about thirty minutes from home. Why don’t we grab a pie and take it back to my place? I have a new puppy and I’m pretty sure she’s probably torn through my sofa by now.” He tried flashing her his smile but all that did was seem to make her even more nervous.
“I think that will be okay. I do love puppies, well I should say that I love all animals. I’ve never really had a pet.”
“Not even as a kid? We always had dogs when I was a boy.”
“No, they really don’t let you have pets in foster care.” April barked out a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I stayed with one nice family, at the end of my time in the system, but they didn’t allow pets.”
“I’m sorry,” Shep ran his thumb over her knuckles, hoping to soothe her. “How long were you in foster care?”
“My parents both died when I was eleven, car crash.” She almost whispered the last part. “I didn’t have any other family, so I went into the system.”
“Do you have any brother or sisters?” Shep wanted to pull her into his lap and hold her. Thank God he was driving and couldn’t act on his stupid instincts.
“Nope, just me,” she was watching the landscape again, and Shep could feel her sadness. He hurt for her. “You’d think after all this time that I’d have it more together and maybe at least be adult enough to own a goldfish. Honestly, I didn’t see my life turning out this way but I’m making a few changes and who knows - maybe next year will be my year.”
Shep pulled her hand to his lips and gently brushed her knuckles with a kiss. April gasped and tried to pull her hand away but he only tightened his hold. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, April.”
The rest of the ride to the pizza shop was quiet. Shep couldn’t figure out how her past stay, in the foster care system, never showed up in his paperwork on April, when he got the case. Someone somewhere fucked up and he needed to find out why that little piece of information wasn’t with her file. A part of him felt like a complete dick for wondering if her story was real. He lied to her about what he did for a living. Hell, he pretended to have no knowledge of her before meeting her at his brother’s party. As if he never watched her undress and then fantasize about her in the shower, after his shift finally ended. So yeah, it was possible that she just lied to him but the tear that ran down her cheek told him otherwise. If April was lying, then she was a damn good actress to boot.
He thought he knew just about all he needed to know about April Magness but here she was surprising the shit out of him.

Love Times Infinity

Love Times Infinity
https://amzn.to/2QipEPE
K.L. Ramsey
Chapter One

“Perfect, a flat tire. No, really, this is just what I needed, Universe, a show of just how stupid this entire idea was.” Karlie kicked the quickly deflating tire, just for good measure. Really, her luck had gone completely downhill since her moronic decision to travel home, at the last minute, for her little sister’s wedding. What kind of person tormented herself by attending the wedding of the only man that she ever loved and her only sister?
Karlie opened the trunk to her aging Civic and groaned. All of her crap needed to be moved to get to the spare tire. “Please be there, please be there,” she chanted, hoping that the spare wasn’t taken out by her loser ex when he borrowed her car last month and forgot to return it for a week. She was done with men. Done! This time, she really meant it. She seemed to only attract losers since Jake had dumped her for her sister. Her five years younger, prettier, nicer, skinnier sister. She’d given Jake seven years of her life. She loved him, and she knew that one day she would be Mrs. Jake Ashbrook, but now that name would be Jenna’s.
Jake had told her that he was bored, that he and Jenna hadn’t meant to fall into bed together. That sex with her sister was an accident but life-changing in a way that he couldn’t ignore. Karlie was sure it had nothing to do with Jenna’s new boob job that transformed her from a 12-year-old boy into a full D-cupped Jessica Rabbit. Yeah, her sister’s new boobs were life changing all right. Her sister’s life had changed for the better while her life had gone down the toilet.
After she found them in bed together, Karlie knew she couldn’t stay in Alabama. She had to leave their little town and her family and friends and just go. She needed to be somewhere that no-one knew of her heartbreak. No-one pitied her for her sister’s betrayal or her scummy ex’s decisions. She had moved on, and the last eight months had been hard. She had to learn not to rely on her family. She didn’t call home unless she absolutely had to check in, usually every other week, just to keep her parents happy. Her call home last night had led to her hastily packing her suitcase and gassing up her prehistoric car to drive from Georgia to Alabama. Her mom could persuade a saint to confess to sin. Her latest guilt-laden rant about how her only sister was getting married and that Karlie needed to grow up and act like a 25-year-old instead of a five-year-old, had just about sent her over the edge.
“She’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, Mother,” Karlie hissed when her mom accused her of not having a heart. “That would make Jenna the heartless one! They slept with each other while Jake and I were still together.” Karlie knew that she was shouting at a wall. Her mom had already made up her mind that Jenna deserved to be married to Jake.
“She’s pregnant,” her mom confessed.
That was it. Karlie hung up the phone and cried herself to sleep that night. The next morning, she was up by 6 a.m., showered and packed, with her car keys in hand, ready to leave. She sat for hours, in her car, arguing (out loud) with herself why she shouldn’t go. In the end, she was determined to be the bigger person about the whole situation. And it didn’t help that her mom had made her feel guilty. Jenna was her only sister and she was going to have a baby, a niece or nephew. Karlie wanted to be part of that baby’s life. Eight months would be long enough for her to hide in Atlanta. She needed to go home to Madison, even if it was just for a weekend, and face her family. That included Jenna and Jake. She could deal with the pity in people’s stares and whispers behind her back for three days and then she could just jump back into her car and head back to her new life in Atlanta. As a planner, this seemed like a good plan to her.
“Thank God,” she squealed as she twirled around with the tire iron in hand. “The ass didn’t take the spare.” But the $200 cash that she kept hidden with the spare was nowhere to be seen. Troy, her ex-boyfriend from Georgia, could have the cash and just stay the hell away from her. She was done with him and all other men. She grabbed the spare and lifted it out of the car, which was no small feat. Guess her eight-month absence from working out had taken its toll. But what was the point? If a guy was going to look past her over a few extra pounds, then he wasn’t her guy.
No guy was her guy and who needed one anyway?
Well, maybe a guy would be helpful at this particular moment. But luckily her father had made sure that he taught his daughters to be independent. Tire Changing 101 was one of her father’s first Saturday classes he’d taught them in his, “you don’t need a man,” school of life.
Blowing out a hot breath, she tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to remember what to do first. She needed to get her tire changed before the sun went down. It was starting to get a little chilly already. May was lovely in Alabama with warm days and cooler nights. Her shorts and T-shirt would do for now but in a few hours, she would need her sweatshirt again. “Okay, now I need the jack. Son of a Bitch!” No jack. “That fucktard took my jack.”
She threw down the tire iron, swearing and stomping her feet on the asphalt. The tire iron hit the road and bounced back, hitting Karlie on her shin. She exploded with curses, hopping around, holding her throbbing shin as a black Ford pickup pulled up behind her car. Her luck really couldn’t be this bad.
Drew Jackson jumped down from the driver’s seat with a shit-eating grin on his face. Yes, her luck really could be this bad. She wanted to hide, run, get back into her car, and drive straight back to Georgia. She picked up the assailing tire iron and looked straight into those beautiful green eyes of his. Big mistake. His smile grew even bigger and more beautiful. Huge mistake. She pretended to contemplate the hand that was holding the tire iron.
“Um, hi,” she squeaked.
“Hi.” His voice was just as sexy as his eyes, all gravely and deep. He just made her want to melt into a puddle, right there on the road. “Need some help?” he asked, moving a little closer to her.
The sun was directly behind him and she had to shield her eyes with her free hand to inspect his face. She’d forgotten how tall he was. At 5’5”, she felt like nothing standing next to his 6’2” frame. She’d also forgotten how broad his shoulders were and how good he could make an old black T-shirt and a pair of Levi’s look. She glanced down at the road again, taking in his work boots and her bruised shin.
“Help?” she said. “Why would I need help?”
He touched her hand that held the tire iron. “To, um, change a tire maybe?”
“Oh yeah, no,” she said, trying to get free of his grip, “I can change a tire on my own, thanks.” She took a step back because God help her, if he touched her again, she might lose the ability to speak at all. He was smiling again and took a step closer to her, eliminating the comfortable distance she thought she’d given herself.
“Changing your tire might be a little easier with a jack, don’t ya think? I don’t see one around. Why don’t you let me give you a hand and then we can both head to your sister’s rehearsal dinner and get there before it’s over.”
“How’d you know about my sister’s rehearsal dinner?” Karlie squinted back up at him, trying to decide if she would believe what he would say, even before he said it. Trust issues much? “I mean, how did you know that I would be heading to the rehearsal dinner?” Geeze, she even sounded accusing.
“Easy,” he said as he brushed a lock of her short blond hair back behind her ear.
Her knees actually buckled until she got a hold of herself and locked them. He must have noticed because his arms were around her waist so fast that she dropped the tire iron again, this time on his foot. He didn’t even flinch. “Steel toe boots,” he whispered, staring at her mouth.
She could feel the heat in his stare, his desire…for her?
“What?” She tried to back out of his grip. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to go. She retreated into her car’s back bumper and smacked her head on the open trunk lid. “Fuck.”
“Language,” he teased.
“Sorry, it’s just not my day. I should have stayed home like I planned. Now I’m here, on the side of the road with a flat tire and in the arms of a man I didn’t think even knew my damn name eight months ago.”
He tightened his hold around her middle. “Oh, honey, I knew your name,” he drawled. “You like to cuss more than any woman I’ve known.”
“Well, you don’t really know me, now do you, Drew?” She was done standing on the side of the road. Done being held by this man who smelled like heaven and was close enough to kiss. Her eyes fixed on his mouth and he seemed to notice. His body stiffened.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he rasped.
“Like how?” Karlie asked.
“Like you want me to kiss you. Because right now, darlin’, I want to do just that.”
“See, I don’t think you know my name, Drew. It’s not honey or darlin’, it’s—”
Then Drew’s lips were on hers, sealing over her mouth. His tongue slid across her closed lips, begging to enter. She gasped as he pulled her closer, grabbed her ass, and squeezed. That seemed to be what he wanted as his tongue entered her mouth. She licked him back and he moaned into her mouth. It was a good thing that he was holding her up because she couldn’t even feel her legs. He ended the kiss, leaving them both panting with the loss of air.
“Baby, I know your name. I know who you are, and I have wanted to do that since I first saw you, after I moved here in twelfth grade. You were the hottest girl in the senior class, and I knew I would never have a chance with you. I also knew that you were in love with Jake and that he’d have killed me if I ever even dared to touch you. I know you, Karlie Angel.”
Karlie felt a breath catch in her throat as she sighed. She snuggled into his arms and wiggled her butt, just enough to distract him. His hands were still on her ass and his fingers flexed. Good, she still had his attention.
“How would you like to be my date for my sister’s wedding?” She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Yeah, judging from Drew’s grin, she’d actually asked that.
Drew released her and took a step back. He was going to say no, she could see it in his face. His smile was meant to be polite. Okay, it was her fault for forgetting her new rule about swearing off the male population. She’d take his rejection and call someone to come pick her up. She was so close to her parents’ house, she could practically walk there with her suitcase and still make it to most of the rehearsal dinner in town.
“Sure, I’d love to be your date.” His southern drawl and sexy smile held her attention as he stared down at her.
“You would?” she squeaked. “You don’t have to if you already have a date. Or if you weren’t invited, you could be my plus one.”
“No, I’m invited. I don’t have a date, and I would love for you to be mine.” His sexy smile was back in place and he actually winked at her. How was she supposed to deal all of this? With him? His outrageousness was off-the-charts sexy, making her stomach do flips.
Again, she had nothing to say. How did he leave her speechless? No-one had ever left her with nothing to say, not even Jake. As for that, no one had ever kissed her like Drew just had. No one had grabbed her ass and…
“You’re doing it again,” Drew moaned.
“What?”
“Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you unless you’re ready for me to do just that.”
“What if I am?”
He took two long strides to kiss her again. This time, she was the one moaning and licking his lips. He opened for her and she kissed her way in, sucking his tongue. He started to back away from the kiss and she lightly nibbled his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth. He went crazy. His hands were all over her, scorching her everywhere he touched. Her hands flew to his light-brown hair, in need of a cut and sexy as hell. He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing, getting a better angle on her mouth. He cupped her ass, pressing her to his growing erection. Again, she groaned into his mouth and wrapped her legs around him. His hand went to her breast. With his seductive touch, even over her cotton T-shirt, her nipples hardened.
Suddenly, Drew put her down and shoved her behind him.
She all but fell head over ass into her trunk.
“What? Why?” she asked.
“We have company.”
How had she not heard the car pulling up behind his pick-up?
“Oh God,” she moaned. “My parents.”
Drew chuckled.
Yeah, he was genuinely laughing at her.
“This is not funny,” she said, slapping his bicep, noting how big and hard his muscles felt under her palm. It took her a minute to remove her hand.
“Well, darling, here you are,” her mother said as she got out from the passenger side of the car. Her dad still hadn’t moved from the driver’s seat. He was staring at Drew through the windshield as if sizing him up.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” Karlie smiled at her father and waved. He didn’t move.
Drew started walking toward her dad’s open window. What the hell was he doing?
“Hello, Mr. Angel. I was just helping Karlie with her flat tire.”
Drew’s smile didn’t seem to have the same effect on her father that it had on her. Her father didn’t smile back.
“Yeah, Dad,” Karlie said, “he was. But I was just explaining to Drew, here, that I don’t need any help to change a tire. You taught me everything that I needed to know.” Her nervous smile was not returned by her father either.
“Yes, sir, and I was just explaining to your daughter that a jack might be helpful in changing her tire.” Drew’s smile turned smug as he turned to face her. He sauntered back to her side and grabbed her hand to lace their fingers together, bending to give her a quick peck on the lips.
“Drew,” she said, “my parents are—”
“Right here,” her father finished. “And from what we saw driving down the lane, you two weren’t actually discussing anything. If that’s what young people are calling tire changing these days, it’s no wonder there are so many stranded vehicles on the sides of the road.” He looked back and forth between Karlie and Drew.
Karlie could feel the heat coming from her face.
Still holding her hand, Drew cleared his throat and turned to her father. “Well, sir,” he said, “Karlie and I haven’t seen each other in a while and we were just catching up.”
“Huh,” her father grunted. “Well, as I recall, you are both supposed to be at our Jenna’s rehearsal dinner right now. Why don’t you leave your car here, Karlie? We can take care of the tire after dinner.”
“Sir,” Drew said, “Karlie can ride with me since she has agreed to be my date for the weekend.”
Karlie whirled around to look at him. “For the weekend?” she questioned. “I thought we were just going to the wedding together?”
“Naw.” He grinned. “I’m the best man. I need a date for the rehearsal dinner too. You game?” He squeezed her fingers and bent to brush his lips to hers. This time, he lingered a few seconds.
Her father cleared his throat. “I really don’t care who she rides with. We just need for all of us to get to the restaurant.”
Karlie could tell that her dad was done with Drew’s public displays of affection for her. And her mom was…smiling at them? Usually, Karlie could count on her mom to chide her for her decisions in men, not smile at her approvingly.
“Wait,” Karlie said. “You’re the best man?” So what if it took her a minute to catch up? Things were moving way too fast right now. All of this touching and kissing and touching was just throwing her off her game. “How are you the best man? You and Jake weren’t even friends when I left here eight months ago. How are you two best friends now?”
“We aren’t,” Drew said. “He and my brother are best friends. But my brother is on active duty in the Navy and he got shipped out two days ago. Ryan asked me to step up in his place and be Jake’s best man.”
“Oh.”
“And now I will have the prettiest date at the wedding.” Drew was once again tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Such a sweet gesture, standing in for his brother. Why hadn’t she ever noticed Drew before? Sure, she remembered him from high school and from parties around town. He never seemed to really even notice her, with all of the other girls in town throwing themselves at him. How did he need a date for the wedding?
“I think that you are sweet to stand in for your brother,” she said. “I would love to be your date this weekend, thank you.” She smiled up at him, forgetting her parents until they both cleared their throats.
She turned to them. “We can leave my car here and I will ride with Drew, but I need to clean up and change before the rehearsal dinner. I certainly can’t go like this.” Karlie gestured to her shorts and T-shirt, and her mom nodded.
“Can I shower at the house and then we can meet you at the restaurant?” she asked her mom as she and Drew got her suitcase and put it into his extended cab.
“Well.” Her mom shifted from foot to foot, obviously nervous. She couldn’t seem to look Karlie in the eyes as she went on. “Your sister is staying with us, along with all of her bridesmaids. It’s bad luck for Jake to see her before the wedding and Jenna really wants a traditional wedding.”
“Yeah, that’s really worked out since she’s pregnant.” Karlie felt bad the moment she said it. It was going to take a lot of practice to not be snarky about her sister’s new situation.
Drew coughed, not a real cough but one to grab her attention. She looked up at him as he was closing her trunk and he was not smiling.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll try harder.”
Drew approached and linked their fingers together, throwing her off balance.
“So, where am I supposed to stay,” she asked her mom, already knowing her answer.
“Um, a hotel?”
“Is there a special hotel in town where the wedding guests are staying?” At this point, Karlie just wanted a quick shower and someplace to crash.
Her mother started to twist her hands together, a sure sign that she didn’t want to tell Karlie the next part. “Well, yes, but they are completely booked.”
“Everywhere is booked,” her dad said. “A big convention for NASA was in town.” He went on to explain that she couldn’t even get a rental car let alone a hotel room.
“Great.” Karlie threw her hands up and let them fall, slapping them against her thighs, forgetting that her and Drew’s hands were linked.
Drew just laughed. Then he faced her. “How about you stay with me?”
“You? Seriously?” Karlie countered. “How can we stay together? We really don’t even know each other. Up until a few minutes ago, I thought you didn’t even know my name.”
Adorable, the way his brows furrowed, and his eyes squinted as he studied her. “How can you say we don’t know each other? That’s ridiculous. We’ve known each other since senior year.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable with me staying at your place.”
“I want you to stay with me. I have a house and you can have your own space if you want.” He raised their joined hands and kissed her fingers, one at a time.
Her insides melted, and her knees felt weak again. She had to hold back her moan.
“Okay, fine. I’ll stay at your place, with you.” She just wanted a shower and to get tonight over with.
“We’ll meet you at the restaurant,” her dad said.
Her mom gave them a smile and a wave as she got into the passenger side.
Drew helped her up into his truck after he double-checked that her car was all locked up. It was nice, the way that he helped her, even though she didn’t need the help. He slid into the driver’s seat and gave her one of his panty-melting smiles. Yeah, that was nice too. She could get used to those smiles.
No. She was only there for three days, to be the bigger person, and then she was going home to Georgia.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy her date for the weekend first, right? No, no, no. No men! She would just need to keep repeating her new mantra to herself. How could she have thought that living with Drew for the next three days was a good idea? It was the worst idea she’d had in the entire eight months since leaving Alabama. She would need to be on her toes with him and take lots of cold showers. Yeah, another plan. That’s what she needed. She would stay in the furthest room she could from Drew’s master bedroom.
“Buckle up, honey,” Drew said as he took her hand, linking their fingers. How had that become something she’d gotten used to already? “We’ll be to my place in five minutes.”
Five minutes to get her racing heartbeat under control. Five minutes to get her traitorous body under control. Five minutes to silently chant her new mantra. Karlie buckled up, knowing full well that it was going to be a long five minutes.
Chapter Two

Drew couldn’t stop his heart from racing. Karlie had actually come home for her sister’s wedding. Last time he asked Jake about Karlie, Jake told him that there was no way in hell that Karlie would show her face. Jake had been so smug about Karlie not coming for the wedding he even laughed about it. “She won’t want to watch the love of her life marry her baby sister. She’s still heartbroken over losing me. That’s why she ran off, all the way to Georgia. Poor girl knows what she’s lost.”
Drew had wanted to punch Jake in the mouth for the disgusting things he’d said about Karlie, but he’d made a promise to his brother to be Jake’s best man. So, for now, he’d put up with the asshole.
With the way Karlie had kissed him and responded to him touching her, she sure didn’t seem to be hung up on Jake. God, he’d kissed Karlie. It felt so good. He was still hard from what they’d started on the street before her parents had showed up. He didn’t have any plans on stopping and Karlie seemed to be on the same page. Sex on the trunk of her car would have been good but he wanted to take his time, lay her out on his bed and make a feast of her. He’d dreamed about this chance for over seven years now.
When Karlie and Jake broke up, Drew thought that he was finally going to get his chance to ask Karlie out. But he wanted to give her a little time to get over Jake and Jenna’s betrayal. He would see Karlie in the local diner or at the movies, but she just seemed so upset he couldn’t bring himself to make a move. Maybe he was afraid she’d reject him or maybe he just didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already seemed to be hurting. He’d decided to give her a month to get over the breakup then he was going to make his move. But after two weeks, Karlie was gone. He asked around, trying to find out where she went or if she was coming back.
When he spoke to her mom, Mrs. Angel told him that Karlie had moved to Georgia. He thought about finding out where she was living and just “running” into her one day but there never seemed to be a good time for that trip. His auto shop was finally taking off and he was the only mechanic. Until he hired another guy, he would have to pick up all the slack. He was damn proud of Jackson Auto. He bought the old shop off of his Uncle Jed, when he wanted to retire. Jed had all but run the business into the ground with bad bookkeeping. When Drew took over the business, he didn’t have the money for an office manager or bookkeeper, so he did it all. Long days and even longer nights became the norm for him. There was no time to go to Atlanta and hope to run into Karlie. And, even if he had, would she have even cared?
Now, as he pulled up to his house, he felt oddly worried that she wouldn’t like it. He’d never worried about what other people thought of him or anything that belonged to him. But he wanted Karlie to like his space.
“This is me,” he almost whispered. What the hell was wrong with him? He cleared his throat.
“You own the old Gain’s house?” She seemed surprised by this. He bought the house last year after his business was finally in the black. He really wanted a place to call his own. For the three years prior, he lived above his shop. It wasn’t that bad, he was there working, anyway and he had all the conveniences of home: a bathroom, shower, a small kitchen area and a bed. Last year, all he could think about was putting down roots. If he were being honest with himself, he was picturing Karlie in the house when he’d first looked at it. That was when he knew he wanted to live here. He put in an offer and a month and a half later, he was moving in. When Karlie had ended it with Jake, a small part of Drew wished that his dream of her living in his home would happen. And now, she was here.
“I love this house.” She was just staring at it, and God she was beautiful. She looked like a kid that had just gotten what she wanted for Christmas. She liked his house. A sigh of relief bubbled up.
“When I was a kid,” she said, “I used to tell Jenna that someday I would live in this house. I’d imagine being here with my family, kids, a husband”—she gave a short laugh— “and maybe even a dog and cat. They’d always be fighting.” She looked at Drew and his heart just about jumped out of his damn chest. She didn’t just like the house, she loved it.
Karlie undid her seatbelt and started to get out. “Stay put,” he told her as he slipped from his side of the truck and ran around to get her. He opened the door for her and took her hand to help her out. She smiled, the first smile he’d seen on her face since he spotted her on the side of the road. Her smile transformed her into that beautiful teenage girl that he secretly crushed on. She took his breath away.
No, keep it together, stupid. You don’t want to scare her off.
The last thing Drew wanted was to see Karlie running back to Atlanta. Now that she was here, he wanted his chance. He needed to show her that they could be good together. He had waited this long, he could take his time to make sure she wouldn’t run off again. Seven years was a long time to wait. Sure, he didn’t spend all that time alone. There had been other women. He liked to have a good time and always made sure that the women knew where he stood with a relationship¬: he didn’t want one. He’d go on dates, and there was usually sex. But he never really dated the same woman more than once. He didn’t want to get tangled up and have to deal with messy relationship feelings. In all those seven years, he only really slipped up with one woman, Lisa Hastings. He took her to dinner a few times and they had sex so often that he even left a toothbrush and a change of clothes at her place, out of convenience. It wasn’t like he could take her back to his apartment above his shop. When he realized that she had other ideas about where their relationship was going, it was too late. He had to break if off with her. It wasn’t fair that he thought of their time together as just sex and she was picking out china patterns. He wanted to have fun and he wanted Karlie. Karlie was the only woman that he ever thought of for long term. He just had to make sure not to spook her.
Karlie jumped down out of his truck. Cute. She was so tiny he’d had to lift her up into the seat, not that he minded that. “L-Let me grab my bags,” she stuttered. Was she nervous? He pulled her around and kissed her soundly. He lingered for just a moment, not wanting to give the neighbors too much to talk about. “Hi,” he said, pushing her hair from her eyes. “I love your new haircut. Did you do it after you left? Your hair was really long when you were with . . .” He froze. How could he be so stupid to bring up Jake? He closed his eyes, trying to regroup.
“It’s okay, you can say his name, Drew. As of tomorrow, Jake is going to be my brother-in-law. I am okay with it all. I have moved on.” Her smile gave him hope. She’d moved on, without Jake. Good.
“How about I grab your bags and we get you inside for a quick shower?” he asked. She shyly nodded.
“My dad just texted me to get my caboose over there so that I can catch the tail end of the rehearsal. Although, I’m not sure why. I’m not in the wedding party.” She gasped, putting her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh my God, but you are! You’re the best man and you need to be there. I’ve distracted you with my problems. I’m so sorry Drew. You promised your brother that—”
He couldn’t stand it anymore. He kissed her, this time giving the neighbor’s something to talk about. He crushed her mouth with his and licked his way inside. She moaned then wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers into his hair. Every damn time. She responded to him kissing her like she was starving, and he was her last meal. She moaned, and he couldn’t take it. He lifted her up against his body. She seemed to fit to him perfectly, especially when she wrapped her legs around him. He walked with her like that to the house, kissing her senseless. He punched in the code and opened his side door. He slammed the door behind them and set her on the landing. He reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, and she groaned in protest.
He chuckled. “Honey, I don’t want to stop anymore then you do. I need to get you in the shower.” She turned bright pink. Huh, cute. Karlie started stammering, incoherently. Even cuter. He stopped her with one more quick, hard kiss.
“I’ll go out and bring in your bags after I show you to the bathroom.” He grabbed her hand and started leading her toward the bedrooms. He hoped that what he planned on doing wouldn’t spook her too much but there was no way that he was putting her into the guest bedroom. His bedroom was on the right and he entered and turned on the light. She blinked against the brightness and then seemed to understand what room she was in.
“If this isn’t okay, tell me now,” he said. “Otherwise, I want you with me, in my bed. If you don’t want that, now is the time to tell me. I have other rooms and you can have one of them.” He waited. He could almost see her thinking like she was discussing pros and cons with herself. To be truthful, she looked a little spooked. He laughed again. He’d laughed more with her in the past hour than he had in the past six months.
“Baby, I can see you thinking.” He rubbed the skin at the bridge of her nose between her eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles. “It’s okay. I want you and I think you want me.” She nodded hard and fast, causing him to chuckle again. “Then baby, just stay with me for the weekend.” She nodded again, this time much more cautiously. He kissed the side of her mouth and led her back to his en-suite. She gasped.
“It’s huge and beautiful.” She ran her fingers along the claw foot tub. “I wish I had time for a bath!” she gushed.
“Later, baby. I’ll run you a bubble bath and you can relax and unwind after the rehearsal dinner. You’ll probably need that.” He shrugged. “For now, the shower’s there and you can help yourself to the towels and toiletries in the closet there. I’ll be right back in with your bags.” He pecked her on the mouth and squeezed her ass. He needed to touch her. She squealed and teasingly slapped his arm.
***
Karlie knew that she was going against her new mantra, but she couldn’t tell Drew no. She wanted him so much that not being with him wasn’t even a thought she wanted to entertain. At least he distracted her from having to think about seeing Jenna and Jake for the first time since she found them in bed together. No, that couldn’t be the only reason that she had agreed to all of this, this train wreck. That’s the only way that she saw this ending with Drew, in a wreck. Unfortunately, that was the way her life had been going since that night. Drew would run the other way when he realized that she was a train wreck from start to finish.
Her new apartment was great but as for the rest of starting over, her life wasn’t going quite as planned. She had only one real friend in Atlanta and her job was a complete dead end. She worked at an accounting firm, but she was more of a secretary than an accountant. She was hoping that she would be able to work her way up, but that plan was also going down the toilet. Nothing seemed to be working out in Atlanta, other than it gave her a safe place to be alone to figure things out. A place where she didn’t have to see Jenna or Jake.
“You gonna get into the water or just stand there staring off?”
Drew had startled her so badly that she screamed and jumped, hitting her knee on the vanity. He laughed. He seemed to laugh at her a lot.
“Well, I was letting it heat up. And it seems that if I wanted any privacy, I’d need to lock the bathroom door.” She smirked with her last statement and started ushering him to the door.
“But, I am excellent at washing backs,” he drawled, pretending to act affronted that she wasn’t letting him help.
“We need to get out of here, so you can go do your best man thing,” she teased. “I can get a shower and get dressed much faster without you distracting me.”
“So, I distract you?” He turned and pulled her into his arms, kissing down her neck. “Does this distract you?” he asked, nibbling her collarbone.
“Ye-Yes,” she stuttered. “You need to stop that, or I’ll run out of hot water.”
He growled, literally growled, in frustration. It was her turn to giggle at him. She swatted him away, shooing him out the bathroom door. She thought about locking the door but turned and started stripping off her shorts and T-shirt. She stepped into the steamy spray and just washed away the grime from the road trip. She was determined to look her best tonight and tomorrow. She was going to plaster on some makeup and a smile and show everyone how well she was doing, even if most of it was a lie. At least she didn’t have to go through the next couple days alone. Thinking about having Drew with her made her feel safe and very hopeful about the weekend.
***
Drew took a very cold shower in the guest bathroom and dressed in his suit. It took everything in him not to think about Karlie in his bathroom rubbing his soap all over her sexy body. God, he wished she would have taken him up on his offer to help her shower. Unfortunately, she was right, they needed to get to the rehearsal dinner and get it over with. Agreeing to stand in for his brother might have been the right thing to do but he really didn’t want to stand up for Jake. He was such a slimy bastard, the way he’d treated Karlie and used her sister. He’d overheard Ryan talking before he shipped out, saying that Jake had slept with Jenna on a bet. Some guys at the local dive in town bet him he couldn’t get both sisters in the same bed together.
After Karlie had dumped Jake’s ass he just started up with Jenna. Then, the buzz around town was that Jenna was pregnant. Jake had no choice but to marry Jenna, Mr. Angel had made that crystal clear. He also promised to put a nice down payment on a house for the “happy couple” and he promised Jake a good position at his engineering firm. For a guy with no education and no money in the bank, Jake had sure made out for knocking up his girlfriend. The sick part about it was that Drew had heard Jake bragging about his good fortune all around town. Thank God Jenna didn’t seem to notice what a sleaze the guy was. Or maybe that was the problem. Maybe if she knew what kind of guy Jake was, she’d have second thoughts about marrying him. Not his circus, not his clowns. He would do as he promised and stand in for his brother. Beyond that, he didn’t give a shit. All he knew was that he didn’t want Karlie hurt. That meant keeping Jake away from her, as much as possible, and trying to keep her from hearing they gossip that was flying around town.
Drew checked his watch and studied his reflection in the mirror one last time. He wished he could just wear jeans and a baseball cap. No, scratch that. He wished he could be naked and in bed, with Karlie, but that would have to wait until this entire fiasco was over. Tonight, if Karlie was willing, he’d have his way with her, finally.
“Um…”
He turned and saw her in an almost-too-short light-blue cocktail dress that showed off every last curve. Lord, did the girl have some beautiful curves in all the right places. She smiled and twirled when he whistled. Her ass, God he loved her ass, looked perfect in that dress. Her shoes were sexy as sin, silver strappy heels that made her legs look a mile long.
“Fuck baby, those shoes, and that dress…you look amazing,” he drawled. He walked toward the door where she stood soaking up his praise. As soon as he got his hands on her, she leaned into him.
“Wear those shoes tonight, baby, after we get back here. In fact, wear those shoes and nothing else.” He nibbled her exposed neck and loved the way she turned pink. He loved her blush, found it sexy as hell.
He cupped her ass. “Baby, your ass looks amazing in this dress.” She blushed even more. Nice. He nibbled back up her neck and saw that she was only wearing a light gloss on her lips. He wanted to nibble the gloss off those lips. He kissed her, soft nibbles at first and when she cuddled into him tighter, he couldn’t hold back. He devoured her lips, licking into her mouth. He left her mouth swollen and sexy from his kiss, making him want more.
“We are already so late,” she whispered, out of breath. “We need to get you there. I don’t want anyone to think that I was the one keeping you from your duty.” She looked so unsure.
“Are you sure that you want to do this? No one would blame you for missing this whole wedding, baby. No one would think less of you,” he promised, rubbing his knuckles down her soft cheek.
Her laugh sounded like a bark, sharp and high. “They already talk about me. From what I hear, I’m the gossip of the town. I really don’t care what they say or think about me. When this is over, I’ll go back to Atlanta and the gossip won’t be able to touch me again.”
His heart sank. He’d have to work hard to convince her to stay with him. He was hoping he’d be able to tie her to him somehow, show her that they fit. He’d have his work cut out for him.
***
When they got to the restaurant, Karlie froze. She didn’t want to get out of Drew’s truck. Her dad had texted her, again, and told her to just meet them at the restaurant. Her father didn’t seem too pleased that they had missed the actual rehearsal. Not my fault. If she had her way, she and Drew would be back at his house, possibly in his bed. Sex with Drew would be mind-blowingly amazing. She needed something like that. Something to take her mind off the evening she was about to face.
Drew grabbed her hand, linking their fingers. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, calming her. She hadn’t realized that her heart was racing until that moment. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on just getting her heartbeat and breathing under control. When she opened her eyes, Drew’s face was right in front of hers, his hands caressing her cheeks. So sweet, so comforting. How could she feel so safe and comforted by him? Technically, she had known him since high school, but she never really talked to him, until today. Now, she couldn’t imagine him not talking to her or touching her or especially not kissing her. They hadn’t even had sex yet. Still she felt so connected to him.
“You ready for this? Just say the word and we’ll go home.”
Home. Drew’s home because her home was all the way in Atlanta now.
“No, I’ve got this.” She thought she sounded convincing, not too shaky.
“Let’s do this then. Just stick to me and I’ll get you through,” he promised and followed it up with a short kiss.
Karlie smiled, trying to thank him for everything, but not having the words at that moment.
She checked her makeup and spiky hair in the rearview. “As good as it gets,” she whispered.
Drew was at her door, and just behind him, on the curb, stood Jake.
Drew saw Jake on the curb before Karlie had and from the angry look on her face, she wasn’t too happy to see her ex. Jake, the sleazebag, was just staring at her with a nasty sneer on his smug face. Drew fought the anger roiling in his gut. It took everything in him not to walk right up to Jake and punch the smug look right off his face. Drew opened Karlie’s door. The sooner they got into the restaurant, the sooner they could leave. He could make Karlie forget all about the asshole staring at her right now.
“You okay, baby? You with me?” he asked.
Her gaze flew to his face and instantly, her face warmed.
“Don’t even look at him,” Drew said. “Hell, don’t even talk to him. I’ll take care of him. You just be here for your family and sister this weekend.” He never felt such a fierce need to protect someone in his life. He wanted to tear things down, beat people up and just annihilate anyone who tried to even come near her. He helped her out of his truck and pulled her to his side.
“Well, well, it’s about time you showed up,” Jake said. “This one keeping you too busy to fulfill your obligations Drew?” He eyed Karlie like a panther surveying his prey. His ugly sneer was plastered back on his face.
“You look real nice, sweetheart,” Jake said and bent toward Karlie for a kiss.
Drew blocked Jake’s access to Karlie with his body, shoving her behind him.
“She’s not your sweetheart any more. That’s something you’d do well to remember if you’d like to keep that face all pretty for your wedding to Karlie’s sister tomorrow,” Drew growled, keeping his smile mean. “Karlie is here to support her sister and her parents this weekend. You don’t get to talk to her, touch her, or look at her. If you ever try to kiss her again, I’ll make sure your lips don’t work for your honeymoon. We clear, chief?” Drew asked.
Jake just laughed and shook his head. “Well, isn’t this cozy. You been back in town a total of what, ten minutes, and here you are all snuggled up to Drew. You knew he had a thing for you and you just decided to use that to your advantage, huh? I always knew you had it in you to be a slut, just like your little sis—”
Jake didn’t get the chance to finish his ugly sentence since Drew had him flying backward, hitting the brick wall to the restaurant.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, you son of a bitch. You don’t talk to her. Ever.” Drew took Jake by the collar of his nicely pressed dress shirt.
Jake chuckled like he didn’t give a shit.
“Yeah, man, I get you. You’re her knight in shining armor now. Fucking let go of me or we will be doing more than talking.” Jake tried to pull off nonchalance, but Drew could see the fear in his eyes.
“Drew, everyone is watching us.” Karlie sounded pain stricken. “My dad doesn’t look very happy either. We should just go inside.”
“Yeah, Drew, you should just go inside. You don’t want to mess up Bob’s new son-in-law and the father of his grandchild. Bob might not take too kindly to that.” It made Drew sick to hear Jake refer to Mr. Angel by his first name. He never had respect for any other human being besides himself. Drew slowly released the asshole and took Karlie’s hand. They just needed to get this over with, but Drew didn’t think that he could stand being around Jake without killing him. The way Karlie was looking at them both …He hoped he hadn’t just messed up everything he’d started with her.

Line of Fire

Line of Fire
Book Two of The Harvest Ridge Series
https://amzn.to/2AFBIo1
K.L. Ramsey
Chapter One

Aaron Steele sat up in his bed, sweat running down his bare chest. It was almost Christmas, but you wouldn’t know it from the weather in California. He missed Colorado winters, especially during the holidays. He missed the friends that he’d left behind in Harvest Ridge, but mostly, he missed Sunny.
God, he missed Sunshine Francis. She was one of the reasons that he’d left Colorado to train forest firefighters in California. She had gotten too close and that was something that he couldn’t let happen. They’d spent one perfect night together, back in April, and she still possessed a piece of his heart. He’d tried to move on, hoping to find a new normal, and he’d been doing just fine until he’d got a message from his best friend, Taggart Harrison.
Tag had all but demanded that Aaron high tail his ass back to Harvest Ridge because Piper and Sunny were in some sort of trouble. This morning, Aaron had talked to his supervisor about taking a leave of absence. He’d promised that he would finish out the week, but then he was heading back to Harvest Ridge. He needed to go home to make sure that Sunny was safe, even knowing how painful it would be to walk away from her again.
He tried to settle down in his uncomfortable, tiny bunk, hoping that sleep would find him again. But that meant that the nightmares would probably catch up to him too. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since that night he’d spent in Sunny’s arms and he’d give just about anything to be snuggled in her bed now. His cock was hard just thinking about her sexy body curled up next to his. But, that wasn’t going to happen. He was too messed up to even consider dragging her into his life; it wouldn’t be fair.
He closed his eyes, and the faces of the men that he’d lost from his company slowly played through his mind, as they had done every night for the past five years.
Aaron had been a new firefighter when his company was called in on the Wolf Creek Pass fire since they had forest fire training. It was the second largest forest fire in Colorado’s history, burning over 110,000 acres. The entire clusterfuck was considered a natural disaster since it had started from a lightning strike. Three forest fires merged to create one of the worst natural disasters the state of Colorado had ever seen. It also took the lives of fifteen of his closest friends—men that he considered his brothers. Three men from his company made it home from that fire, and he was one of them. To this day, he felt a pang of guilt that he was still around, fighting fires and enjoying life, while so many families had lost husbands, fathers and brothers. Honestly, no one was at home waiting for him when he’d returned from that disaster with a few scrapes and a broken arm. He’d taken some time off to heal physically, but the invisible wounds—the demons that he fought every night when he shut his eyes—never healed.
For the short time that he and Sunny were hanging out, he thought that he might be able to get past the guilt of surviving. But then they’d taken it too far, sleeping together, and the feelings that she’d brought to the surface had scared the crap out of him. He’d acted like a first-class heel, avoiding her after their one night, but that had only made her angry. When Sunshine Francis got angry, there was no stopping that woman. She’d made sure that he’d never had a moment’s peace.
At Tag and Piper’s wedding, she mean mugged him, while whispering to the bride. He knew that she was talking about him, the way they both kept looking in his direction. Tag and Torren gave him some shit about just going after her and taking what he wanted, but they didn’t understand the constant turmoil he was in. Guilt does that to a man—turns him inside out and upside down until he doesn’t know which way is up. Aaron couldn’t drag Sunny into his already fucked up life, no matter how much he wanted to. She was better off without him.
Sunny was gorgeous; with her sexy little body and short brown hair she drove him crazy with lust. That’s why going back to Harvest Ridge, even for a few days, scared the shit out of him. He just didn’t know if he’d be able to handle seeing Sunny again. Even if he got through spending the holidays with her, would he want to leave her again? Could he just walk away from her and not look back?
He’d never had a problem with leaving women before. Hell, he was even pretty good at it. He had his time in the air force to thank for that since the military hadn’t left him much choice about where he was sent. He was good at loving and leaving the ladies whenever duty called, and he moved on. He’d spent most of his career in the Middle East, securing flights for military personnel. He would process the soldiers as they went from the field to go back home on leave. He would never forget the faces of the men and women that passed through the base; their ghostlike expressions from the devastation that they witnessed still haunted him.
He’d enlisted in the air force when he was just eighteen, fresh out of high school. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to go to college, so his guidance counselor handed him a pamphlet for each of the military branches. He picked one and the rest was history. Aaron served his mandatory eight years and got out when he was twenty-six. He took some time to travel, not really having a home base. His mom had died the year before he graduated high school and his dad had remarried. His stepmom wasn’t his biggest fan, and he never wanted to cause his dad any trouble, so he stayed away. He got an occasional birthday or Christmas card, but never much more.
He’d drifted from state to state, working odd jobs, not sure what he wanted to do or where he wanted to end up. One day, he stumbled across Harvest Ridge when he blew a tire on his pickup truck. He stayed the night in town, waiting for his new tire to be delivered and he never left. Aaron met Tag and Torren Harrison and the three of them became instant friends, sharing a love of the outdoors. He helped them with their adventure business, leading groups out on hikes, and even went on a few white-water rafting trips to lend a hand.
Tag had introduced him to the chief at the local fire station, and Aaron signed up and trained to be a firefighter. He loved his job, right up until that fateful day, five years ago.
Every man in his company knew what they were getting into that day. They knew how dangerous the fire was and they all agreed that saving Harvest Ridge was too important not to try. Each person in that group either lived in town or had family that did. They couldn’t sit back and hope that the fire would spare their small town. They went up the mountain, right into the belly of the beast, and dug trenches to stop the fire from spreading any further. Their efforts were met with a backdraft, caused by shifting winds. Before the group even knew what hit them, they were surrounded by flames. When Aaron closed his eyes at night, he could still see the terror in his buddies’ eyes and hear their screams of agony, as he had no choice but to retreat down the mountain. Those sounds—and images—would haunt him for the rest of his life, no matter how many mandatory therapy sessions his station forced him to attend.
Now, he was about to turn thirty-four and he had nothing to show for it except regret, guilt and a crazy longing for a woman that he knew was better off without him. Still, he was willing to put himself through a little hell to make sure that Sunny was safe. She had come to mean something to him, although he had no idea what that meant or what to do with those feelings. When he’d talked to Tag, every protective instinct had come to life within him. All he could think about was getting back to Harvest Ridge and keeping Sunny safe. Once he knew that she was alright, he could head back out of town and out of her life. Because keeping Sunny safe from him was also part of the deal.
***
Aaron finished out his work week, as he’d promised, and packed his belongings into the small duffle bag that he practically lived out of. He’d kept his loft in Colorado, only taking what was necessary to California. Aaron hadn’t planned on returning to Harvest Ridge so soon, but he had no choice. He threw his bag in his pickup truck and started the drive back home. If he was lucky, and the weather held, he would be home in two days. He knew that, once he hit the mountains, the weather would be the wild card factor in his drive time.
He needed some news from Tag, but his friend hadn’t called or texted in days. The last thing he heard was that some asshole was trying to get to Piper by using her aunt, Lorna. Sawyer had Torren guarding Sunny and that felt like a kick in the gut. Aaron knew that Torren and Sunny had had a fling awhile back—what if they hooked up again? Sometimes, danger could throw two people together. He shook his head, trying to clear the image of Torren and Sunny in bed. Aaron wanted Sunny to move on and find someone to be with. Hell, he wanted her to fall in love and have a family—kids, a dog, the whole nine yards. If he was being completely honest, he wanted her to find those things with him, but he was smart enough to know that wasn’t a possibility.
He needed to make sure that something hadn’t happened to Tag, Piper or Sunny. The thought of someone hurting Sunny made him madder than hell. He decided to give Sawyer a call—not knowing what the hell was going on wasn’t working for him. He pulled out his cell and dialed Sawyer’s number. His friend’s grumpy greeting made him smile, reminding him that he had been away from home for too long.
“Yeah, Aaron, it’s about fucking time.” Sawyer sounded like he’d been through hell.
“Well, Merry fucking Christmas to you too, man.” Aaron huffed out a laugh.
“Sorry, man. I’ve got a lot going on right now. I’m planning a wedding.”
Aaron wanted to laugh at the thought of Sawyer as a wedding planner.
“So, the whole bodyguard thing didn’t work out then?” Aaron couldn’t help laughing at his own joke. He knew that he was starting to piss Sawyer off, judging from his friend’s growl into the other end of the line.
“I’m throwing Lorna a surprise wedding for Christmas. We are going to have a baby and Piper is helping me to plan a Christmas wedding. We have been trying to reach you for months now, man. Where are you?” Sawyer sounded like he was doing fifteen things at one time, judging from the amount of noise coming from the other end of the line.
“Sorry, man. I’m heading back to town now. I’ll be there tomorrow. Tell me that everyone is safe. Last time I talked to Tag, someone was trying to get to Piper.” Aaron flexed his fingers, then gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, waiting for Sawyer’s response.
“Yeah, Aaron, there is a lot you should know, but I just don’t have the time to talk right now. I’m taking Lorna to dinner in a few hours and I’ve got a million things to do. Everyone here is safe; just get your ass back to town.”
Aaron could hear the worry in Sawyer’s voice and was sure that his friend wasn’t telling him everything. He knew that he was going to regret asking, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Sunny—is she okay?”
Sawyer sighed into his cell, sending up red flags. “Listen, man, I can’t say too much. I promised Sunny that I’d keep my mouth shut and she would fucking kill me if I tell you what’s going on with her. All I’m going to say is hightail your ass back to town and show up to my wedding tomorrow. It’s going to start around noon. And dude, don’t be an ass when you see Sunny; she’s been through enough.”
Aaron could feel his anger. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Sawyer barked out a laugh, into the phone. “I mean don’t act like that, when you see Sunny tomorrow. I’ve got to go, just don’t be late tomorrow and fuck up my wedding day.”
With that, Sawyer ended the call, leaving Aaron to analyze their conversation.
What the hell had happened to Sunny? Whoever was giving her a tough time was going to have to answer to him. God, he’d kick whomever ’s ass needed to be kicked, because picking on his Sunny was just not acceptable. Yeah, he was going to roll into town, take some names and kick some ass. He’d help Sunny fix everything and catch up with all his friends. He was due some downtime. He worked hard these past few months—he deserved some time with his buddies. After the New Year, he’d head back to California and try to forget about Sunny again, even though he knew from experience that was pretty much impossible to do.
Chapter Two

Christmas Day

Aaron was dog tired by the time he pulled up to Tag and Piper’s cabin. He knew that he was late and that he’d probably missed the wedding, but he was hoping to catch all his friends still there. He was so nervous about seeing Sunny, he felt like a teenage boy going on his first date. What the hell was wrong with him? Grown ass men didn’t get butterflies like giddy school girls. Fuck! He needed to get his shit together before heading in to see her.
He wasn’t going to have much time to pull it together—Tag, Sawyer and Lorna emerged from the house, their arms laden with gifts. He jumped out of his truck and jogged over to lend a hand.
“Hey, stranger!” Lorna piled her boxes into the trunk and pulled him in for a hug. He always loved the way she made everyone feel like family.
“Congratulations! I hear that you got hitched.” He wrapped an arm around Lorna, pulling her into his side, and offered his hand to Sawyer, who pulled him in for a quick man hug, complete with back slapping. Lorna giggled beside him.
“Yep, and we’re having a baby. I guess there will be three new Harvest Ridge residents come spring,” Lorna said. Tag cleared his throat and pulled Aaron in for a hug. Aaron didn’t miss the nervous looks that Sawyer and Lorna exchanged.
“Three babies?” Aaron looked between the three of them and he knew that they weren’t telling him something. “Who else is having a baby?”
Tag’s smile was the biggest he had ever seen on his friend’s face. “Pipe and I are having a baby, too.” Aaron howled, hugging his best friend again.
“That’s fantastic news, Tag. I’m so happy for you all.” He helped Lorna and Sawyer with the last of their packages, putting them into their car.
Lorna still seemed nervous. “Well, we’re off.” She went up on her tip toes to hug and kiss Tag and then Aaron on their cheeks. Sawyer shook both of their hands and ushered his new bride into the car. Aaron felt a pang of jealousy and tried to shake it off. He had no business having those desires.
“Well, might as well head in. Pipe will be glad to see you, and Sunny is still here.” Aaron froze at Tag’s words, not sure how he felt about seeing Sunny after waving the happy couple off.
“I need to grab something from my truck, man. I’ll be right behind you, just give me a minute.” Tag nodded and headed back into his cabin. Honestly, Aaron didn’t need anything from his truck, he just needed a minute. Seeing everyone again was stirring up emotions in him that he hadn’t planned on. He needed to get his head together before he faced Sunny.
He hid away in his truck for ten minutes before he decided to stop being a chicken. Sunny was just a woman that he had sex with- once. One fucking time, and that was all she was to him—just a one-night stand. He actually said those words out loud, laughing at how ridiculous they sounded. He couldn’t even fool himself; how would he be able to convince everyone else that he moved on? How would he be able to tell Sunny that she meant nothing to him when he felt so much?
Aaron slammed his truck door shut and made his way to the cabin. He always loved the way Tag’s cabin felt so warm and homey. Now that Tag had Piper and a baby on the way, it seemed like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Someday. Yeah, that thought was probably a lie too.
He pulled the front door open and stepped into the warm cabin to find Piper crowding Sunny, shouting her name. Both Tag and Pipe looked worried as Sunny started to fall. Aaron’s protective instincts kicked in and he darted over to Sunny and pulled her into his arms before her body hit the floor and God, she felt so good in his arms. He couldn’t get enough of her body snuggled up against his.
“Oh God, Aaron, I’m so sorry,” Piper croaked. He looked at Piper who was staring at Sunny’s swollen belly. How had he missed that, when he first walked in? Sunny was pregnant.
***
Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off Sunny as he cradled her against his chest. She was pregnant and, if he had to guess, the baby was his. Judging from the size of her belly, she was due any minute and that just about gutted him. Why hadn’t she told him about the baby—his baby? He should have been given the chance to be there for them both, but Sunny had never told him—never given him the option to do the right thing.
He carried her into Tag and Piper’s spare room and laid her on the bed. Piper was hot on his heels. He didn’t want to talk to her; he wanted to talk to Sunny. He needed to know if the baby was his, although he felt deep down in his gut that it was. He sat down next to Sunny and pulled her into his arms.
“Do you think we should call an ambulance?” Piper looked at her best friend, worried.
“I think she just fainted. She’ll be fine. I caught her before she hit the floor.” He rested his palm on her belly and felt the baby kick. He wanted to pull his hand away, feeling like he was intruding on something personal, but he was mesmerized by the little person inside her.
“Is the baby mine?” He didn’t mean to growl his question but—damn it—his emotions were in overdrive at the thought of his baby growing inside of Sunny.
“Aaron,” Piper stuttered, “I think that might be a question you should ask Sunny.” Aaron groaned, knowing that Piper’s answer was all he needed. The baby was his, but Piper didn’t want to be the one to tell him. Still, he needed to have a little chat with Sunny. Why would she keep his baby from him?
“Fine. Help me wake her up so that she can confirm that she’s been pregnant with my child for the past eight months and didn’t bother to tell me.” He saw Piper’s expression and the pity that she felt for him. He didn’t need her fucking pity—he needed to be told the truth.
“I’ll go and get some cold compresses and see if we have any smelling salts.” Piper left the room, leaving him alone with Sunny and his baby. God, she was beautiful. She always reminded him of a fairy or sprite. Her dark hair was cut short again. He liked her hair short; she called it her pixie cut and it would make him laugh, because that was exactly what she was—a pixie. It was almost impossible to believe that her tiny frame could carry such a big belly. At 4 feet 11, he couldn’t imagine her pregnancy had been an easy one—she was so little. He pulled her in closer, loving the feel of having her in his arms again.
They’d spent one perfect night together, during a freak April blizzard. He’d lost a piece of his heart that night and he’d left it with her the entire time he was gone. It appeared that he’d left a little more than a piece of his heart with Sunny. He wrapped his arms around her belly, resting his palms against the squirming baby inside of her womb. He loved the little kicks and tugs. He could see little feet and elbows poke Sunny’s skin and he was sure that the little one was going to rip her in two.
“Sunny, you need to wake up, honey.” He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent, loving the way her hair always smelled like peaches. Aaron rubbed her belly and couldn’t help but chuckle at how the baby seemed to follow his hands, kicking and stretching Sunny’s skin.
“Baby, you need to wake up and talk to me.” She stirred this time, almost turning over to face him. She sat up with a start, as if not realizing where she was.
Aaron pulled her back down onto his body. “Easy, honey. You fainted; you need to take it slowly.” Sunny snuggled into his hold, as if she was settling in to take another nap.
“Oh no! We talk before you sleep.” Sunny’s whole body stiffened in his arms. He rubbed his hand down her back and rested his other hand on her belly.
“Maybe we can talk later, you know—like when the wedding is over.” Sunny was stalling and he wasn’t about to let her off so easily.
“The wedding is over, and we can talk now. I think we should start with this little guy.” He palmed her belly and felt another kick. “Is he mine Sunny?”
She sighed against his chest. “It’s a she and yes. She is yours.” Sunny sobbed, and he tightened his arms around her. He always hated seeing Sunny cry; she was usually so happy. He liked to tease her, calling her ‘his little ray of sunshine’. She never seemed to mind the nickname but now, she was more like a storm cloud.
“Aw, Sunny, don’t cry baby.” He kissed the top of her head again and she stilled in his arms.
“No, Aaron, don’t.” She tried to free herself from his hold, but he didn’t allow that. He worried that if he let her go, she would disappear before he got his answers.
“You have no right to hold me or kiss my head. You need to stop touching me and calling me your little pet names. You left, Aaron, with no word to anyone but Tag. You just left.” Her tears ran freely down her cheeks and he didn’t know what to do.
“You could have sent word, Sunny. I would have helped you.” Aaron let her move to the other side of the bed, giving her some space. Every fiber of his being wanted to pull her back into his arms and never let her go, but wasn’t that why he left in the first place? Wanting Sunny was never his problem. He wasn’t good for her. Hell, he wasn’t good for anyone. He would be a horrible husband and probably a shitty father. But that didn’t make him want to walk away—this baby was his responsibility. He wanted to help Sunny and he wanted to try to be a father to their daughter. The thought of having a little girl left a lump in his throat; he had no clue what to do with a daughter.
“Sure, I could have forced Tag to tell you, but he didn’t want to get involved. And what would you have done when you found out? Would you have come back into town and taken care of me? Would you have taken care of this baby?” She barked out her laugh, as if mocking him with her words.
“Yes, I would have fucking taken care of you both, but I wasn’t given the chance. You kept our baby a secret from me. Why, Sunny? Were you afraid that I couldn’t handle being a father or that I’d be a shitty one?”
Sunny gasped as if he’d slapped her.
“Oh, Aaron, is that what you think? I know that you are going to be a fantastic dad. I just didn’t want to be your obligation. I was a one-night stand and then she happened.” Sunny rubbed her belly and, God, he wanted to touch her again. “You don’t have to worry about us, Aaron. We’ve done just fine without you and we will continue to be fine once you leave again. That’s the plan, right? You’re going to leave again?”
Aaron knew that Sunny was right. She was fine without him, but, damnit , he wanted her to need him just a little bit. He did plan on going back out to California. He was training future firefighters and at last, he felt important like he was finally fulfilling his purpose.
Finding Sunny pregnant with his child really threw a monkey wrench in his plans to go back to training firefighters in California. He knew that he couldn’t just leave his child and move on as if she didn’t exist; it was just not who he was. He wanted his little girl to have her father around; he at least owed Sunny that.
“No, Sunny. I’m not leaving again. I’ve decided to stick around, and the station said that they could add me back to the team.” It wasn’t a total lie—his captain called him just about every week to ask him to come back to Harvest Ridge. “So, I’m not going anywhere.”
She squinted at him as if she didn’t quite believe what he was saying.
“And when did you decide to stick around, Aaron? Was it before or after you found out I’m carrying your baby?” Geez, Sunny looked downright pissed. She was never like this before, crying one minute and angry as hell the next.
“I’m sticking around, isn’t that what you want to hear? Or do you still feel that I’m not good enough to be a father?” Her anger fizzled to pity, and he almost wanted her to be mad again. Angry Sunny, he could handle. The woman who sat before him now, pitying him, threw him off.
“You know what, do what you want to do. Just know that I don’t need you to stick around for our sake.” Sunny rubbed her huge belly, driving home her point. “We’ve gotten this far without your help and we’ll be fine for whatever life throws our way, won’t we baby girl?”
Aaron didn’t answer her—he wasn’t sure what to say. A part of him was jealous that she’d already bonded with their daughter, was even talking to her, and he hadn’t even known that she existed.
“God, you’re a pain in my ass, woman! I’m sticking around town. I’ll be here to help you with our daughter because I want to be a part of her life. You’re going to have to get used to sharing, honey.”
“Yeah, if that’s not the pot calling the kettle black! How dare you make this my fault—you left us.” Sunny shimmied down the bed, trying to find the end. It was almost comical watching her trying to maneuver with her giant belly. Aaron at least had the good sense not to laugh at her struggling to escape the bed.
“Fuck!” She laid back, practically on top of him, seeming to give up. She was breathing hard and he felt bad for thinking the whole scene funny. She was really having a hard time. He cupped her belly, rubbing what he assumed was his daughter’s foot.
“When are you due?” His voice was almost a whisper. If they were going to make this work, he was going to have to make some concessions. One being that he couldn’t bully his way through. Sunny wouldn’t go for him telling her what to do; she was always very independent.
“In three weeks, but the doctor says I may have to go early. I’m so tiny and she’s so … big.” He chuckled, rubbing Sunny’s belly, loving the feel of her in his arms.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t here, honey. I’d give anything to have been here to help you get ready for our baby. But, you are just as much to blame here as I am. You should have told me.”
She heaved out a sigh. “I know that, but it’s hard to talk to someone when they go out of their way to avoid you. After our night together, you treated me like I had the plague. You wouldn’t talk to me and you barely noticed my existence.” Sunny sobbed and he pulled her into his arms.
“I noticed, baby. I was just too busy being a stubborn asshole that I didn’t think about what my actions were doing to you. I’m sorry.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on his shirt, causing him to laugh again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled, let alone laughed. God, he’d missed her. If he didn’t play his cards right, she would never let him back in. He needed to tread carefully with his next question, otherwise he stood the chance of pissing her off again.
“Tag told me that you are back at home, living with your parents.” Sunny nodded against his chest. “I’m guessing it’s a little crowded, with all of your brothers and sisters.” Sunny had four brothers and three sisters. She’d moved away from home as soon as she turned eighteen. First, she and Piper had done some traveling, after high school. When they’d got back to Harvest Ridge, she’d taken over her grandmother’s bakery, and renamed it Sunny’s Buns.
“My mom convinced me to move back to the farm, that it would be best for me and the baby. She’s going to help with her while I have to work. I’ve also hired a new girl to help me with the baking in the morning. I’ve gotten too big to do everything around the bakery.”
“Well, it must be crowded at your parents’ house.” Aaron knew he was fishing but Sunny still hadn’t caught on.
“Yeah, the baby and I will share a room with Willa—she’s a heavy sleeper. What’s with all the questions?”
Aaron shrugged, going for nonchalant. “I’m just thinking out loud here, but I still have my loft and it does have three bedrooms. Why don’t you move in with me?”
Sunny squinted her eyes again, this time giving him warning that he’d pissed her off.
“No.”
She finally waddled to the end of the bed and stood. Still a little woozy, she put her hand to her head.
“Damnit, Sunny, sit down.” He pulled her back down to the bed. “I think you need to be checked out. When was the last time you ate?” Sunny didn’t answer at first—his growl echoed through the room.
“Fine, I ate breakfast but nothing since.” She crossed her arms over her chest and he couldn’t help but notice how much bigger her boobs were.
“Fuck, Sunny, you need to eat. It’s past dinner time.” She wanted to protest, but as soon as she opened her mouth, he sealed his lips over hers, pulling her into his body. And, Lord help him, she felt right in his arms. It was as if she completed a puzzle that he had been working on for years.
He broke away from their kiss, leaving them both breathless. “First, I’m going to feed you. Then, I’m taking you to the doctor to make sure that you and our baby are okay. After that, we are going to your parents’ house. I will help you pack up your stuff and I’m taking you back to my place. You need help with our baby? Well, here I am, honey.” He stood in front of her, his arms open wide.
“But, I can’t—”
He covered her mouth with his hand before she could get out another word.
“You can, and you will, honey. We are going to share custody of this baby and, for the time being, she will have both of her parents, under one roof, taking care of her. This baby is more important than our differences.” Sunny bit his fingers and he swore. The little minx was going to give him trouble at every turn.
“Fine,” she shouted. “I’ll move in with you under one condition.”
“Alright, let’s hear it.” He held his breath. Had she really agreed to move in with him?
“I get my own room and we are just two people raising our child together, strictly platonic.” He wanted to balk at her suggestion, but the look on her face made him reconsider. He knew that the chemistry between them was bigger than Sunny’s stubborn streak. He didn’t want to scare her off before she’d even packed her bags. He would move her into her own room and then they could see where things ended up. Judging from the kiss that they just shared, she wouldn’t be in her own room for very long. At least this way, he could help with the baby and be involved in both of their lives.
“Alright,” he agreed.
“Good.” She held out her hand to shake on it. He took her hand in his, noticing her shiver at his touch. “Just two friends living together, raising this baby.” She wrapped her arms around her belly, driving home her point.
“Sure, honey. If that’s the way you want it. We’re just two friends, living under the same roof, raising our baby.” Aaron smiled down at Sunny; he couldn’t help it. The thought of trying to tame someone as free-spirited as Sunshine Francis was going to be difficult, and he was always up for a challenge.

Killer Secrets

Killer Secrets
https://amzn.to/2QDnXjb
Zia Westfield
Chapter One

The quiet booth in the back suited police detective Jack Donahue’s mood perfectly. He didn’t want to be bothered with being polite or friendly. After days of running on just a couple of hours’ sleep, trying to catch the bastard who’d raped and killed two women in his town, he was ready to crash.
Jack stretched out his legs as he continued to nurse the drink in front of him. He’d stopped at O’Malley’s, the cop bar, to get a beer and unwind before heading home to a house too big and too empty for a man to completely relax. It was almost closing time. Only a few die-hards remained. The others probably had someone to go home to.
And damn, when had he become so maudlin?
He scrubbed a hand over his face and promised himself he’d take a vacation soon. Maybe he’d even go down and visit the folks in Florida like they’d been asking, though what he’d do in a retirement village surrounded by grey-haired seniors was beyond him.
The door of the bar tinkled, indicating a late arrival.
“We’re closing soon, Miss,” the bartender said. “Last call, people!”
“I won’t be long. I’m looking for someone.”
Jack observed her scanning the bar, her gaze leaping from one late-night straggler to another. Judging from the tense way she held herself, he didn’t think she was looking for a lover. She appeared determined, and he would’ve felt sorry for whichever bastard she had in her sights, if he weren’t sure he was the bastard in question.
He slouched lower in his seat and went back to contemplating a vacation among the senior set.
The sound of heels clicking on the tile told him it was a lost cause. The woman headed purposefully in his direction, a slight sway to her step that brought focus to a shapely pair of hips.
Well, hell.
They’d never officially met, but the nosy reporter had been pointed out to him enough times that he recognized her.
He forced his eyes up, only to have his gaze collide with a pair of emerald green orbs. He felt like he’d been sucker-punched. His fingers tightened around his glass.
It’s the alcohol talking, Donahue. Get a grip.
She stopped next to his booth and inclined her head. “Jack Donahue? I’m Gemma Fitzgibbons, mind if I sit?” She was already sliding into the bench seat opposite him.
Up close he saw the slight redness in her eyes, as if she’d been putting in too many hours working, like him. It bothered him. She studied him back and her forehead crinkled. He wanted to reach across and smooth out the lines.
It was such a bizarre reaction to someone he’d purposely avoided that he leaned back in the seat, trying to put a little more distance between them.
“I know who you are, Ms. Fitzgibbons.”
“Really?” She seemed to brighten at that, but then, like a match, the flame went out. “Then why haven’t you returned my calls or answered my emails?”
“Because I know who you are and I don’t want to meet you. I don’t talk to reporters.” Up close, she really wasn’t all that bad. Okay, she was actually kind of cute with those freckles sprinkled across her nose and those short reddish curls. But she was a reporter, which meant that as soon as she opened her mouth she’d probably spoil the impression. “Look, I’m beat and as soon as I finish this last swallow, I’m out of here. Now, if you’re offering up some stress relief, I’ll be happy to take you up on it another time.” He was being crude and he knew it, but the sizzling energy surrounding this woman made all his senses go haywire, which caused alarm bells in his head to go off.
“Sorry to refuse such a gentlemanly offer.” The sarcasm dripped from each syllable, enough that he almost apologized for being an ass.
She dug into the huge satchel she’d plopped down beside her and pulled out an envelope. She tossed it on the table. “Go on. Take a look.”
If she’d acted smug or obnoxious, he’d have shoved the envelope back at her. Instead he left it where it was and chose to study her. Her lips pursed together as if she were holding words inside, a situation he thought went against her nature. Emotions flitted across her face and curiosity shone in her eyes. Yet she wore her intensity the way he wore the badge clipped to his belt, like it was an integral part of her.
He didn’t think he was going to like what was in that envelope and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be leaving in the next ten seconds like he wanted.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Surprise lit her eyes, before she slowly nodded her head. “I could use a soda, anything diet.”
“O’Malley, got anything diet on hand?” Jack called out.
“Be right up.”
Jack rotated his glass with one hand while he stretched his other arm over the back of the booth. “So, Gemma Fitzgibbons, what do you want?”
“You know I’m a reporter with the Carville Gazette, right?” Since O’Malley chose that moment to deliver her drink, she waited until he moved away from the table. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the paper, Detective Donahue, given the number of times you’ve been in it.” She took a sip from her cola and eyed him over the top of her glass.
“Like I said, I know who you are and I don’t do interviews.” Even his Captain knew better than to stick him in front of a bunch of press vultures.
“I know. Your feelings for my profession have been made crystal clear on more than one occasion.” She cocked her head to the side, a frown working its way across her forehead. “You know you aren’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Someone more arrogant, more full of himself. Someone hung up on the power of the badge.”
“What makes you think I’m not?” He didn’t know why he was prolonging the conversation. He should just get up and leave. He had no use for reporters, and though Gemma Fitzgibbons almost tempted him enough to rethink that, his scars were fresh enough that simply sitting across from her made his shoulder blades itch.
“Call it reporter intuition, I don’t know. I don’t like contradictions and you’re a contradiction. Open the envelope, detective.”
Reluctantly, Jack reached for the envelope and pulled it closer. He let it remain there unopened and tapped the table with his fingers as he examined his companion carefully. She seemed to be on her last nerve and the tension she generated suggested she wasn’t as comfortable with this situation as she pretended to be. Now why was that?
There were no markings on the envelope, nothing to indicate where it came from or what was inside. Cursing the bad luck that had led him to O’Malley’s for a drink tonight, he told himself to get over it and lifted the flap that had been tucked in rather than sealed. He tipped the envelope so that the contents spilled out across the table.
Photos landed on the table surface. Jack picked one up and studied the grainy dark image. A man who looked a hell of a lot like him passed a white substance to a greasy-looking leather-clad bum. It had every appearance of a drug buy.
Each photo he fingered showed his look-alike selling drugs to at least three different customers.
As the images coalesced in his mind, fury rose up like a skyrocket. “What the hell kind of stunt are you pulling, Ms. Fitzgibbons?”
“Are you denying the man in the picture is you?”
“Damn right, I’m denying it.” He lifted one of the photos. They had to have been doctored in some way. With technology nowadays, anything was possible. He’d need a professional to analyze them.
“How can you deny it when you’re right there in each frame?”
He leaned forward getting as much in her face as he could with the table between them. “I’m denying it because it’s a setup, that’s why. I never posed for these photos or was in whatever dive that’s pictured here. If you bought these off of someone, you’ve been had.” She’d been a dupe. He’d buy that. But it still burned his gut that someone was trying to implicate him in a crime.
Gemma tapped a nail on one picture. “You’re exchanging drugs for cash in this one with a woman, and again in this one with a man. You’re a homicide detective and my sources say you aren’t involved in narcotics busts. How do you explain these scenes?”
“I don’t have to. I know they’re fakes. Somebody sold you a bill of goods, lady. Get over it. And I suggest you sharpen those reporter instincts of yours.”
He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and yanked out some bills, which he tossed on the table. He made to slide out of the booth when her next words made him pause.
“I took those pictures.” She gripped one photo of him standing with a lowlife scum. The lighting was dim and his face was in profile. The quality was a bit grainy as if from a cell phone rather than a regular digital camera. Even so, the man in the picture looked a lot like him, except it damn well wasn’t. “I was chasing down another story when I saw you.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I was curious. I started snapping shots and you can see what I got.”
Fury burned in his gut. His father had been branded a dirty cop and it had shattered him. It hadn’t mattered that it wasn't true. The media had crucified him. Jack had walked a straight path from day one of putting on his blues. He'd lived up to the honor of the badge, but this woman in front of him, this reporter, could destroy it all so easily. Once the accusation was out there in the world, people would believe what they wanted to believe and he'd never completely regain his credibility.
“I see you got crap. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but find some other sap to try it on. If I see even one of those photos in the paper, I will sue you for libel six ways to Sunday.”
This time he slid out of the seat and stood towering over her.
“I’d like to say it was a pleasure meeting you, but it wasn’t.” He took two steps before halting and turning back. “You know, trying to blackmail a cop is always a bad idea. It might get you arrested or something worse.”
Two spots of color dotted her cheeks and anger flashed back at him in those pretty green eyes. Too bad she was a reporter. Too bad she’d taken a tiger by its tail.
“Are you threatening me, detective?”
“Simply stating facts.” He pivoted and walked away before anger got the better of him and he said or did something stupid.
Damn shame Ms. Fitzgibbons was a reporter. When you swam with sharks, you either got eaten or you became an even bigger predator.
Ms. Fitzgibbons had obviously reached that same conclusion and had made her choice.
Well, he wasn’t anybody’s prey and if the pretty reporter didn’t watch out, she just might find herself the one being hunted.
***
“Well, that went swimmingly,” Gemma muttered as she jabbed the straw into her soda. She eyed the photos with irritation. What had she expected? A full confession?
Admit it. She’d screwed up. She’d thought…what exactly had she thought? That he’d try and make a deal to get her to suppress the photos?
Yeah, that was exactly what she’d thought. Oh, she’d known that Jack Donahue had a reputation for being squeaky clean. Not surprising when the shadow from his dad’s dismissal from the department hung over him daily. She’d talked to enough different cops on the force to know that. They respected his closure rate, but she sensed they didn’t quite trust him.
Which must suck for him.
She’d been more than curious about the whispers and rumors that continued to swirl around the infamous Jack Donahue.
She’d wanted to know if he could be trusted because, as far as she could tell, somebody had pulled her into a game with Jack Donahue. But would he be an ally or an enemy? The anonymous note she received a few days ago hinted that Donahue would be a victim. That note rested in her locked bottom desk drawer while she determined what to do about it.
Then she’d stumbled on that photo op of Detective Donahue or his doppelganger selling drugs. He didn’t appear the victim anymore and he certainly didn’t come across like someone who needed protection. He might dismiss the photos, but she couldn’t. She had taken them. She had no use for drug dealers. Yet, she’d been a reporter long enough to get a good read on people. Jack Donahue’s voice rang true with the indignation and anger of an innocent man. Either he was a great actor, and she wouldn’t dismiss that possibility, or someone was setting him up and her, too.
But to what purpose? What exactly was going on?
If Jack was an innocent man, he deserved to know about the note, which meant that she had to decide whether to confide in him or not. But not tonight. Not while the verdict was still out on the man.
She finished off the last of her drink and checked her watch. Darn. Darn. Darn. She was way later than she’d expected to be. Of course, she’d had to visit a few bars before tracking Detective Jack Donahue to this one. Even so, she’d promised Dana she’d try to be home earlier.
She shoved the photos back into the envelope and stuffed them back into her bag. Sliding out of the booth, she hoisted the bag onto her left shoulder and dug her keys out. She couldn’t count on bad guys knowing this was a cop bar. A single woman couldn’t be too careful, which was why she carried her keys in her right hand and had a small bottle of pepper spray within reach of her left.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked the bartender.
“Detective Donahue paid for it.”
“Right. Uh, thanks.” She’d pay the detective back when she saw him. He might think this was over, but it was far from it.
Outside the bar, she paused and scanned the street in both directions. Streetlights illuminated the area in small puddles. As far as she could tell, nothing moved. The buildings had locked up for the night.
With her keys fisted in her hand and her other hand within reach of the pepper spray, she headed for her car in the lot. There were a couple of other cars still parked. She supposed one belonged to the bartender and the others to the remaining customers.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached her aging sedan. She’d had the four door since college and really wanted to trade it in for something better, but it always came down to money—never enough.
And if she didn’t come up with a hot story to appease her editor, she’d be in the unemployment line. She needed to keep her job and she needed to nail this story. Detective Donahue was a highly decorated cop with a sterling reputation. But she’d seen him with her own eyes dealing drugs. Dirty cop? Undercover operation?
She blew out a frustrated breath.
She hadn’t been lying. She hated contradictions. Or rather, she couldn’t leave them alone because the heart of a contradiction was often the key to a killer story.
And she knew she was on the trail of one now. She simply had to dig and dig until she got her answers.
She unlocked her car door, got in and locked it, laying her bag on the passenger seat. She belted up, then stuck the key in the ignition.
The engine turned over…and nothing.
She tried again. Same result.
“Not tonight. Come on.” She clutched the steering wheel as she turned the key again, willing the old car to cooperate. She needed her wheels. What she didn’t need was another bill.
A knock on her side window caused her to let out a yelp. She grabbed for her bag. Where was that pepper spray?
The knocking sounded again and she thought she heard her name.
Slowly she turned her head, the pepper spray firmly held in her right hand. Her breath sawed in and out, but her eyes cleared enough for her to see a familiar face peering down at her.
“Damn it, Donahue!” She unlatched her belt and thrust the door open.
“Hey, watch it!”
“You scared me to death!” Gemma climbed out and nearly whacked him with the pepper spray, except he twisted it out of her hand, taking it from her.
“Hey, give that back!”
“So, you can dose me with it? Forget it?”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Why are you here?”
He leaned in until he was only inches from her. His piercing blue eyes drilled her, a glare she made out despite the combined weak lighting of her car’s indoor light and the one lamp at the edge of the parking lot. Irritation wafted off of him stronger than alcohol fumes on a town drunk and he towered over her by a few inches. Even so, she didn’t feel intimidated in the least. Fact was, she was glad he was around.
Which was dangerous and unacceptable. She relied on herself. Period.
“I’m here because I hadn’t left yet. I mistakenly thought I should make sure you made it to your car safely. Clearly, I’m not needed.” He turned and waved a hand. “See you!”
“Wait!” She hustled after him and latched onto his arm. Trying to stop him was like trying to stop a locomotive. “Please!”
Ah, that did it. He came to a halt, but from his expression, she didn’t think he was going to make it easy on her.
“I seem to be having car trouble. Do you think you could help me, Detective?”
He pursed his lips together, seeming to think about it. “You know,” he finally said, “I told myself I was done with you.”
“We can’t always be right.”
“Sarcasm is not going to help you.”
“Right. Got it. You wanted to be rid of me. Problem is I’ve got a job to do. I can’t not pursue a story.”
“Try.”
That was it. One word. Like that was the answer. “Fine. Let’s agree for the moment to table this discussion.” She gently turned him and tugged him towards her car. “I could really use some help getting my car started.”
“Pop the hood and let me see what I can do.” While she did that, her would-be rescuer went back to his car for a flashlight, but not before tossing her the can of pepper spray and warning her to put it away. When he returned, Gemma took the flashlight from him so that he could poke around under the hood. He took the light from her and asked her to turn on the ignition.
After three failed attempts, Detective Donahue slammed the hood down. He swiped his hands together a few times and came towards her. “I’ll give you a lift. Leave your car here and you can have a tow service pick it up tomorrow.”
Gemma squeezed her eyes shut, thinking about the huge bill a tow and a repair would cost her. She opened her eyes and nodded.
“Let me get my things.” He held the door open for her while she reached inside and dragged her bag out. She didn’t keep anything else of value inside.
They closed and locked her car and headed back to his in silence. His longer strides quickly outpaced her shorter ones and she found herself staring at that straight back, questions crowding her mind.
The pictures burning a hole in her purse didn’t match up with the guy in front of her.
Jack seemed like a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. He didn’t try to lay on the charm. Far from it. Yet, when he’d had every reason to walk away and stay away from her, he’d come to her rescue. She didn’t sense any hidden agenda in doing it either, other than an innate sense of honor that required him to respond to a person in need.
Had she been setup to take those photos? But how could that be? She might accept the photos had been altered if she hadn’t been the one behind the camera. The lighting had been bad and she hadn’t been able to get close, but the guy she’d seen in the club sure looked like the guy in front of her opening the door to his SUV.
Questions still whirling in her brain, she climbed in and settled herself in the comfortable interior. Definitely several classes above her ride.
She waited patiently, or as patiently as she could, for him to buckle up.
“Go ahead and spit it out before you self-combust or something.” He started the engine and turned on the vehicle’s headlights. Slowly, he backed out of the parking space and made for the exit.
“Detective Donahue—”
“Jack.”
“What?”
“I’ll probably regret this, but call me Jack.” He pulled out of the lot and onto the silent street.
“Thank you, Jack. Call me Gemma.” She smiled, which was silly since all they’d done was exchange names, but she couldn’t help it. “By any chance, Jack, do you have a twin brother?”
She twisted in her seat to better see his reaction. She thought his lip twitched, but she couldn’t be sure.
“No twin. Just me.”
She sat quietly and considered and discarded other theories. She opened her mouth to speak; only he beat her to it. “And no,” he said, “I was not adopted. I look like my dad and I’m the spitting image of my grandfather. Nice try, though.”
She faced the windshield with a tiny huff, wanting him to note her displeasure. He could work with her on this. It wouldn’t kill him.
The tones of a funeral dirge trilled from within her bag. Gemma reached in for her cell phone.
“You use a funeral melody for your ring tone?”
“It suits my mood right now.” With her job on the line and a major loan payment due, a funeral dirge captured her feelings perfectly. She sure as molasses wasn’t going to explain it to him.
She hit the answer button. “Aunt Sylvie, everything okay?”
“Fine, dear. I’m going to bed. Dana was a little anxious when you didn’t come home like you promised.” There was no reproof in her aunt’s words, but Gemma felt the guilt anyway. While she didn’t regret stepping up and taking on guardianship of her niece, she still hadn’t successfully managed the work-family balance. Without Aunt Sylvie’s help, Gemma would have had a rough time of it.
“I’m sorry,” Gemma said, clutching the phone tighter. “I really meant to be back like I said. I got caught up in a story.”
“I understand, and I tried to explain to Dana, but you know how it is.”
“Yeah, I know.” Her four-year old niece was finally emerging from the fragile shell she’d retreated into after surviving the wreck that had taken her mom, Gemma’s sister, and her grandmother, Gemma’s mom. Gemma didn’t want to do anything that might hurt Dana’s recovery from the trauma. “I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow.”
“You’re doing your best, Gemma. We all are. Don’t beat yourself up for not being perfect.”
A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it down. She didn’t know if she was trying to be “perfect” as her aunt said. What she did know is that Dana had suffered enough in her short life and Gemma didn’t want to add further disappointments to the list. “Thanks, Aunt Sylvie. I should be home soon.”
“Good night, Gemma.”
“Good night.”
She hit the end button and dropped the phone back in her bag. The silence of the vehicle wrapped around her, making it impossible to drown out the doubts and worries that plagued her when it came to doing the right thing for her family.
Beside her, Jack cleared his throat. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” She turned her head, not wanting to invite further conversation. Plus, she needed to get herself under control. She could feel the tears pricking her eyelids and that was unacceptable.
Her aunt said she was doing her best. Sometimes she thought so; other times she thought she was failing everybody around her. If she lost her job, if she couldn’t make the next mortgage payment…she could drown in the what if’s if she let them.
She had to focus on Dana, who needed her. She couldn’t let her niece down.
For a while they traveled in silence until Jack broke it. “Where did you take those pictures?”
So, he wanted to talk about the contents of the envelope. Finally. “At the Pink Kitty.”
“The stripper bar?” Disbelief colored his voice. “What were you doing there?”
“Talking to a witness.” She didn’t know why she sounded defensive, and firmed her voice. “I have a job to do, too.” And getting the inside track on the hottest story in the local press would go a long ways to assuring she kept her job.
“Wait a minute.” He slapped his palm against the steering wheel. “The Pink Kitty is adjacent to the Stardust Club where—”
She nodded. “Where a waitress was raped and murdered and her body dumped in the woods behind that new estate development.” The police had been cagey with the details, but she was used to digging up dirt. It was a matter of asking the right questions of the right people.
“I was talking to one of the strippers about a guy she’d seen with the waitress when you walked in and sat at a table in the back. I got what I needed from her and managed to get a few shots of you selling drugs.”
Jack slammed on the brakes, throwing her against the seatbelt.
“Hey! Watch it!”
“For the last time, you didn’t photograph me selling drugs. I have never sold drugs.” He turned in his seat, seeming oblivious to the fact that they were stopped in the middle of the street. “Wait a minute. She actually said she saw the waitress with a man? Did she give a description?” he demanded, excitement coloring his voice.
“Of a sort. Mostly she noticed his car.”
“What’s her name?”
“If I tell you that are you going to let me have this story?”
“Don’t you ever give it a rest?”
“Not when it’s this important.” Not only did she have to keep her job, a woman had died. She deserved justice and she deserved for the public to know her as a human being and not just a faceless statistic.
“The hell with it!” Jack turned the wheel and did a U-turn in the middle of the street.
“Where are you going? My house is that way!”
“To the Pink Kitty to talk to a stripper.”
Chapter Two

There wasn’t anything cute or fuzzy about the Pink Kitty. It sat on the edge of a neighborhood noted for drug busts and drive by shootings. Not much farther away stood the Stardust Club, the latest hot spot. Give it a few months and it would probably go broke and some other club would take its place.
He’d been of two minds about bringing Gemma along, but she’d found the witness when his own men hadn’t. She’d also gotten the woman to talk.
He’d have to waste time shaking a lot of trees to find the right person. He might as well take advantage of the legwork Gemma had already done.
Just in front of the entrance, Gemma caught the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him to a halt.
“Let me take the lead.” She brushed past him and pulled open the door, not giving him a chance to respond.
He wasn’t sure what to make of her. It’d been a long time since a woman, reporter or not, had captivated him. And as irritated as Gemma made him, he was honest enough to admit that she fascinated him at the same time.
But she was a reporter, for God’s sake.
It had to be lack of sleep and a massive caseload, because even thinking about getting involved with a reporter was crazy.
But she sure knew how to fill out a pantsuit, he acknowledged as he followed her into the club, his gaze tracing the curve of her heart-shaped bottom. He didn’t have time for more of a perusal since they were met by a hulking bouncer who sat on a stool just inside the doorway.
“You back again?” he looked pointedly at Gemma. Then he caught sight of Jack and jerked his thumb at him. “Why you hooking up with this loser? He’s bad news, girlie.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest, except the words couldn’t get past his throat, but he closed it when he felt a heel dig into his foot.
“Never mind him, Earl. Is Candy working tonight?”
“You’ll have to wait. She’s on stage.”
“Thanks, Earl.” Gemma strode onwards like she was used to waltzing into stripper clubs on a nightly basis.
Jack attempted to follow her, but a big beefy hand on his chest stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going? Twenty bucks cover.”
“Here’s my cover.” He took out his badge and flipped it open. “Police business.”
“What the hell? You’re a cop?” Earl crossed his big brawny arms over his chest and regarded Jack with disgust. “Girlie better watch out. You’re bad news.”
Jack didn’t bother responding. Girlie was certainly going to get an earful about hanging out with this crowd.
He walked through an archway into a large smoky room with small round tables scattered in a U-pattern around a stage that jutted out from the wall directly into the audience.
That wasn’t the only thing jutting. He eyed a thirty-something bleached blonde wearing a G-string and a boa jiggle her way across the stage. Whistles and clapping from a bunch of drunken men accompanied her performance.
He spied Gemma at the bar chatting it up with a guy in a suit and headed in her direction. She smiled and the power of it stole his breath. It didn’t appear to have the same effect on the guy talking to her, though. He lurched off the bar stool, a horrified look on his face and scuttled away.
“I see you’re making friends. What’d you say?”
Gemma shrugged as she accepted a soda from the bartender. “He asked if I was going to be on stage soon. I told him I was a reporter working on a story.” She took a sip and her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think it was when I asked him if I could interview him on middle-aged men suffering from low self-esteem and seeking validation through sex shows that he remembered another appointment.”
Jack chuckled and sat on the vacated stool.
The bartender leaned on the bar, a towel thrown over his shoulder. He wore an open neck black button down shirt with a gold chain and a gold stud in his ear. “Can I get you your usual?” He was talking to Jack, but his eyes were on Gemma, which ticked Jack off for some reason.
“I don’t have a usual. I’ll take a plain soda water.”
The bartender’s gaze flicked towards him before lowering, and then he walked away to fill the order.
Once Jack had his drink in hand, he took a few healthy swallows as he observed the various audience members. They only had eyes for the stage, judging from the lewd shouts and whistles. “Candy seems to be heading for the grand finale.” About time. Maybe he was an oddity, but he much preferred a private viewing provided by the woman in his life rather than this group affair.
As soon as Candy left the stage, he was off the stool and moving towards the dressing rooms. He heard a set of heels chasing after him.
When he reached a door with a faded star and the word RE SING ROOM, he knocked and entered.
Three women in various stages of undress greeted him. He weaved his way around them and a rack filled with lingerie to get to Candy, who sat in a see-through robe at the last dressing table. She was peering into the mirror and dabbing at her cheeks with a tissue.
He pushed open his jacket to make his badge more visible then Gemma barreled right past him.
“Candy, we need to talk.”
She flicked a quick look at Gemma in the mirror, but when she caught sight of him, her gaze slid away. “Look, honey, you caught me at a bad time. I gotta get home. Just forget about what we talked about the other day.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Jack interjected, determined to get answers from the first witness to be found. “Detective Jack Donahue, Carville PD. I have a few questions for you.”
Candy’s mouth twisted and her fingers tightened around the tissue in her hand. “Ah, hell, sugar, why’d you have to sic the cops on me?”
“I’m sorry, Candy. Another woman is dead. She was just like you, trying to make a living, doing the best she could to survive.” Gemma’s voice rang with a tone that he didn’t generally attribute to reporters; honesty.
He could almost believe her. Almost. Because, in the end, it always came down to the story. Even so, it had an effect on Candy, judging from the way she nibbled on her bottom lip and the crease that developed between her eyebrows.
“Like I told you, I didn’t see much.”
“Tell me what you saw, please. Sometimes a snippet of information is all we need to break a case wide open.” Reluctant witnesses were always tricky to handle. They had reasons for not wanting to get involved. It was a case of finding what would push them in the right direction. The Candys of the world weren’t going to be bought by public duty. They were all about survival. “This guy is going to kill again. He’s going to watch and wait, and when he gets another woman in a vulnerable position, he’ll strike. We don’t know if he’s choosing single women who work in bars, or women in this particular neighborhood, or if he has a preference for brunettes or blondes.” At that Candy reached up to touch her blonde-from-the-bottle hair. “He needs to be stopped.”
Candy’s fingers moved agitatedly over the dressing table, moving makeup and perfume bottles around. She was weighing his words. When her shoulders sagged suddenly, he knew she’d decided to talk.
“All right, I’ll tell you what I saw, but you’ve got to keep my name out of it! I don’t want this creep after me.” Her face pleaded to both of them.
“I’m a cop. The press won’t hear it from me, but…” he inclined his head towards Gemma.
“I mentioned a witness, but no names. No identifying information and I did not mention the Pink Kitty.” She rocked on her feet and two bright red spots appeared in her cheeks. “It’ll be in the morning papers.”
He would’ve laid into her, but Candy began talking, her hands idly moving over the perfume bottles.
“I didn’t see much. Really. I went out back to have a cigarette and clear my head. It was a busy night and I wanted some space, you know? I heard a door open and then voices, and giggling. Figured someone was getting it on behind the club. Not my deal.” She dragged over a rumpled pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. She lit it and took a deep drag.
Clearly Candy viewed the state’s no smoking ban in restaurants and bars as optional. But that wasn’t his job.
“Can you describe the woman or man for the detective?” Gemma asked.
The woman didn’t know when to stop. She might’ve found him a witness, but this was his investigation and he wasn’t about to let it be screwed up by a reporter of all people. Jack held up one finger. “Could you give us a moment, Ms…?”
“Randolph,” Candy supplied. “But everybody just calls me Candy.”
“Thank you.” Jack cupped Gemma’s elbow and, ignoring the surprised look on her face, gently tugged her a few steps away, which was the most space he could get in the small dressing room. Keeping his voice down, he made his point. “I’m the detective. Let me do my job.”
She fisted her hands on her hips and stuck her chin out mulishly. “Fine, as long as you let me do mine.”
“I better not see one word of what she says in that rag of yours.”
“Why you…”
Jack pivoted while she was in mid-sentence to return to Candy, who was stubbing out one cigarette and already lighting another. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out several pictures.
“Candy, do you recognize any of these women?” He laid the photos on the dressing table in front of her.
She tapped one photo. “This woman was on TV. The first victim. I’ve never seen her.” She studied the other pictures, her index finger finally resting on another photo. “This one looks like the woman I saw. She’s the second victim, isn’t she? Who are the others? Has this freak killed all these women, too?” Her face paled beneath the make- up.
Gemma had come up beside him, her lips pressed together tightly. At least she was quiet.
Except he spoke too soon.
“Yes, that’s the second victim. There are only two victims that we know of so far. Isn’t that right, detective?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Jack scooped up the photos and returned them to his pocket. “What can you tell me about the woman in the second picture?”
“She must’ve come out the back door of the club next door. She was laughing and looking up at the guy she was hanging on to. I only got a look at her face because she reached back to brush something off her shoulder. The man had his back to me. About your height and build. Sharp dresser.” She cocked her head and stared at the stream of smoke, then waved her cigarette as if to make a point. “Not like you, though,” she said, jabbing her cigarette in his direction. “You probably clean up real good, but I bet you wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of chinos and a polo shirt.”
“Was that what the guy was wearing?” Jack asked.
“Maybe. Can’t say for sure. It was dark. He did have on a leather jacket. Not as beat up as yours, though.” She frowned in concentration. “There’s something else, but I can’t remember. Anyway, they got into a dark blue or black Ford Mustang and left. That’s it.”
“Are you sure about the car?”
Candy ground her cigarette into an already overflowing ashtray. “I’m sure. My daddy owned a garage. Guess you could say it’s in the blood.” She sighed and glanced in the mirror, only to slide her eyes away. “Couldn’t wait to shake the dust off my feet and make something of myself.”
Jack took her over each point again, asking questions to clarify details. He arranged a time for her to come down to the station to give a statement and then told her they would get out of her way.
Outside the dressing room, Jack turned right, making his way towards the Emergency door at the back. According to Candy, she’d been in the alley when she’d caught sight of the victim with a man. He needed to get a look at the spot and confirm her version of events. One of the reasons he had the highest closure rate in the department was because he paid attention to the details.
On the right side of the short hallway, he passed a closed door marked with the word ‘Office’. On the left side, he glimpsed an open room with boxes stacked high. Probably where they kept their liquor. Behind him he heard Gemma’s hurried steps on the wood floor.
“What exactly are you looking for?” she asked.
“Just getting a feel for the place.” He opened the back door, noting there was no light to illuminate the alley. Stepping out the door, he noted empty crates stacked up on either side of the entry. The fire code inspector would love this. Jack had to actually move several feet into the alley to see the back door of the Stardust Club across the way.
“Candy told me she was standing right over here.”
Jack turned to see Gemma had followed him outside. She pointed to a spot tucked between the stacks. “It was windy and there was a light rain, so she wanted to stay under this bit of overhang if she could.”
“She wouldn’t have been able to see anything until they got to the car. The back door is blocked from that angle.” Jack measured the distance with his eye. The dark combined with the light rain would have obscured Candy’s sight, except for the fact that the security light outside the club seemed to be working. If the light had been on, a fact he’d confirm, even with the light drizzle, Candy could have seen what she claimed.
“We’re done. I’m going to set things in motion and take you home.”
He’d been prepared for Gemma to protest when the door opened and the bartender stepped out.
“Lenny,” Gemma exclaimed, “you startled me.”
“Saw you go out the back door. Thought I’d check on you. Can’t be too careful these days.” He pulled a cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and lit up. “Girl over at that club bought it recently.”
“What do you know about that girl?” Jack interjected himself into the conversation.
Lenny eyed him with blatant dislike. Funny, when they’d only just met. “Don’t know anything.” He took another pull from his cigarette. “I get off work in half an hour. I can give you a ride home if you need one.” He was clearly talking to Gemma, and Jack was certain he wasn’t included in the invitation.
“Thanks, Lenny. I appreciate the offer, but he brought me and I really should go back with him.” She smiled, probably to soften the sting of her rejection. The woman needed a keeper. If he’d ever seen a wannabe stalker, this guy would qualify. As it was, he was going on Jack’s list of suspects. This alley obviously got way more traffic than he and the other detectives had realized.
Lenny tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and rubbed it out with his shoe. “You change your mind, you know where to find me.” He pulled the back door open and disappeared inside.
“Real likeable fellow.” Jack made his sarcasm clear. “So how’d you two become such buddies.”
“We’re not buddies, but I spent a while in the Pink Kitty, talking to as many people as I could, hoping somebody might’ve noticed something when they arrived or left. A lot of the customers wouldn’t talk to me when they realized I was a reporter. I almost got kicked out, but Lenny promised to keep an eye on me and I promised to be discreet.”
She didn’t know when to quit. He could admire that quality even as it ticked him off. He didn’t want a reporter on his case. “Let’s go.”
“Does this mean you’ll give me an exclusive interview on the investigation?”
“No, it doesn’t. It means I’m going to follow through with my original intention and get you out of my hair. We are not partners on this investigation. We’re not colleagues. We are…we are….”
She stared up at him with those green eyes and those copper curls framing her face and his train of thought completely derailed.
“What? Enemies?” She stepped in, one hand reaching out to latch on to his jacket. “I don’t think so.” Her other hand came up to smooth the leather over his heart. “Not when we both want to catch the guy who did this. So, what exactly are we, Jack?”
“Screwed,” he managed to get out as he snaked an arm around her waist and yanked her to him. His mouth came down on hers hard. He didn’t know why it as so important that he taste her, only that it was. She’d been slipping her way under his skin all night, driving him crazy with irritation or driving him crazy with lust. And the line between the two was pretty thin.
He should’ve walked away and never looked back when he’d exited O’Malley’s Bar. Instead, his conscience had nagged him into waiting to make sure she got into her car okay. Face it, if he hadn’t, she would’ve been stuck in that parking lot by herself, a target for any lowlife on the prowl, which only made him angrier.
As these thoughts ran through his head, he poured them into his kiss. Punishing her. Punishing himself for being attracted when he didn’t want to be.
The woman was all wrong for him.
He peeled his lips away, though he still held her snug against him. His chest felt like a belt three sizes too tight had been strapped around it and it hurt to breathe. Why did she have this effect on him? A reporter!
“What was that for?” she asked.
He forced his hands down and put a little distance between them. “When I have an answer, you’ll be the first to know.” He yanked open the back door to the strip joint and waited for her to enter. “I’ll tell you one thing, though, it won’t happen again.
She sailed past him and he must have heard wrong because he’d swear as she walked inside she muttered, “What a shame.”
***
It was after two in the morning, by the time Jack pulled up in front of her house. He’d shut down all attempts at conversation, so the ride had been rather lopsided in the talking department, with her doing all of it.
“You going to check out the lead Candy gave you on the Mustang?” She didn’t expect an answer, but she wouldn’t be a reporter if she didn’t keep trying to pry answers out of the guy.
“You really don’t give up, do you?” Exasperation peppered each syllable. “Good-bye Ms. Fitzgibbons.”
“This isn’t over. We are going to talk,” she insisted as she popped the door open.
“We have nothing to talk about.” He looked utterly bored and he began tapping the steering wheel with both thumbs as if he were in a hurry. She wanted to kick him.
“Sure we do,” she said in her most saccharine tone. “We have to talk about that kiss.”
She slammed the door on the look of horror on his face and marched up the drive to her front door. As soon as she slipped inside, she heard his car drive away.
Irritating man.
She’d barely taken a few steps when a voice sounded from the upper landing. “Aunt Gemma.”
“Dana, what are you doing up? It’s late and you should be in bed.” Gemma flipped on the light switch, which bathed the stairs in a soft glow. Her five-year-old niece stood at the top, behind the security gate.
“I want something to drink. I’m thirsty.” Dana rubbed her eyes with both her knuckles and then let out a big yawn.
“I think you really need to get in bed, young lady.” Gemma went up the stairs and met her niece at the top. She released the security gate and stepped through, locking it once she was past the barrier.
Dana wore only a nightgown, her bare feet peeking out from below the hem. She rubbed her eyes again and wiped at her nose with her knuckles. “I can’t sleep. I see Mommy.”
Her heart might as well have stopped. Briefly she recalled that moment when she arrived at the hospital only to learn her sister and mom hadn’t made it, the grief so raw it tore up her insides so that each breath became an endurance of pain.
“Aw, honey, come here.” Gemma gathered the little girl into her arms and hugged her. Her sister had been a single mom who’d tried so hard to do right for her little girl. It all ended one stormy night on a mountain road when her sister’s car had gone over the edge, taking Fiona’s life and her mother’s. The police had declared it a tragic accident. Poor Dana had been trapped in the back seat for hours calling for her mother and grandmother.
After their deaths, Gemma had wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. How could she live in a world without the two women she loved so much and who’d had such an impact in her life?
Except that hadn’t been an option, not with Dana injured and desperately needing someone to help her overcome the physical and mental scars from the accident.
Gemma was trying, but she was a poor substitute.
She’d never thought much about how her mother and sister had juggled work and motherhood. She now knew it couldn’t have been easy for either of them. Being an investigative reporter meant odd hours and occasional field trips. Without Aunt Sylvie’s help, she wouldn’t have survived this long. Eventually, she would have to make some tough decisions because if it came down to her career or being there for Dana, it wasn’t even close. Dana, the spitting image of her sister, won hands down.
“Come on, Princess Dana. Let’s get you back to bed.”
Dana giggled as Gemma knew she would. “You’re silly, Aunt Gemma. This is my fairy gown. I got wings and a wand. Wanna see?”
“Not tonight, little Miss Fairy. You can show me at breakfast tomorrow morning.” Gemma steered the little girl towards her room, which was sandwiched between Gemma’s and her aunt’s. Dana’s room contained all the innocence of childhood with numerous dolls and stuffed animals scattered about against a backdrop of pink and white. Gemma’s mom had decorated the room for her first granddaughter for when she stayed over. Now it had become her permanent bedroom and Gemma’s childhood home had become hers upon the death of her mom and sister.
Gemma picked Dana up, experiencing a lump in her throat at the feel of the little girl’s arms around her neck. Dana buried her head against Gemma’s throat.
“You promised to come home early,” she said.
Guilt nibbled at the edges of Gemma’s mind. “I did promise. It was bad of me to break my promise. I really had to work late tonight.” She’d been using that excuse a lot lately, which only made her feel worse. She hadn’t hesitated to take responsibility for her niece, but how could she supply the stability Dana needed after such a traumatizing event when Gemma’s job pulled her away from home all the time?
Dana placed both hands on either side of Gemma’s cheeks, their noses nearly touching. “Aunt Sylvie says work is important. She says you work too hard.”
“Aunt Sylvie talks a lot.” The fact that her aunt’s comment was true, only added to the heap of guilt she was feeling. She tucked Dana back in bed and brushed a strand of red hair off her niece’s cheek. “You like Aunt Sylvie being here?” She didn’t know what she’d have done if her aunt hadn’t offered to move in. Dana needed a great deal of love and assurance along with stability. She’d lost so much in her short life. There was no way Gemma could have left her in day care all day while she went off to work.
Dana nodded sleepily. “She smells like cookies. Yummy.”
Gemma chuckled. She bent over and kissed her niece on the forehead. “Night, sweetie. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Good night, Aunt Gemma.” Dana pulled the sheet tighter and obediently closed her eyes.
Gemma waited until she was sure the little girl was asleep. She left the room and entered her own, which reflected the woman she was and not the child she’d been. She’d chosen green as her color scheme, a color she found soothing. Ironically enough, when she crawled in bed and closed her eyes, the only color she saw was deep blue, similar to the eyes of a very maddening and all-too-sexy detective.
The next morning, Gemma woke up aware that she’d spent a restless night with far too many dreams involving herself and Jack and not too many clothes. Who’d have thought one kiss could get to her like that?
She showered, changed and then went down to the kitchen where her aunt sat reading the newspaper.
Gemma saw right away that her niece wasn’t there. “Where’s Dana?”
“Upstairs getting ready.” Aunt Sylvie bent the pages, so she could look over at her. “You made page one again.”
“I did? Let me see.” Her aunt handed her the paper and she looked over the front page. It wasn’t the lead story, but it did have good positioning and, yup, there was her byline.
“I know you love your job and everything, but you need to be careful. Please tell me you’re being careful and paying attention to your surroundings when you come home so late, like you did last night.” Aunt Sylvie carefully folded the newspaper and laid it beside her plate. She didn’t quite look at Gemma, her hand, spotted with age, smoothing over the front page in a repetitive motion. “This killer you’re writing about is out there attacking women. And you know there are others like him. Unfortunately, we live in a dangerous world.”

Killer Lies

Killer Lies
https://amzn.to/2EgCgUh
Zia Westfield
Chapter One

Sam Carmichael switched his high beams on and eased off the pedal as he drove the narrow mountain road. Fat raindrops splattered the windshield of the SUV in a steady torrent that even the windshield wipers working double time couldn’t keep up with.
The Tremayne mansion drive should be another half a mile up the road. He’d be glad to get there. The mountainside wasn’t known for landslides, but the amount of rain that had been coming down steadily had been causing a number of accidents throughout Carville. Best-case scenario, he’d see the crazy cat lady and get back into town before anything bad happened.
Thunder cracked overhead, followed by a flash of light that lit up the road, revealing towering trees on both sides. He also caught sight of the gate that signaled the Tremayne estate.
He made the turn and pulled up beside the box attached to the wall. He lowered his window, pushed the button and waited for a response.
He’d been out here years ago when he’d been riding patrol. A woman dressed in shawls and surrounded by dozens of cats, or so it had seemed, had answered the door. She’d insisted that he find the person who was trying to steal her cats.
Setting aside his private thoughts, he’d checked the house and the grounds, but had found no signs of anyone having been there.
He’d chalked it up to experience and had forgotten about it until tonight, when the desk Sergeant had roped him into coming to check out a report of a possible burglary before going home.
“Lucky me,” he said into the darkness.
“Excuse me?” The voice crackled across the intercom.
Sam leaned out, ignoring the rain that pelted him, and spoke loudly.
“Detective Sam Carmichael, Carville PD. I’m here about the burglary.” He pulled his head back in and waited for the gate to open. Instead, the intercom crackled to life once more.
“Would you show me your badge, Detective?”
Sam reminded himself that he had become a detective to serve the public, even on foul nights when man and beast knew better than to be outside. He fished his badge out of his pocket and thrust it out towards the camera. How the hell the person on the other side expected to see anything with the rain coming down like it was, he didn’t know.
The gate suddenly creaked and slowly began opening.
“You’re welcome,” Sam muttered.
While he waited for the opening to be large enough for him to drive through, he gave himself a stern talking to. Crazy cat lady or not, he would do his job and be professional. Some days were the pits and today ranked as one of them, but he wouldn’t let it interfere with his job.
He drove up the long drive, noting the overgrown lawn and the creepy vibe given off by the ivy crawling up every inch of the turreted mansion, the branches overhanging the drive, and the coldness that seemed to emanate from the dark exterior. Before he left tonight he would make a point to the person who called the stationhouse to add lights to dispel the gloom.
He pulled the SUV as close to the front porch as he could, but he was still soaked by the time he reached the top step.
He pushed the bell next to the door and prepared to meet the crazy cat lady.
The door opened, and Sam stared dumbfounded. The woman before him was dressed in shawls and a long dark grey skirt, and had one cat in her arms while another curled up on a straight back chair that butted up against the wall.
But she was years younger—younger than him, he’d guess—and punch-in-the-gut beautiful.
None of it made sense and he said the first words that popped into his mind.
“What happened to the other crazy cat lady?”
***
Kelsey Tremayne winced at the question. When she’d opened the door, she hadn’t been sure what to expect. The security system needed a major upgrade. She had barely been able to hear the detective identify himself, and the rain and poor camera quality had made it impossible to see his badge clearly.
Though she’d debated the risk in letting him approach, she had decided to chance it. She gripped the pepper spray she held in her hand which was concealed by the shawls. It hadn’t been easy to call the police given her history with them, in fact, her stomach still felt queasy over the decision, but she needed the incidents on record.
Crazy cat lady, indeed.
“Please come in, Detective.” She stepped back and petted Sabina, the white Persian mix that had sought comfort in her arms when the thunder had started.
The detective entered, dripping water on the wood floor, and surveyed her from head to foot. He was tall, over six feet, if she had to guess, with a rangy build, brown close-cropped hair, and a stubborn jaw.
Kelsey could imagine what he saw. A not-very-tall, not-very-short, brown-haired, brown-eyed female with more cats than friends. Okay, he wouldn’t be able to guess the last, but it wouldn’t take long for him to stumble onto the truth.
Then again maybe he already knew it. After all, he’d asked about the other cat lady.
“If you’d follow me,” she said, and turned to head down the hall to the one habitable room.
For whatever reason, her aunt hadn’t put her mark on the library. Perhaps it had remained a tribute to her aunt’s father, Kelsey’s grandfather. Whatever the reason, Kelsey was grateful for the comfortable furniture and the working fireplace. The heater had shown itself to be temperamental and the fire burning in the fireplace was the only source of heat she had. In a few weeks, when winter dumped snow on the ground, she’d be in trouble if she didn’t get someone to fix it. Lately, she never seemed to warm up, as if the cold lived and breathed inside her, spreading its tentacles throughout her body.
She shivered, mentally relegated the broken heater to the long list of repairs she had written, and focused on the detective.
“Would you like to have a seat, Detective? Can I get you anything to drink?” She knew she’d said the wrong thing from the way his eyes widened.
“Ma’am—”
“Kelsey. Kelsey Tremayne. Ma’am makes me sound old.” She moved a little closer to the fire, wanting the heat to dispel the chill that had taken up permanent residence in her bones.
The detective splayed his hands on his hips and watched her.
“Ms. Tremayne, you called the station and reported a burglary.”
Kelsey wet her lips and wished he’d asked for a drink. Her mouth felt dry and her throat parched.
He wouldn’t believe her. She could tell from his stance and from the way his gaze swept over the room. He had made up his mind about her. Maybe he’d even heard the rumors about her.
He’d obviously heard the ones about her aunt or why would he have called her the “crazy cat lady?”
Suddenly the room seemed to shrink. Her pulse rate increased and sweat broke out on her brow. A panic attack was imminent if she didn’t do something to head it off.
That would be all he would need to see to confirm that she was as crazy as her aunt. She couldn’t let him.
“I’m sorry, detective, for wasting your time. You should go. I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Please chalk it up to the horrible weather.” She tried to smile, but her lips seemed to tremble instead. She couldn’t even look him in the eye; her gaze slid away. She marched purposely to the door, hoping he would follow.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
She tried to remember everything her therapist had told her. Her control, though, was slipping. Footsteps sounded behind her and she knew a moment of relief. He would go.
Once he was gone, she could fall apart.
She juggled Sabina in order to grab the doorknob and pull the heavy front door open. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning lit up the sky. Sabina yowled and leaped from Kelsey’s arms, scratching them in her descent. Kelsey tripped on her floor-length skirt and fell backward.
Arms caught her and pain exploded in her head. “Let go!” She kicked and scratched and fought, determined to fight her way free.
One minute she was trapped and the next she was thrust into a hard-backed chair. Detective Carmichael stood a few feet away, looking at her as if she were indeed crazy. She wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
If only she were a cat-like Sabina, who’d scampered to the top of a stack of boxes further down the hallway and was observing them from her perch.
“Please go,” Kelsey whispered, her voice raw.
Silence pressed in on her, despite the sounds of the storm made louder by the open front door. She’d asked him to leave. Why didn’t he leave?
He walked over to the door and closed it. He blew out a breath and rubbed the top of his head.
“Look, you called about a burglary. Why don’t we focus on that?”
She shook her head. “I was mistaken.” She twisted her fingers in the shawl’s fringe. “You can go.” Maybe if she repeated it enough he’d get the hint.
He bent down and picked up the pepper spray that must have fallen out of her hand when she’d tripped. He put it on the table in the entry, next to her chair. He looked puzzled.
She waited for the barrage of questions. Memories of another interrogation intruded into her mind and once more her control began to crumble. She got to her feet, strode purposely to the front door and pulled it open.
“I’ve asked you to leave. I told you it was a mistake. Please go or I’ll have to call the station to register a complaint.” She wouldn’t, of course. Her days of dealing with the police were at an end. She’d thought she could handle talking to them, after all of her therapist’s encouragement to see beyond her own nightmarish experience. But, again, images and voices crowded into her mind, threatening to push out here and now if she didn’t hang on.
“All right. I’ll go,” he said.
He spoke evenly, and she focused on the words, not wanting to look into his eyes and see pity there.
She expected him to step past her and out onto the porch so she could shut the door. But he paused directly in front of her, facing her, though all she saw was his dark blue shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. She forced her head up to meet his gaze, her hands tightening the shawl’s material around her.
His eyes were gray, turbulent, like the storm outside. Something inside her wanted to shy away from the way he seemed to be stripping away the layers she’d successfully piled on to protect herself. But she made herself withstand the scrutiny.
He shook his head. “You know, none of this makes sense. This,” he waved his hand around to encompass the hallway, “doesn’t make sense. Mostly, though, you don’t make sense.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a business card and held it out to her.
She wet her lips, aware of his gaze suddenly focused on her mouth. She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks.
“If I take the card, will you leave?” Her voice sounded husky to her own ears and she wanted to kick herself. The last person she needed to be attracted to was a police detective.
“Just take the card,” he said.
She reached out to pluck it from his fingers, but he held on to it.
“First, get some light and better security. Second, I don’t know why you called the police, or what’s going on, but if you change your mind or need assistance, my cell phone is on here. I’ll pick up day or night.” With those final words, he released his grip on the card and walked out, closing the door behind him with a snap.
A cat meowed, and she felt the animal rub against her legs. Pulling her gaze away from the door, she reached down and picked Sabina up. She was still holding the card in her hand as she carried the cat to the library where warmth lay. She should throw it away, yet she couldn’t quite rid herself of the image of those gray eyes and that penetrating stare. He’d called her a crazy cat lady, but when he’d zoomed in on her lips, he’d seemed attracted.
Of course, it might all be in her imagination, but that didn’t matter. If she concentrated on how he’d been captivated by her lips, she wouldn’t have to think about who had been in the house and whether they would be back.

Chapter Two

Sam finished off another report and leaned back in his chair to stretch. Administration was a constant of the job. It’d been the same in the army. There’d always been forms to fill out and paperwork to file.
The only upside to all the rain pouring down these past couple of days was that it was keeping the bad guys in, giving Sam time to catch up on his case files. He looked at his watch. Another hour and he could call it a day.
“Hey, Carmichael, how’d it go at the Tremayne place?” Ryan Vanetti, the newest and youngest member of the detective division shot him a grin as he threw a wadded-up piece of paper into the trash. “Heard you got called out there last night. See any ghosts?”
“You got called out to the Tremayne place?” Sergeant Jimmy O’Hara popped his head up from the file he’d been reading at his desk, which faced Sam’s. He glared at Sam over the top of his reading glasses. “Why didn’t you tell me you went out there?”
“Forget about that,” Ryan said, hitching his hip onto the corner of Sam’s desk. “I want to hear if you got inside. In high school, we had bets that the place was haunted. Each year a couple of guys would get up the nerve to go out there, but the crazy lady who lived in the house usually chased them off.”
“Get off my desk,” Sam said, giving Ryan a shove to help move him. “There was no old crazy lady. She was young, about your age.” The jury was out, though, on the crazy part.
All day, thoughts of Kelsey Tremayne had intruded into his mind. She hadn’t wanted his help. That should have been the end of it.
Only it wasn’t.
Twice he’d lifted the phone receiver to call her and check on her well-being—which was stupid since he didn’t even know her number and she’d made it clear that she didn’t need him.
What did the woman have against police officers? Or was it men in general?
“Vanetti, in my office,” the captain shouted from his doorway. “Bring everything you got on the Portman case.”
Ryan made a comical face of disgust. “Duty calls. But don’t think you’re getting off so easy. I’ve got money on there being at least one ghost in that place. You can spill over a beer at O’Malley’s one night.” He gave a mock salute and sauntered away towards his desk.
Sam chuckled, cutting it off when he saw the dark look on Jimmy’s face. “Don’t tell me you think it’s haunted, too?”
Jimmy took off his glasses and lay them beside the keyboard on his desk. He wagged a finger at Sam. “That Tremayne place has brought nothing but bad luck to that family and to the city of Carville. What the heck did you go out there for?”
“A call came in reporting a possible burglary. I went out, met the homeowner, and end of story.” He didn’t want to talk about Kelsey Tremayne. For some reason the woman had him tied up in knots and he couldn’t figure out why. She hadn’t wanted him there. How many times did he need to remind himself of that fact?
He decided to turn the tables around and ask questions of his own. “What’s up with the place? How’d it get like that? My folks moved here when I was away with the military, not training to be a burglar like Vanetti and his buddies.”
“I heard that,” Vanetti said as he headed for the captain’s office. “You’re just jealous.”
“You wish,” Sam hollered back. But as soon as Vanetti disappeared inside the office, he repeated his question. “Seriously, what’s up with the Tremayne place? If anything, it’s gotten creepier than the time I visited years ago on patrol.”
Jimmy rubbed the side of his nose. “How long you got? Because Tremaynes go way back in Carville history.”
“The phones aren’t ringing and I could use a break.” Sam stood up and pulled out some change from his pocket. “Milk?” He grinned at the older man. It was a running joke in the office since Jimmy had switched from cup after cup of black coffee to milk.
Jimmy winced and rubbed his stomach. “Damn ulcer.”
Sam returned a few minutes later with a small carton of milk for Jimmy and a cola for himself. “Okay, so tell me about the Tremaynes.”
Jimmy shrugged. “I only know what I’ve picked up over time. The first Tremayne was a railroad magnate. New York was one of the early states to invest in railroads. There was money to be made and Tremayne made it.” Jimmy paused and took a long sip of milk through the straw.
“Why settle in Carville? It’s not exactly Wall Street or even the state capital.”
“Nope, which is why the Tremayne house became a ‘summer house,’ ” Jimmy said, making air quotes with his fingers. “The family would come up in summer with a bunch of other elites and then leave, shutting up the house behind them.”
Sam cocked his head at that. “When I rode patrol there was a Tremayne living in the house. She could’ve been anywhere from forty to sixty. It was hard to tell with all the shawls she’d draped over herself.” He thought about the woman he’d met last night. He’d pegged her for late twenties. Behaviorwise, she seemed as loopy as the older woman had been. Except he hadn’t lost sleep over the older woman.
Jimmy stood up and dropped his milk carton into the trash. “That must have been Mary Tremayne. She was the youngest of three and the only girl. She had a reputation as a hellion and rumors said she’d gotten kicked out of more than one boarding school. It was before my time, but patrols often went out to the Tremayne place when she was down from college with her buddies. Usual stuff—loud partying on the lakefront, trespassing, and so on.”
Sam tried to reconcile the image of the older woman draped in shawls with a young college woman raising hell and it wasn’t working.
“What happened?”
Jimmy took a few paces and put his hands on his hips. “Who the hell knows? But one day,” he paused as if calculating, “about twelve years ago, we got a call. The Tremaynes’s sixteen-year-old granddaughter and Lizzie Prescott, of the steel Prescotts, had disappeared.”
Sam jerked in his chair. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”
Jimmy beetled his eyes at him. “I’m guessing that, while you were stationed in Afghanistan, your mother had other things to talk about than the local headlines.”
Sam grunted. To be fair, he hadn’t been much for talking at all. His life had imploded around that time, if he were being honest, and he’d jumped head first into his military assignments to try to make up for not being there when it had mattered.
He rubbed his brow as if that would force the bad memories away. “I met Kelsey Tremayne last night. Any relation to Mary or the missing granddaughter?”
Jimmy dropped back in his chair. “You’re sure it was Kelsey Tremayne? She was the missing granddaughter. I can’t believe she’s back in town.”
“She’s back all right, though she’s giving Mary Tremayne a run for her money.” He then went on to give an account of his visit the night before.
“Damn,” Jimmy said. “Wonder what she’s doing back in town?” He stared off into space as if pondering the possible reasons for Kelsey Tremayne’s disappearance and return.
“Never mind that,” Sam said, though he, too, would have liked an answer, only maybe not for the same reasons as Jimmy. “Obviously, Kelsey Tremayne got away or was released or was never kidnapped to begin with. Was ransom asked?”
Jimmy shook his head. “No. No ransom. We were prepared for that and, given the wealthy families both victims came from, it’s what we expected. Nothing. Both the Tremaynes and the Prescotts offered rewards for information, but none of the tips phoned in led anywhere.”
Sam understood. Tips sometimes provided information that led to a break in a case, but in circumstances like Jimmy described, where money was being offered, it brought out the loons and wading through every tip to determine which had value took time.
Jimmy spread his hands. “You have to understand. We were doing everything we could, along with the state troopers and the FBI. And then, days later, Kelsey Tremayne showed up.”
“What do you mean showed up?” Sam felt like he’d been dropped in the rabbit hole where down was up and up was down.
“I mean, just showed up,” Jimmy said. “She was wandering down the middle of a mountain road when a truck driver spotted her, recognized her face from all the newspaper photos and brought her in.” Jimmy looked down at his desk, his features pensive. “At first, everyone was excited. One girl recovered and, other than being slightly dehydrated and slightly banged up, she checked out fine.”
“But?” Sam added, knowing there was a but there.
Jimmy looked up and met his gaze. “That’s just the thing. She couldn’t tell us anything. She didn’t know where she’d been or exactly what had happened. Days went by and there was no sign of Lizzie Prescott.”
He blew out a loud breath. “I tell you, Sam, I’ve got a daughter and to this day I don’t know what to think.”
Sam’s stomach tightened. “What aren’t you saying, Jimmy?”
“I don’t know how it began but there were whispers that Kelsey had gotten rid of Lizzie. There was a rumor that she was jealous of Lizzie and had set up the disappearance to give herself an alibi.”
“The police questioned her,” Sam stated flatly, thinking of Kelsey’s reaction to him last night.
“Oh, yeah,” Jimmy said. “They kept at it, though her father got her a lawyer. But the Prescotts had money, too, and they wanted answers. It was a nightmare and that kid was the target of it all.”
Jimmy rubbed his face, then dropped his hands to the desk. “That wasn’t all. Rumors implied that Kelsey wasn’t quite right.”
“What do you mean ‘wasn’t quite right?’ ” Sam asked. Anger pulsed inside him, which surprised him, given that he’d come to a similar conclusion himself. The last thing he needed was to deal with a woman with mental issues.
Jimmy shrugged. “That’s just it. The rumors and whispers were out there and people believed them, but if you ask me where they started, I couldn’t tell you.”
Sam picked up a pencil and rubbed it between his fingers, needing something to focus on to contain the energy building inside him. He’d had no idea that his question to learn about the Tremaynes would open Pandora’s box.
“Did they ever find the Prescott girl?” Sam asked.
“No, and believe me we tore this town apart, followed every possible lead, every possible sighting, but nothing.” Jimmy rubbed his stomach, his mouth twisting. “We didn’t have any evidence against the Tremayne girl and, with the Tremaynes threatening lawsuits, we let her go. Kelsey and her family packed up and left. I heard old man Tremayne got sick and Mary Tremayne was taking care of him at the house, but she kept to herself. If you hadn’t told me you’d met Kelsey last night, I’d have said she’d never set foot in Carville again.”
“No kidding,” Sam said, but he didn’t get a chance to say more because the phone on his desk rang.
By the time he finished talking to one of the assistant district attorneys, his shift was over. Sam walked outside into the steady rain and hoofed it to his car. He got behind the wheel but didn’t start the engine right away, his thoughts wandering to everything he’d learned from Jimmy.
No wonder Kelsey Tremayne had attacked him when he’d caught her. She was probably reliving whatever had happened. Even if she didn’t consciously remember the abduction, it would be there somewhere under the surface, and her natural reaction would be to fight—to prevent herself from being taken once again.
He leaned back in the bucket seat and stared out at the dark night, rain splattering on the windshield. Why had this woman gotten under his skin? She probably had a ton of psychological issues from the abduction, and from others believing she’d killed Lizzie Prescott. Whether she’d been involved or not, the woman had major mental health issues.
He gripped the steering wheel and squeezed his eyes shut. Images marched through his brain of another time, another woman, and the vicious loop of addiction and depression that had battered him with feelings of guilt and betrayal. The worst, though, had been the lies. With a history like that, he’d be a fool to waste any more energy on the mystery of Kelsey Tremayne.
He forced his eyelids open. Rather than wallow in the past, he needed to stay focused on the present. He started the engine and headed out of the lot.
At the exit, he should have flicked his turn signal to go right. Instead he sat there and debated. Right would take him home. Left would take him in the direction of the mansion and Kelsey Tremayne.
That there was any question about which direction he should go irked him. The woman wasn’t his problem. She’d rejected his help. Maybe there hadn’t even been a burglary attempt and she was like the little boy who had cried wolf. But the boy had eventually met up with the wolf and he’d paid the price.
So, had she told the truth or not? Did it matter?
“Not my problem,” he muttered into the silence.
Sam lifted his foot off the brake and pressed the gas, turning right for home.
***
Kelsey’s aunt’s bedroom lay at the back of the house on the second floor. When Kelsey entered the room, she paused, waiting for the flicker of memories, a sense that she had been there before, but there was nothing. She’d visited the house occasionally as a child, but her mother had preferred staying in the Hamptons or visiting the house in Florida. The last time she’d come was when she was sixteen and she’d been here less than two days when she’d been abducted.
Kelsey rubbed her arms. She hadn’t known her aunt well, and her father hadn’t been particularly close to his sister, but it would have made more sense for her to have passed the family mansion onto him rather than to her.
Placing her hands on her hips, she surveyed the space. She didn’t know what she was looking for—answers, she supposed.
Why had her aunt committed suicide?
The therapist in her was drawn to that question. Was there more that she and her family could have done to prevent that outcome—perhaps if they’d persuaded her aunt to visit them? Families always blamed themselves.
She’d seen plenty of that firsthand after her abduction. The tension between her parents had been extremely strained after her release and during the time she was under investigation. Her aunt had cried a lot, while her grandfather seemed to age overnight and had subsequently suffered a stroke.
As relieved as they’d been to have her back, she’d seen the burden of guilt they carried because they hadn’t been able to keep her from being abducted and they hadn’t been able to protect her from the rumors and innuendo that suggested she’d been to blame.
And now she felt the same for an aunt she’d barely known. She spied a photo on a nightstand by the bed and stepped over several piles of books and magazines to go over to it. There. On a horse, sat a young woman with brown hair and brown eyes, her vivid features sparkling with a love of life.
Kelsey replaced the photo and frowned. The lawyer had spoken of a woman who kept herself hidden in this house with only her cats as company. As if her thoughts had conjured the animal, a cat leaped onto the bed and meowed at her. It was the black and white tuxedo male that she’d dubbed Ivan. He circled around before finding a comfortable spot in which to begin grooming himself.
That was another thing that bothered her about the situation. From what she’d read between the lines from the lawyer, her aunt had adored her cats and had lavished them with attention. Yet, she’d driven across the lake to a lookout point, where she’d taken an overdose of sedatives and died alone.
Kelsey sighed. She might be interested in the puzzle her aunt presented from a professional point of view, but she had enough on her plate if she was going to get the house ready for sale, as well as search for answers about what had happened to her.
She navigated through the maze of books, magazines, and papers that covered the floor, further evidence of her aunt’s tendency to hoard, and set to work on going through the closet and dresser.
Several hours later, Kelsey sealed the last box and stacked it on top of the others she’d filled. She wasn’t sure she’d gained much more insight into her aunt’s state of mind. Many of her clothes had been of good quality, as if they’d barely been worn, and there’d been a few negligees that seemed suited for a younger woman. These would go to charity. Several pairs of jeans and flannel shirts, along with some underthings, all extremely well worn, had been stuffed into a trash bag and would be thrown out.
She dusted off her hands and stood up, stretching her back. It’d been a long day, but a productive one. She examined the room, noting the work still to be done. She needed to go through her aunt’s desk and night tables. The bed had to be stripped and anything stored underneath had to be sorted. But she’d cleaned out the dresser and the closet.
She needed to go through the piles of books and magazines littering the floor to ensure nothing important lay concealed in their midst. But, if she focused on what was left to do, she might give up, so she congratulated herself on a job well done today.
She’d given herself three weeks to pack up her aunt’s house and get it ready for sale. Considering the state the house was in, she was beginning to doubt three weeks would be enough. She had flexibility in her schedule, but she really didn’t want to be in the house longer than necessary, given the sense of unease that rode her every minute she was there.
It would have been so easy to turn it over to some firm, to have them come in and pack everything up, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do that. No matter how much she hated being in this house, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be a clue to her abduction here, which made no sense since she was found wandering down the mountain road miles away. Still, the feeling that the house held secrets had stayed with her.
In any case, she needed to know the truth. Her practice back in Long Island had been hit by the rumors of her past around the same time that she’d gotten word from the lawyer about the house. The rumors questioned her mental stability and her qualifications as a therapist. She couldn’t fight what she couldn’t see. But people believed, and the number of clients had dwindled to the point that it had made sense to take time off, to take care of her aunt’s house and hope that by the time she returned, the rumors would have died down.
Being honest with herself, she also knew she’d never be able to trust her own skills as an art therapist if she didn’t face her own past once and for all.
Like it or not, this forced stay in Carville was her chance to learn the truth about what had happened to her and Lizzie all those years ago, or to finally bury the past.
By packing up everything in the house herself, maybe she would find answers about their abduction. Maybe she’d find a clue to Lizzie’s current whereabouts.
She shuddered at that thought, knowing that no word from Lizzie all these years probably meant that she was dead. She left the bedroom and headed for the bathroom to shower before she made herself dinner. She carried the pepper spray, which had become an appendage. She simply didn’t feel safe in this house.
She tried to put her feelings in words. When she’d arrived at the house she’d felt a sense of dread as she’d entered. That sensation hovered in the atmosphere and attacked her at unexpected moments. Then there was last night’s incident, which made her wonder if she was truly alone here.
When she got to the bathroom, she paused on the threshold and examined it carefully. Nothing appeared to have been touched. The clothes she’d placed on the edge of the sink to change into still lay there folded. The window remained closed and latched and the shower curtain was open, revealing the empty tub.
Kelsey let out a sigh of relief. She closed the bathroom door and locked it, then stripped and stepped into the shower. As she soaped herself, she thought about the previous night.
The house was big, and her Aunt Mary had obviously narrowed her life down to a few rooms on the first and second floors, which she’d filled with boxes and boxes of stuff. Her aunt’s hoarding had been therapy worthy.
Even so, as she’d walked around the place, Kelsey had been careful to check the house from top to bottom to ensure it was secure before she’d called it a day. She’d then jumped into the shower, needing to shower off all the dust and dirt.
Her fingers had slowed as they worked her scalp. Had she been mistaken? Had there’d been a window open or a door?
After her shower, she’d dressed and gone back down to the living room. It hadn’t hit her right away, but then it had all started to add up: the way her sketchbook wasn’t in the spot she’d left it, the fact that her hairbrush was missing when she could have sworn she’d put it on the desk next to her toiletries, and, the most damning and frightening of all, the single stem yellow rose that had been on the fireplace mantle.
The rose had been freshly cut. There was no way it been there for more than a few hours.
Freaked out at the thought of someone in the house, she’d done the normal thing, and called the police.
As she soaped herself, Kelsey recalled the detective who’d showed up. He’d been younger than she’d expected. He’d also been better looking. Her memories of the police were of older men with bulldog-faces who’d attacked her, questioned her story and implied, subtly at first but less so later, that she’d had something to do with Lizzie’s disappearance.
Detective Carmichael might be an excellent bloodhound, but he certainly did not have the look of a bulldog. She was female enough to have noticed the sculpted lines of his jaw and cheeks, the cool depths of his gray eyes, and the strength in his body.
But any notice had been pushed aside, and any pretext of normalcy given up on, when she’d been unable to report her fear of an intruder. She’d felt the panic start to rise and had reacted, telling him she’d made a mistake and kicking him out.
He’d thought she was crazy. And if he hadn’t thought so then, surely he’d thought so when he’d tried to keep her from landing on her butt and she’d thanked him by attacking him.
Kelsey groaned in embarrassment as she washed the soap off. All the years of therapy and all the years spent studying psychology and psychosis and she fell to pieces over a simple matter of assistance. How could she ever help her patients if she couldn’t help herself? Maybe the rumors that had been impacting her practice weren’t so far off. Maybe she was losing her mind...
It had to be this house, something in the atmosphere.
But it wasn’t the house that had left her the rose.
Beginning to feel distinctly uneasy, and with her mind whirling in circles over the incident, Kelsey hurried through the rest of her shower and dried off quickly. She dressed in sweatpants, T-shirt and a sweatshirt, grabbed a towel for her hair, and her pepper spray, and exited the bathroom.
The hallway was dimly illuminated to the staircase. Kelsey’s stockinged feet didn’t make a sound on the carpet. She gave a little shiver as she walked down the stairs, gripping the banister as she realized how slippery socks were on the polished treads. How had her aunt lived alone in this mausoleum without going crazy or scaring herself to death?
Then again, her aunt had committed suicide. Maybe the house had gotten to her in the end. Though, in that case, she would have thought she would have killed herself inside the place. Instead, she’d driven her car across the lake to Wheeler’s Lookout, an overlook that was a favorite necking spot of teenagers, and had taken an overdose of sleeping pills.
At the bottom of the stairs, Kelsey rubbed her face with the towel, aware of the guilt she was trying to get rid of.
She didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. Her aunt had refused to visit Kelsey’s family home on Long Island and neither Kelsey nor her parents had had any desire to visit the old family homestead in Carville.
She padded to the library, with one cat joining her and then another. She left the door ajar, so any others could enter as well. She wasn’t quite certain how many cats there were. She’d identified five so far and had named them. She’d also left water and the cat food that she’d found in the pantry in a few strategic places for any that were afraid to show themselves.
In the middle of the library, she paused and slowly turned, examining every inch of the room as she did so. Her suitcase remained closed where she’d left it. The half-full glass of water sat on the low coffee table and the decade-old fashion magazine that she’d been flipping through earlier lay beside it. The fireplace mantle was bare.
Nothing appeared out of place. Tension seeped from her shoulders. While she didn’t like thinking that she’d imagined last night’s incident, it beat the alternative.
She dropped the towel on the sofa and finger-combed her hair, dragging it in front of her face to work out the tangles. Tomorrow she’d run to the store and pick up another brush and other sundry items.
She flipped her hair back over her head, and her eyes landed on the library windows. For a brief second, a face pressed up to the panes. Pale, undefined features gave the sensation of bone structure, of something potentially human. And then it was gone.
Her nerves seemed frozen and her muscles locked. But when the face disappeared from view, she jerked to life and let out a piercing scream.

The Story Of JESS & AVER

The Story Of JESS & AVER
Giving Love A Chance
https://amzn.to/2VNMgd9
K.A. NEESON
Chapter One

New York City, 2016

How many people have been swept off their feet in New York City?
I’ll bet many have. I’ll bet many people have loved and lost and loved again in this city. However, I don’t think anyone experienced a love story such as mine.
It was epic in all proportions.
My name is Avlene, otherwise known as ‘Aver.’ I suffer from Generalized Anxiety Disorder, or GAD. Basically, that means I get these persistent, overblown worries about normal things and I can't really control it. I often expect the worst, even when there’s no cause for concern. Living in New York City is perfect for me; I can find whatever I need when I need it, but when I need to hide, I can disappear without anyone noticing.
However, I haven’t allowed my anxiety to ruin my dream of being an actress. I admit, one can’t help feeling judged during an audition, and standing up in front of people is nerve-wracking, but I have faith in my skills. Being able to shed my skin and morph into someone else is an amazing experience, especially when it allowed me to live as an entirely different person. I can be someone who’s free of anxiety and self-doubt. When I act, I can envision an existence different from my own. The opportunity led to those rare moments when I let myself shine.
It was my burgeoning acting career, in fact, that led to the greatest shake-up of my life.
***
One fateful spring day, my agent called to say that she had an audition lined up for me. It was for a part in a play. I had acted in many off-Broadway productions, so I was confident in that zone, but I tempered my expectations by reminding myself that getting selected is rare. I joked about adding one more rejection to my list of cast calls.
The audition was being held clear across Midtown, so I needed to hurry. I arrived on time and anxiously waited until my name was called.
“Avlene, you’re up next!”
Entering the boardroom, I found the casting agent, the producer, and the playwright all sitting in cushy chairs.
“Hello, Avlene,” the casting agent greeted. “My name is Jon. I’m in charge of casting. This is Jim, the producer, and Jesse MacGregor, the playwright.”
I gave an awkward curtsy. “Nice to meet you.”
“Now, you’re reading for Sally,” he said. “Here are the lines. Take a minute to read through them. Remember, Sally is a nervous, timid individual.”
“That sounds familiar,” I said. “Indeed. Think of her as a skittish cat.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” I grinned, feeling a bolster of courage rush through me. “You just described my whole existence: nervous and skittish.”
I can do this, I thought.
Oddly enough, the distracted writer of the play put down what he was doing and made eye contact with me. As I went over the lines, he watched my performance intently.
Personally, I thought I killed it. The team showed no inclination one way or the other. They thanked me for coming out, assuring me that, if they were interested, my agent would hear from them. I left feeling half-hopeful, half-sad, but I consoled myself with the fact that I had given it my all. Now, it was just a waiting game.
That was the first time I ever saw Jesse MacGregor’s piercing blue eyes. What struck me the most about him—besides his good looks— was the sound of his voice. He had a gentle, calming voice. Very soothing to the soul.
Three days later my agent called.
“Avlene,” she said, “Jesse Macgregor would like to meet with you.”
“MacGregor?” I replied. “You mean the playwright I auditioned for on Friday?”
“That’s him. It didn’t sound like the usual call-back, but he would very much like to speak with you in person.”
My curiosity was piqued. “Okay. When?”
“Today, at his office today in Midtown. One o’clock. Can you make it?”
“Are you kidding? Of course, I can!”
I went about my day wondering what on Earth Jesse MacGregor wanted to talk to me about. At the time, I worked at the Daily Gazette, a Manhattan-based newspaper. Andrew, Alex and I—the Three Musketeers, we call ourselves—were stationed in the basement offices, which are more commonly referred to as “the bowels” of the newspaper. We wrote the obituaries and lovingly refer to them as “The
Dispatch Column.” Not the greatest job in the world, but it paid the bills and kept me afloat in between acting gigs.
A good sense of humor was a must in that department, and between the three of us, humor was never lacking. Andrew and Alex were not just my coworkers, but also good friends. When we weren’t writing missives for the dearly departed, we were meeting for drinks after work to congratulate ourselves on a job well done.
That day was just like any other Monday. Mondays and Fridays were our busiest days. We had the usual mountain of work to get through, but our teamwork ensured we always submitted on time.
Andrew and Alex strolled in together.
“Avlene? “Andrew asked. “You’re here already?”
“Just trying to get a head start,” I said. “Oh, I hope you two don’t mind, but I need to take lunch a few minutes before one o’clock today.”
“Sure, I don’t see why not,” he said. “What's going on?” Alex asked.
“Remember that audition I went to last week?” I said. “My agent called today and asked if I could meet with the playwright. His office is in Midtown, so I need to leave a few minutes earlier to get there. Been wracking my brain all morning trying to figure out what he wants to see me for.”
“Well, maybe you got the part!” Andrew said. “What else could the guy want?”
“I thought that might be it,” I said, “but rumor has it that the role of Sally has already been cast.”
“Maybe he has you in mind for another part;” Alex said reassuringly. “Whatever it is, it’ll be good news, right?
“Only time will tell, guys.” I gave them a bright smile to let them know I was going to be okay either way.
As the lunch hour approached, I found myself losing focus on the task at hand. The prospect of meeting Jesse MacGregor filled me with apprehension. “All right, I’m heading out now,” I told the guys. “Don’t want to keep him waiting.”
“Good luck, Avlene,” Alex returned.
“Look, I’m not sure how long this is going to take,” I said. “Can you cover for me? If the boss lady comes downstairs, tell her I had a doctor’s appointment. I’ll take time off in lieu.”
“Will do,” Andrew said. “Hey, I hope this is good news. You really deserve a break.”
They offered a few more encouraging statements and I bid them farewell.
Heartened by the guys’ comments, I felt hopeful as I walked through the busy streets, heading to Midtown. When I arrived at the address my agent had relayed to me, I took a moment to revel in the building’s structure. It was a massive skyscraper that must stand at least 40 floors tall, composed of beautiful mirrors and ornate embellishments. The doorways were decorated with crown moldings. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I walked inside.
I felt out of place in the pristine high-rise, and I struggled to control my breathing when the receptionist buzzed me into the suite. Arriving at the desk, I introduced myself.
She met me with a sullen glare. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are. Have a seat. It may be a while. Mr. MacGregor is very busy this afternoon.”
There is something about waiting rooms that puts me on edge. No matter what the appointment is about, waiting rooms and I do not agree with one other. There is no other way to explain it: waiting rooms are hell for people who have anxiety. The receptionist’s cold welcome made it worse. I tried to sit still but found myself trembling. I could feel my diaphragm quivering, but I tried to focus on my breathing. My feet were restless, my legs shaking. I was contemplating fleeing the room out when Jesse finally appeared.
“Avlene!” He greeted, smiling down at me from his confident six-foot posture. “Thank you for coming. Please follow me.”
He led me down a long corridor and into an office at the end of the hall. The room was spectacular: huge, almost a loft-style space. The usual office furnishings were all there: a desk, two chairs, a computer, a filing cabinet, and the expected supplies. What intrigued me, however, was that he also had a fireplace installed, a pool table at the back half of the office and a mini-bar stocked with drinks, cookies, muffins, and other assorted snacks. I’d never seen anything like it. It made me wonder: did he live in his office? Of course, I refrained from asking. The last thing I wanted was to look naive.
Jesse noticed my preoccupation with his office and smiled. “I like my guests to feel comfortable. Can I get you anything, Avlene?”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “No, thank you.”
I planted myself in the seat he offered me, fighting to steady my hands as he sat down in the other chair. Then, taking a deep breath, I spoke honestly. “Mr. MacGregor, I don’t mind telling you that I’m anything but comfortable right now. I... I’m very confused as to why you arranged this meeting. I heard that the role of Sally has already been cast.”
“I meet a great many people in the run of a day,” he said, “and very few surprise me. When you walked into the audition room last week, your humor and charisma drew me in. I found it endearing when you said you could play Sally because her traits characterized your existence. That showed terrific empathy with the character. It seemed to me that her struggles were something you could relate to on a personal level.”
“Yes,” I said. “From what I read of the script, she’s a lot like me.” “Most actresses will say anything to land a part,” he said, “but you seem... honest. Genuine. To be frank, you really stayed in my thoughts, and I knew I had to talk to you again.”
The more he spoke, the more I became confused. “Oh... I see. So, Avlene’s not good enough for my play, but what the hell? Bring her in, make her all nervous and wish her well?”
“No... No, that's not what I’m doing.” His confident demeanor slipped. “Avlene, look, maybe I’m being a little too forward, but... I would like to get to know you, perhaps take you out to dinner.” His voice took on a pleading tone, urging me to believe him as he made his intentions known.
“Oh, my God...” I could feel the color draining from my face. “You... You’re actually...” Feeling waves of self-conscious heat overtake me, I began to plan my escape. “I need a glass of water.”
“Avlene, I’m so sorry.”
I wasn’t sure why he apologized, but I was certain he didn’t know either. He poured me some Perrier with a slice of lemon.
“Thank you,” I muttered. “Just in a wee bit of shock. I’ll be all right in a moment.” I took a sip of water, concentrating until my heart rate to slow down.
“Are you in shock because I asked you to dinner, or is this the standard reaction everyone gets?” The question seemed rude, but I could detect the humor in his voice.
“Oh, this would be my natural reaction, so don't go thinking you’re special.” His face drooped, and I laughed at him before continuing, “You’re not that great, you know.”
Then, I did something totally out of character.
I winked at him.
A cute smirk appeared on his face. “Feisty. That's the girl that caught my attention last week. Feisty with an odd sense of humor. I like you, Avlene.”
“Oh, there is a lot more to me than just a bundle of nerves,” I assured him.
He scooted his chair closer to mine. “I had to call your agent because I had no idea how else to find you. Do you have any free time? We could get out of here, go for a coffee or take a walk.”
“I’d like that,” I smiled. “However, I do have to get back to work. This was my lunch hour. Technically, I am AWOL right now. My co-workers are covering for me.”
“Where do you work?” he wondered.
“I work at The Daily Gazette.”
His eyes lit up. “Are you a writer as well?”
“Oh no, my job is nowhere near as creative. Not on your scale by any means. I write obituaries.”
“Writing eulogies for people you've never met?” he said. “Hell, that must take all kinds of creativity! Do you enjoy it?”
“You know,” I said, giving my job more consideration than usual, “it really is fascinating. Yeah, I do like it. We’re given facts about these poor, departed people, and we piece together their lives in a few lines. Their loves, their achievements. Their stories. We write about their dance with life.” It was as passionate as I’d felt about my job in a long time.
“Avlene, that was beautifully worded,” he said sincerely.
“Thank you,” I responded, a hint of pride in my voice. “Coming from a writer, that’s a genuine compliment.”
“Well, as much as I hate to see you go, I guess I better let you get back to work.” He sighed. “How about we meet tonight? Nothing scary. I’ll meet you in Central Park near the mall. We’ll go for a walk and just talk.”
“That sounds...” I fought back the first wave of an anxiety attack. “That sounds nice. I’m usually done with work around four thirty. How about I meet you there around five?”
“Sounds perfect,” he smiled. “See you then, Avlene.”
“Have a lovely afternoon, Jesse.” With a wave goodbye, I took off. As I hurried through the streets of Midtown, Jesse's voice echoed in my ears. That soft, calming quality I had detected at the audition was still detectable. He was unlike anyone I had ever met.
I had surprised myself by using sarcasm with him. That was not a normal occurrence for me; around attractive men, I was usually so nervous that I could hardly speak. Something about Jesse made me feel different, more relaxed—that is, of course, after I got over the initial shock of him wanting to have dinner with me. I found myself reluctant to return to work. My thoughts kept drifting back to him.
As soon as I reached the office, I was bombarded with questions from Andrew and Alex.
“How did it go?” Andrew asked.
Alex was less composed. He couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Did you get the part? Tell me you got the part. When do you go in for rehearsal?”
I laughed at his eagerness. “No, Alex, it was quite out of the ordinary.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s tough to describe,” I said. “Jesse MacGregor led me into his upscale office and asked me if I would consider having dinner with him.”
"Wait,” Andrew said. “He asked you out?”
“He said he meets ‘a great many people’ in his profession. Somehow, I caught his attention in such a way that he ended up calling my agent and rigging up this meeting just so he could meet me again. Andrew, that's a little weird, isn't it?” I turned to him, anxiously awaiting his response. My doubts started creeping in again.
“I’m not sure if ‘weird’ is the right word here,” he said. “Maybe
‘determined?’ ”
I exhaled with relief. “Well, as you can imagine, I was so shocked that I turned a lethal shade of white. He ran, got me some water, and kept apologizing. Quite honestly, guys, I would be too nervous to have dinner with him. Coffee or a walk is fine, but dinner in a restaurant? Nope, can't do it. At the best of times, I’m a bundle of nerves. It would be a disaster if I actually fell for someone.”
Alex grinned like a child; Andrew’s skeptical grimace appeared.
“Sooo, you’re saying you like him?” Alex said.
I felt myself starting to blush. “Yes, I’m saying I like him. He went to a lot of trouble to arrange another meeting between us, so I agreed to meet him after work in the park for a walk.”
“He was okay with the no dinner thing?” Andrew asked.
“Oddly enough, yes.”
“Wow, you must have made quite an impression,” Alex said, his face splitting into an enormous grin.
“I hope we get to meet this guy,” Andrew said. “I mean, if this goes anywhere...”
“Well, of course, you will,” I said. “I already told Jesse about you two and the fine art of obituary writing.” They seemed pleased by that fact. “He thinks the work we do here is important.”
“Well, remember: he’s trying to make a good impression on you,” Andrew said.
“No, I think he’s sincere. No pretenses. He seems like a straight shooter, which is what I like about him.”
“Well okay, princess, but you're like our little sis, so we’ll be checking him out,” Andrew warned, going into Big Brother mode.
Alex nodded in agreement.
A rush of affection swept over me. Their protectiveness warmed my heart. “I can always count on you two.”
Four thirty P.M.
Finally.
All the obituaries were written, and it was time to go home. “Avlene, have fun and try to relax,” Andrew said, giving his usual dose of encouragement. “You’ve already got his attention. The hard part is over.”
“So true!” Alex exclaimed. “Congrats on breaking routine! Tonight is going to be almost as fun as dinner while watching Jeopardy on TV!” “Real funny,” I huffed, rolling my eyes. “You guys are making me sound like a loser! I’m not that pathetic, I’ll have you know! Trivia from game shows will come in handy one day.” I gave them a good-natured grin.
“Avlene,” Andrew said. “Remember, if this guy does anything out of line...”
“Oh, don’t scare her!” Alex interrupted. “She’s already a bundle of nerves.”
Andrew spread his arms. “I’m just saying, it happens! Remember what we talked about, Avlene: foot to the groin.”
“I remember,” I said, throwing my purse over my shoulder. “It’s worked in the past, hasn’t it?”
Although Andrew and Alex liked to tease me, they knew how difficult it was for me to leave my comfort zone. Stepping into a strange situation created a lot of anxiety for me. But somehow, in just a couple of short meetings, Jesse made the risk seem worthwhile.
He would be worth it. I could sense it.
Thank goodness I was wearing makeup. That was just luck, of course; when I had left the house, I had no idea what the day would bring. I suppose it didn't really matter, as Jess had been somehow entranced with me on our first fleeting encounter.
I hurried to the park and chose a bench near the mall, where I sat for what felt like an eternity. Watching people go by helped pass the time. I observed an older couple in their mid-seventies holding hands, and they looked so in love. I often wondered how people could be happy for so many years. I guessed it was about finding that one who could make you happy forever.
When I beheld Jesse walking toward me, my stomach instantly filled with butterflies. My heart was racing, but not with the usual panic I was prone to. This time, it felt good.
I waved to get his attention. He smiled and strolled over, greeting me with a huge grin and a hug.
“I’m so glad you came, Avlene. I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon.”
“Oh, right,” I joked. “I’m sure a writer-novelist-producer like you has more important things to think about.”
“You are a welcome distraction to my day.” It was a smooth enough line, but he seemed sheepish in the face of his own honesty.
Mine as well, Jesse.
My heart skipped another beat.
Come on, Avlene. Keep your head on straight. Take it slowly, or you’ll screw this up.
Jesse cleared his throat. “Things can be busy, but sometimes it's so slow. That's what makes me envious of people like you, who have full-time jobs. I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, but you know your work will always be there and your paychecks are stable. My job is great when things are going well, but it’s scary when business is slow.”
“It can be comforting to have secure employment,” I said, “but there are times when I wish I didn’t have to get up to go to work, that I could just take a vacation between plays and have a week or two to myself. No one leads a perfect life, but we make do with what we have.”
A companionable silence ensued, and then Jesse stood up, reaching for my hand. “C'mon Avlene, let’s go to Shake Shack. I’m starving!”
“Sounds good.” I took his hand, only to be pulled right out of my chair.
I jumped a mile.
“Everything okay?” he asked, quickly dropping my hand.
“Y-Yes, I’ll be okay,” I assured him. “I startle easily from sudden movements. I have this... this social anxiety, so I’m not used to being around new people, or outside my routine. This is something new for me.”
“I don’t want to force you into something uncomfortable,” he said. “Do you want to try again some other night?”
That familiar voice inside my mind begged me to take him up on his offer, to run for that escape route while it was in view.
No.
Not today.
I took his hand. Today I would be brave. Brave, for him.
He smiled at me.
And there went the butterflies again.
We ambled across the park, hand in hand.
“Social anxiety,” Jesse mused. “Is that why you turned white when I asked you out for dinner?”
“Yes,” I answered. “That whole situation caught me off guard, and I am not a big fan of surprises. I’m different from most women. I need time to get to know someone and then I start to relax, slowly. An ideal date for me would be this: a walk in the park and chats over some coffee and dessert.”
The natural beauty of Central Park put me at ease. All that vibrant greenery in the middle of the bustling city gave me cheerful vibes. This was one of my favorite places.
I cleared my throat again and continued. “I have no idea how some women go out to dinner with a man they hardly know and end up spending the night with him. Dear Lord, that would never be me! Seriously, I’m the shyest girl you’ll ever meet. If I had to, you know, take my clothes off, I would have to get you to close your eyes, and it would have to be very dark in the room.”
It took me a few seconds to realize what I had just said. Once it settled in, my eyes opened wide in horror.
Jesse issued a cute laugh, clearly enjoying my rambling. “Okay, note to self: if Avlene and I get married, bring a blindfold to the honeymoon.”
Oh, my God.
My face caught fire.
Kill me now. Please, God, kill me now.
“Umm...” I chuckled. “I can't believe I just told you all that. Sometimes I forget how I can ramble when I’m nervous. It’s like... if I don’t know what to say, I just say whatever comes out.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. We all have our quirks.”
“Out of curiosity, is running away and hiding from you an option?”
“Nope,” Jesse laughed. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. You’re way too pretty.”
My face turned an even deeper shade of red. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. My hands were sweaty. I’m sure Jesse noticed.

“Jess, if I happen to say the wrong thing and offend you, let me know, okay?” I requested. “I don’t mean it. It just happens.”
“Avlene!” He said, turning to me with a satisfied grin. “You just called me ‘Jess.’ ”
“So?”
“I think you’re feeling more comfortable with me already. People use nicknames as a sign that they like someone and feel comfortable with them.”
“Yes, you’re right,” I replied, mirroring his smile.
“You see, you think you say the wrong things, but I see them as positives. Don’t be so hard on yourself! I can tell the difference. I don’t see you as the sort of person who says malicious things for no reason.” “Thank you. Not everyone is so understanding. And you don't mind me calling you ‘Jess,’ do you?”
“No, of course not,” he said. “I prefer it. Makes me feel more grown-up than ‘Jesse.’ What about you? Do you have a nickname?”
“It used to be ‘Avey,’ but I can’t stand it. It makes me feel like a little kid.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll think it over and come up with a good nickname for you. If you like it, great, and if you don't like it, Avlene it is.”
“Deal!”
We walked and talked for hours.
After stopping at Shake Shack for milkshakes, we took a little tour of the neighborhood. We passed all kinds of landmarks. We talked about art. I told him that MOMA is one of my all-time favorite museums.
“I used to dream about living in the Museum Towers,” I said. “Of course, dreams are just dreams, and I could never afford to live there. I’m afraid I’m a princess without a castle. I live on the Lower East Side, close to Lenox Hill Hospital. I enjoy the East Side—lots of restaurants and bars, always something to do—yet I hardly go out. Still, there’s comfort in knowing that if I wanted to, I could.”
Jess found all this amusing for some reason. “I can relate. My life is similar. Writing requires me to work alone, so I don’t go out much either. I’m something of a workaholic.”
“Perhaps we can work on this together, Jess. Maybe you can try to be less of a workaholic, and I can try to be a little less anxious and more outgoing. Although that may prove more difficult; telling myself not to worry is like telling water not to be wet.”
We both laughed.
“I don’t need you to change,” he assured me. “I like you just as you are.”
“I like you as you are, too,” I replied, flashing him a shy smile.
“I’m curious about something,” Jesse stated, “and I hope you don't mind me asking this question. If it’s too personal, you can tell me to mind my own business.”
“Go ahead.”
“Well, being that you have social anxiety—GAD, I presume—how is it that you can act? I mean, if it’s not a rude question.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m glad you asked. Most people are afraid of anything they don’t understand. But as soon as you try to understand, to put yourself in the other person’s shoes, the fear starts to fade. Acting for me is an incredible outlet. To take on the persona of someone entirely different than yourself is liberating. There is terrific power in leaving myself behind; I rarely feel anxious when I am acting. If anything, it's just the opposite. I can concentrate and filter everything out, channel the very essence of the character I’m playing. At times, I wish I could act 24 hours a day, but then I can’t help but wonder how that would work. The mental focus would be exhausting.”
“Wow!” Jess’s voice was full of admiration. “Playing different roles and assuming different personas is almost cathartic for you.”
“Exactly, Jess. It truly is!”
As we made our way through town, a pair of young men hurried past us. “Damn,” one of them said, “It’s almost ten o’clock. Better head back.”
“Did you hear that?” I said to Jess. “Is it really that late?” I checked my watch. The kid was right.
“Well, the night has flown by,” Jess answered. “I’ve really enjoyed this evening.”
“Me too,” I said. “I’m finding it very easy to speak to you, Jess, which is not always the case.”
“I’m sure being in neutral territory helped.”
“I really need to be getting home. I have an early start at the newspaper tomorrow.”
“Come on, I’ll walk you.”
I did not want to leave him.
Standing outside my apartment, I realized that in such a short time, Jesse MacGregor had added a new spark to my life. He leaned in and hugged me. I returned the embrace.
And as I looked up at his face, he softly kissed my lips and then respectfully backed away.
My heart started screaming for him to come back. There was something very special about this man. It was as if his soul could speak to mine.
As he started off, he looked back and said: “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Aver!”
I returned a huge grin and a thumbs-up.
He thought for a moment, then turned back again. “Do you like it?” “What?”
“Your new nickname.”
“I love it!”
“It has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Jess and Aver, I thought. Forever and ever. Yes, it does.
Chapter Two

I always looked forward to Tuesday. It was my day off.
I tended to be ritualistic in my behaviors. Routine was comforting to me. Therefore, every Tuesday, I treated myself to pancakes at a cute diner in Midtown—it’s also the only day of the week I allow myself to eat carbs—and then watched a movie at one of the local cinemas. Another plus was that because people rarely go to the movies on a Tuesday during working hours, it was like having a screening room all to myself. Naturally, it was the happiest day of the week for me.
Dave was the owner of the diner. He was in his mid-sixties and hails from Ireland. I saw him a few times a week, and we always had the greatest chats. He knew my closest friends, Leslie, Andrew, and Alex. Although I had a small group, I believed that a few close friends were better than a hundred acquaintances. Leslie, Andrew, and Alex were the people I could really count on. I didn’t have a traditional family. My friends were my family. This also included Dave, who was very much a father figure to me.
That Tuesday morning after my date with Jess, I walked to the diner to meet Leslie. I suppose that’s what made me think of the Valentine’s Day party. I loved the holiday and always wanted to throw my own party. Usually, parties don’t agree with me. Dave was instrumental in helping me follow through without letting my nerves get the best of me.
He always helped me to deal with my anxiety. “One piece at a time,” he liked to say. He was great at breaking things down into tiny steps. He told me to start small, just have an intimate get-together with three or four friends and host it at his diner. Before I knew it, I had a whole event planned. Dave knew I didn’t go out much, so he took pride in the fact that I chose his diner and allowed him to help.
This was my re-introduction to social activities.
Over the previous two years, our Valentine’s Day gatherings had become full-on happenings. I would throw pancake parties for all my friends, attached or single, and most of the newspaper staff and their families looked forward to the event. Dave would close the diner and reopen just for us on the eve of Valentine’s Day. The menu consisted of Red Velvet Pancakes shaped like hearts, Buttermilk Pancakes shaped like hearts with scalloped edges made from whipped cream, and Strawberry pancakes with chocolate sauce topping. We always had a blast, and everyone enjoyed themselves. Leslie was there every year; all of our milestones are celebrated at Dave’s Diner with our friends. It’s our home away from home.
The mornings after my date with Jesse, Dave greeted me at the door of the diner. Leslie was already seated at our usual table: a booth with a big picture window facing the street. It was wonderful having breakfast while we watched busy New Yorkers rushing by. I was so happy not to be part of the hustle and bustle.
I couldn’t wait to tell Leslie all about Jess. One date with him had left me with a permanent grin!
Leslie has been my best friend for years. She is a real estate agent, and we met when she found me my apartment on the Lower East Side. We’ve been close ever since. In fact, Leslie was my first friend in New York City. We’ve been through so much—the joys and sadness, the ups and downs—and we celebrated our successes together. I couldn’t wait to tell her all about Jess.
Leslie greeted me with a warm smile.
“Avlene, I am so glad you called!” she said. “Our schedules have been out of sync.”
I sat down. I liked facing the window and Leslie liked to sit facing the room, so our table was perfect.
Leslie leaned forward in anticipation. “Okay, don’t hold back,” she commanded. “What’s his name and where’s he from? Tell me everything!”
“Leslie, what makes you suspect there’s a guy?” I asked innocently. “It’s that toothy grin!” she said, pointing to my face. “Your eyes are twinkling. Plus, well, I have to admit I ran into Andrew and Alex at the coffee shop earlier. They informed me you were out last evening with a guy named Jesse. Avlene, tell me everything!”
I laughed at her excitement. “One of the largest cities in the world, yet nothing stays a secret. Andrew and Alex are my own private paparazzi. “Amazing they ran into you, but yes, they were probably hoping you knew something.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Oddly enough, I auditioned for a part in a play he had written. I went through the audition and didn’t think too much of it, until my agent called me and said, ‘Hey, Jesse MacGregor wants to meet with you again!’ I already knew the role I’d auditioned for was cast, so why did he want to meet with me? Andrew and Alex thought it was to offer me a role in one of his other productions.”
“Was it?”
“No,” I said, “No, it wasn’t. Come to find out, he enjoyed my audition on a much more personal level. He liked my humor and my wit, and he said he couldn’t get me out of his mind. He then proceeded to ask me to have dinner with him!”
“Get out of here!” she gasped. “What did you do?”
“Well, you know me: I panicked,” I said. “I tried to keep a leash on it so he wouldn’t catch on to my uneasiness. He fetched me some water, and when he wasn’t looking, I popped an Ativan and tried to calm down.”
I’m like a magician: no one notices when I take my panic pills. Sleight-of-hand. I’m pretty skilled at concealing that. The great panic-attack ninja.
“Okay,” she said, “what happened then?”
“We talked for a while, and he asked me to have coffee with him. Not dinner, thank God. Nothing so scary. He was very reassuring. I told him I would like that, but I needed to get back to work. So, he suggested we meet in the park around five, go for a walk and get a coffee. He was quite funny and easygoing about the whole thing.”
“Avlene, that’s a good sign! Usually, you are so uncomfortable around men.”
“He’s warm and charming,” I replied, “but not in a pushy or overbearing way. I told him a little bit about my anxiety and he took it very well. We had an interesting conversation about leaving oneself behind to portray a role. It was a very enjoyable evening. At one point, I called him ‘Jess’ instead of ‘Jesse,’ and it made him really happy. He said it showed that I was comfortable around him.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” Leslie remarked, resting a hand on her heart. Then, I proceeded to tell her about how my new nickname came into being, and made certain not to skip the kiss. Leslie “ooh’ed” and “aah’ed” at all the right moments.
Still, she seemed skeptical. “He sounds... a little too good to be true, Avlene.”
I frowned at her. “Can’t I just have this one, Leslie?”
“Of course. Just watch yourself. I’m sure he’s great, but be cautious and take it slow. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“No worries there, Leslie, I’m the Queen of Cautious.”
We caught up on each other’s lives, enjoying one another’s company as we always do. After breakfast, Leslie excused herself, as she had a busy day of house-showings in upstate New York.
Soon after she left, Dave came to sit with me.
“So, lassie, how’re you? All smiles today, aye? Anything interesting happening? Does that grin have anything to do with a certain lad?”
“Yes, it does. His name is Jesse. He’s a writer and a producer of plays. I met him at an audition.”
“Oh, did you get the part?”
“No,” I said. “Instead, I met a very gentle and kind soul.” “Avlene,” he said, “life works in mysterious ways. Things always have a way of working out the way they’re supposed to. You may not have won the role in this play, but maybe you won this bloke’s heart. Would you rather play the lead in one of his plays for a few months, or be the leading lady in his life? I realize I may be projecting a wee bit, but you see, you never know what life has in store. I’m rooting for you. I hope this works out, I really do.”
“Thanks, Dave.” I stood up to hug him.
“Are you off to the movies today?” he asked.
“You know it!” I grinned.
“That’s my girl. Glad to hear you’re getting out more! Avlene, you know I’m always here if you need to talk. Remember, you must bring the lad by soon. I need to make sure he’s a good fellow!”
“Ok, Dave,” I promised, leaving him with a warm smile and a laugh. As I left the diner, I was indecisive about which theatre I would go to. There was the AMC Lowe’s Theatre in Lincoln Square, on the Upper West Side near Columbus Avenue, big enough that you would never run into anyone you knew. The screens all had different names:
Capitol, Majestic, Palace, Valencia, and Olympia, just to name a few. There was a downstairs, an upstairs and even a fourth floor—a movie heaven.
I also liked the Cineplex on Avenue of Americas because you could collect scene points. However, my absolute favorite was the Paris Theatre. It was much smaller, and you had to line up fifteen minutes prior to show time outside. Fire codes prevented anyone from milling around in the lobby. This theatre was romantic old Hollywood and I absolutely loved its ambiance. Since I was feeling nostalgic, I decided on that theater. Plus, they had early morning screenings for eight dollars.
I decided to go see a 10:30am screening of Lion. The theatre was also close to Bergdorf Goodman and The Plaza Hotel. I loved the location; after the film, I could go window-shopping and maybe have tea at The Plaza. Yes, the Paris Theatre was my destination of choice for that Tuesday morning.
Thoughts of Jess consumed me. I hoped I would hear from him soon. I tried to tell myself not to be too anxious since most men follow the three-day rule before calling, but I desperately wanted to hear his voice. I found myself daydreaming about him even though it had been less than 24 hours since I’d last seen him. I could still faintly smell his cologne on my jacket.
C’mon, Avlene, back to earth. Put your feet firmly on the ground. It was nice, but you know all too well that there’s a possibility you may never hear from him again.
Anxiety deters a lot of men. They don’t seem to know how to handle it, or even want to try. Although Jess seemed different, I really didn’t know.
A movie would be the perfect distraction. I had walked three blocks when I received a text message. Like a fool, I started rummaging through my handbag to find my phone. I expected it to be Leslie, texting me a picture of a mansion in Lagrangeville, upstate New York, praying for a sale and a big commission. When I didn’t recognize the number, I assumed it was a mistake. I started to put my phone back in my handbag, when suddenly, my heart began to race.
Oh, my goodness, could it be Jess?
Of course! He wasn’t on my contact list, so his call would come up as a string of unfamiliar numbers. I grabbed my phone out of my handbag and clicked on the text message.
There it was.
I squealed so loud that the people standing on the street corner backed away like I was having some sort of psychotic episode. I was jumping for joy, half screaming and half laughing. It was him! —Good morning, Sunshine, thinking of you. XO, Jess.
You know the great thing about New York? People are used to seeing all kinds of weird stuff. Even if I was acting silly, even if people were walking a wide circle around me, I still fit right in. I started to reply but realized my text message looked more like a novel.
Be cool, Avlene. Don’t write him a book.
I erased that text and sent a new one. —Morning. Thinking of you too! – Aver.
It was stupid, I know. But what else could I say? I hate technology. No one talks to each other anymore unless there’s a touchscreen involved. On the other hand, it makes our writing more cryptic and our wit much sharper. Technology will breed the next generation of brilliant writers.
Jess’s response was immediate:
—Enjoy your day. I’ll call you this evening.
I texted back:
—Terrific, enjoy your day!
... and sent a smiley face emoticon.
That had to be the dumbest move ever. Avlene, you’re crazy, sending an emoticon to an accomplished writer. Good one! I was sure the writer in him was just cringing right about then. I could almost hear Jess saying, “No emoticons. Use your words. That’s why we have words. Words, Avlene, will never fail you, so use them!”
He texted back quickly, saying what I was thinking.
—C’mon Aver, don’t be lazy. Emoticons? Really? You’re such a funny girl!
Well, I was beginning to know him. I realized I looked like a goof standing in the movie ticket line laughing to myself. I must have laughed loud, because I got another text saying:
—For heaven’s sake, I can hear you giggling from here! Are you laughing at me, or what?”
I whirled around, but I didn’t see Jess. Then another text came:
—I see you! You look nice.
I still couldn’t find him. I must have looked lost, like a deer caught in the headlights. Could he actually be there?
—Look forward, sweetie. About fifteen people in front of you. His voice boomed through the crowd: “She’s with me!” Finally, I saw him.
He beckoned me over with a grin. “You’re always late,” he said with a laugh.
People stepped aside as I approached him.
“You really know how to create a scene,” I greeted.
“Of course I do, I’m a writer! It’s my job to create scenes. I just didn’t see this one playing out the way it did. But I’m happy to see you.”
“I presume because this is a one-screen theatre we are seeing the same movie. What are the odds we would run into each other again in a city this big?”
“Do you usually have Tuesdays off?”
“Yes, especially if I work overtime or go in to finish deadlines on a Saturday. I also use all my lieu days and take Tuesdays off. Long story short, well... Yes, I’m off nearly every Tuesday.”
“Great! Tuesday is my favorite day of the week.”
“I like to watch independent films and the eight-buck morning special on Tuesdays,” I said. “You can’t beat it.”
“I guess we have a lot more in common than I realized. I’m glad we get to spend some more time together. Going to the movies alone is boring.”
“Oh, I hear what you are saying,” I said. “I go to the movies alone all the time, almost every Tuesday. Why do you like going to the movies?”
“I like people-watching,” he said. “I look at all the people in line, the people on the streets, and I imagine what their lives are like. It tends to make me a better writer, and the more I go out and observe, the better my characters are. I also people-watch in bars. In fact, some of my funniest characters have developed from people I’ve observed in bars.”
“That’s really fascinating,” I said with wonder in my voice. “I would probably be too afraid to go into a bar or a club. I never thought of it as an exercise that could enhance your storytelling abilities. So, let me get this straight: if you were a painter, this city would be your inspiration?”
“Exactly. The city provides me with all the inspiration I need. It’s quirky, but its loads of fun to people-watch. I mean, even the subway is a fascinating place.”
“It sure is a different way of appreciating this city. I’m almost speechless just considered it, Jess, and I can assure you that’s a rare occurrence.”
When we arrive at the booth, Jess tried to buy my ticket. “Oh no, that’s okay,” I told him. “I can buy my own ticket.”
He laughed and bought mine anyway. I thanked him, albeit sheepishly.
“Is it okay if I sit with you?” I asked.
“No way, Aver. I’d rather be alone, so I can concentrate on the film.”
My face fell. “Oh... Yes, of course.”
He grinned, squeezing my hand affectionately.
God, I’m such an asshole.
“I like to tease,” he warned, “and you have to get used to that. Why would I have called you up the line and bought you a ticket if I wasn’t hoping to sit with you?”
I’m sure I had a look of confusion on my face; sarcasm was difficult for me to understand sometimes. You see, when you live with anxiety, that constant sense of self-doubt, it’s easy to believe that the worst is happening.
As he spoke, he made a point to look into my eyes. “You’re okay with me, Aver. I want you to sit with me. You know how happy I was to see you here in the line? Oh, honey, I am sorry if I offended you. It was just a joke. A bad one, apparently.”
“To be honest, Jess, your sarcasm scares me. I have a difficult time interpreting what’s real and what’s a joke sometimes.”
“Then I won’t do it anymore. I’m sorry, Aver.” He cupped my face with his hands. “I mean it, I’m sorry.” His soothing voice had a way of making everything all right. “Okay, on a lighter note, do you want some popcorn?”
"Thank you, but no, I just had breakfast not too long ago.” “You did? Tuesdays are your big go-out days?”
“Right. I had breakfast at my favorite diner in Midtown.” I told him all about Dave and what he meant to me.
“It’s good to have friends that are like family to you,” he said. “I know the thought of having dinner with me almost made you pass out... but what if we went to Dave’s some time? Would you feel comfortable there?”
“Dave just asked me this morning if I would bring you around. He’d like to meet you if we turned into a regular thing—you and me, that is.”
He smiled. “Wait, you’ve talked about me already?”
“Umm... Have I just broken a serious dating rule?” I joked, hoping to save face. “Easy to do when you have no idea what they are. I’m so far out of my element it’s not funny. I told you I always say the wrong things. I’m just a dumb girl.”
“You’re not dumb, Aver. You’re honest to a fault, and I love that about you.”
I had a knack for saying the wrong thing. But he had a talent for helping me through it. “I guess we could go to Dave’s. I’d like him to meet you, and yes, I would be comfortable having dinner there.”
“Okay, it’s a date, then!” Jess laughed.
We entered the theater, finding it nearly empty.
“There’s hardly anyone here!” he noted
“I know, right? I told you: Tuesday mornings are quiet. Most people are at work.” Gesturing around, I said, “I love the ambiance of the old Hollywood feel to this theater. It’s just a super-cool place.”
The movie Lion was excellent. Family is everything, and being a girl without a family, wishing I had those bonds, I understood the main character’s plight. It hit so close to home that it brought me to tears.
“Jess, what did you think?” I asked him once the credits rolled.
“It was very moving. I can’t imagine being that little boy and being so scared. I admire human tenacity. It was an excellent story and a true one at that. Really makes me thankful for what I have in my life.”
“Yeah, it was terrific!”
“I’m glad I got to see it with you,” he said.
“It was unexpected to find you, and definitely out of my routine,” I admitted. “Usually, I over-plan everything and drive myself a little crazy. But I was happy to see you too. This was fun.”
“For me too, Aver. It was awesome to see you there at the back of the line. That was a definite surprise. But tell me, do you feel like doing something else? Something spontaneous? Don’t freak out. You’ll have a day to prepare. I promise.”
“Alright, I’m game,” I said without thinking. “What are you thinking, Jess?”
“Tomorrow, let’s you and I have dinner together at your favorite Midtown diner. I could meet Dave, and it wouldn’t be as tense of a situation for you. Let me sit on the hot seat while Dave grills me. What do you think, sound fun?”
“Yes, that would be great! But I have to warn you: I’m the kind of girl who likes eating breakfast for dinner. Odd, I know, but it fits in with the rest of my quirks.”
“Eat whatever you want. I’ll be happy as long as you’re there.” “Don’t worry, the diner does have a regular dinner menu for Dave’s normal patrons,” I teased. “I just happen to order off the breakfast menu because breakfast is the perfect all-day food.”
“Ok, then. How about, say, six o’clock in the evening tomorrow? Is that enough time?”
“That gives me plenty of time. Oh... I have to tell you where it is.” “I know where it is.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
He failed at hiding an impish grin. “To be honest, I saw you there this morning. You were with another woman. Had the bright window seat that faced the street, and when I saw your big beautiful smile, I knew it was you. I couldn’t believe it; we live in one of the biggest, most overcrowded cities in the world, and I keep running into you.”
“Serendipity, I suppose. Okay, I will meet you there at six tomorrow.”
“Enjoy your day, Aver. I’m heading back to the office, try to focus on some work.” He kissed my cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
As I walked the streets, heading toward Bergdorf Goodman, I thought how funny life was. A week ago, I didn’t even know Jesse existed, and now he consumed my thoughts. It was all thanks to a failed audition. Sometimes, life’s bitterest disappointments can turn into the sweetest things. At the time something bad happens, we may not understand why we’ve met with failure, or why certain opportunities have passed us by, but often it’s because something better is lurking around the next corner.

Home

Home
https://amzn.to/2L4zfaO
Keren Hughes
Author’s Note: This story is part two of a duet. To fully understand the characters, you should read SAFE first.
HOME is Drew’s story after meeting Elise in SAFE. The beginning is set six months later and is still told in dual point of view. We find out more about his past and what makes him who he is.

Prologue

Broken. Battered. Bruised. Neglected by the people that should have loved me the most. They say a parent’s love for a child is unconditional. They say a parent is a protector, there to nurture their children. Pity the same couldn’t be said about mine. My mother lacked the supposedly natural maternal instincts; my father was too wrapped up in himself to be paternal. Neither one of them was any use to anybody. They only ever cared about themselves. Chasing their next high, selling everything we owned of any value so that they could pay off their dealer … that was their life. My life? Well it was … not a ‘normal’ childhood. It was—to me—at the time. I didn’t know any better. It’s only now as a grown man that I can accept that things weren’t right back then.
Love was something I knew nothing of. It was a foreign concept to me. I never received it, so how could I learn to show it to anyone else? What I thought of as love turned out to be toxic, so I’ve gone about my life without opening my heart. I’ve used travel as a coping mechanism for the longest time. As soon as I was old enough to leave school, I got a job and started saving every spare penny I could. I didn’t want to become anything like my parents. I’ve always wanted better for myself. I pushed myself to excel at school. Studied hard, stayed away from parties where there would be drink and drugs. I didn’t want to turn out to be some washed-up junkie, so I made the best of everything offered to me.
Becoming a paramedic was the one thing I really wanted to do when I grew up. I’d always wanted to help people. I knew without a doubt that I wanted to try and make a difference in the lives of others. It was my way of trying to make up for my parents wasting their lives. I thought it was my job to try and make amends for what they had done. Who I was making amends to, I wasn’t sure, I just felt like I had to do something. Those two people were the biggest waste of space, nothing but a big black void that sucked the life out of everything around them.
When my parents abandoned me, I felt lost. I had nobody to guide me. I ended up in care until social services could track down my maternal grandparents. My father had forced my mother to stop speaking to her parents somewhere along the way and I had grown up not knowing them. They took me in when I was fifteen and it was a very bumpy road for a while there. I wasn’t a bad kid—I don’t think—it’s just that I wasn’t used to rules and curfews, love and affection. I was used to having to do everything for myself. I always fed myself, even if it was just stale bread and a can of out of date soup. My damn parents never had much in the way of food in the house. I couldn’t go to a food bank because then people would know what I was. What my parents were. As for clothes, that’s a laugh. I used to have to go to the cashpoint for my mother; she got to a point where she couldn’t even remember her own pin number, her brain was that drug-addled. I’d draw out what little benefits she got, I’d pay the bills, try to put a little food in the cupboards, but clothes were things I took from the lost property box at school or bought with what little of my mother’s money I was able to set aside. I remember thinking it was better to have uniform for school than it was to eat because I didn’t want people looking at me in ratty clothes and making fun of me or, worse still, the teachers catching wind of there being trouble at home. As much as I detested my parents, I didn’t want to end up in the system, so I did all I could to get by. I ate dinner at school every day; that was something my mother’s benefits afforded me—free school meals.
As it turned out, being in the system wasn’t something I could avoid. The day my parents overdosed was the day I could no longer hide what was going on.
Questions about my life began on that fateful day and, where I’d once kept everything bottled up, I felt I could finally unburden myself on those who were intent on helping me. It took a few days to track down my mother’s parents because they lived in another county to us and I hadn’t known anything useful about them to tell social services. They finally found them and placed me in their care. The foster family I’d had had been nice enough. In fact, they couldn’t do enough for me. I just didn’t know what to do because that wasn’t what I was used to. Clean clothes, clean bedding, food in the cupboards, hot running water … I wasn’t used to any of those things. People who cared where I was, what I was doing … I wasn’t used to that either. It was all so alien to me.
When I moved in with Edie and Albert—or Pops, as he liked to be called—I was so out of my depth. I didn’t have to go and withdraw my mother’s money to pay the bills and make sure we had electric so I could wash my clothes. I didn’t have to go to bed hungry; I could eat until I was fit to burst. Edie and Pops were so openly affectionate towards me and each other, it was unusual for me to see such a happy couple that weren’t wasted, jonesing for their next fix. Edie wasn’t gaunt in the face like Miriam had been. I could see a light in her eyes that had never been present in Miriam’s. She was a very naturally maternal woman. Pops was gruff, strict, made sure I knew to be home by curfew—not that I had many friends to hang out with anyway, I just used to tell them I did so they didn’t have to pity me—but he was loving and had the energy of a man ten years younger.
I learned about love from Edie and Pops. I finally knew what it was supposed to mean. I just still hadn’t felt it. Yes, I’d felt familial love for my grandparents, but that’s not the same, not even remotely. I wasn’t sure I was ready to love anyone anyway. I was still so young and had so much of my life ahead of me. I could really work towards my goal of becoming a paramedic now that I had a stable environment that was conducive to studying. Edie and Pops gave me everything they could, but, as soon as I left school, I attended college and got myself a job so that I could pay my own way. They never would take a penny from me; they told me to put it aside for when I really needed it. So that’s what I did. I worked my ass off, really busted my balls studying and working. Then, when I finally got my diploma for higher education in paramedic sciences, I found I had to bust my balls even harder so that I could get an advanced driving qualification. Pops paid for me to have driving lessons when I turned eighteen. We’d argued about it of course—I’d wanted to pay my own way—but he and Edie wouldn’t hear of it. So I studied hard for my theory and practiced often with Pops so I could pass my practical test. Driving an ambulance is totally different. For a start, you get taught evasive manoeuvres. That bit was fun though, I will admit.
When I decided I wanted more than to be a paramedic—I wanted to pursue search and rescue, maybe water rescue—Edie and Pops were there for me every step of the way. But that’s not to say it was easy. I still didn’t trust people easily and I didn’t have many friends outside of work colleagues. I worked my ass off to learn what I needed to so that I could join the search and rescue team. I spent a while with water rescue after that. All the time, I was putting money aside for my future.
Pops and Edie helped me get a deposit together for an apartment of my own. It was a modest, two-bedroom place in a new build that wasn’t far from their home. They also bought me a car when I turned twenty-one. I splurged and bought myself a motorbike. Edie was worried for my safety, but Pops told her the same thing I did—having learned everything on that advanced driving course, I’d be okay. I still wasn’t used to being cared about, even after all the years Pops and Edie had been in my life. They were the only two people I let close. Until Elise Swanson. But she broke my heart, so I put my apartment up for rent while I took the first of what would be many trips overseas. Travelling became a crutch I leaned on heavily. I could be by myself—which is how I liked things—and I got to see some incredible sights.
My life was finally turning itself around. My hard work was paying off. I had two people who acted like my parents. I had a great job and was finally opening myself up to being friends with some of the other lads on the job.
That’s one thing the job makes you do—you learn to trust and rely on your partner. It’s a necessity in a job like mine. That’s how I met Danny, Luke and Seb. They even came travelling with me sometimes.
I’d just started working at a new hospital and became friends with one of the nurses, Sam, when she said she wanted to set me up on a blind date. I kept saying no. I didn’t want a relationship and random hook-ups were only good for so much. I didn’t want to hurt her friend, knowing I didn’t know how to give anyone my heart.
The walls around my heart were so tall. You couldn’t climb over them, you couldn’t dig a way underneath them. Impenetrable. That’s what they were. I had to be bulletproof. What was the use in loving someone when they’d fuck you over one day, one way or another? I mean, my own parents were the prime example of that. When they were still alive, they beat me for spending money on the bills instead of letting them have more for their habit. They neglected me to the point where I retreated into myself to protect my sanity. They broke me. I thought that my life was slowly piecing me back together, that I was finally on the right track; but I still didn’t have time for a woman.
Sam had other ideas. She showed me a picture of her friend. That red hair was what caught my attention first. My mind flashed back to red hair splayed over my pillow, smelling like shampoo and something that was impossible to name. Drawing my eyes back to the picture on Sam’s phone, I looked over every inch of the woman. She was beautiful, the purest kind of beauty. Red hair, blue eyes, creamy skin … more tattoos than I remembered, but I was sure it was her. I asked Sam her name and, when she told me, that was when my heart beat for the first time in years.
I walked into the bar and saw her immediately. She was everything I remembered and more. That smile as she saw me—it was shy and endearing. A range of emotions flitted across her face and the instant our gazes locked my heart beat for the second time in years. All those old feelings rushed to the surface. Her blue eyes shone brightly and her lips were painted a soft pink. She looked gorgeous in black leggings and a purple tunic style top. As beautiful as she ever was; just the sight of her had my heart beating a little faster.
I knew in that moment, just as I know today, Elise Swanson was going to become my home.
Chapter One

Drew

I’ve been looking forward to tonight for the last two weeks. I haven’t spent time with my wife, just the two of us, in too long. In reality it’s only been a couple of weeks or so, but it feels so much longer. Work has been hectic and, with a six-month-old baby, an eleven year old son and Elise returning to work—even if it is only part-time—we haven’t had any alone time. When we had Cassie, we promised each other that we’d still have ‘date nights’ so that we had some time as Drew and Elise, not just mummy and daddy. I love our children and I love our life, but I also like it when we get Sam and Karl to babysit so we can go to the cinema or for a meal. So many people make the mistake of not making time solely for each other and it leads to marital problems, hence why Elise and I made the promise.
Elise has been diagnosed with mild postnatal depression. It hasn’t affected her bond with Cassie, but it has impacted life in general. She loves our daughter just as much as I do and she is the best mum I’ve ever seen, but there are times when she feels depressed and I make sure to help her the best way I know how. Counselling has helped and, though she didn’t want to at first, she’s accepted taking medication until the doctor says she doesn’t need it anymore.
Elise is such an amazing woman and it’s hard for me to see her feeling so down at times. She suffers from anxiety, so that doesn’t help the situation either. She feels like she isn’t a good enough wife or a good enough mum. I need her to know that she’s wrong. I need her to know how much she means to me, to our family.
The deep purple wraparound dress she’s wearing looks incredible. I rake my eyes over her body, from her head to her painted toenails. She has a great figure—not supermodel stick thin, she’s curvy in all the right places with voluptuous breasts. The dress accentuates her cleavage, but not to a trashy level, in fact, she looks divine. My cock twitches in my boxers and I suddenly don’t feel as hungry as I did moments ago—well, not for food anyway.
I’m pretty sure I’m looking at her the way a man on death row looks at his last meal, salivating and making a fool of myself. Suddenly I’m picturing what she’s wearing underneath the dress, impatiently awaiting the moment I get to strip it from her and make love to her. I thought our sex life might diminish slightly after Cassie was born, but I was wrong. She’s as insatiable as she has always been and the salacious grin across her face right now proves she’s having similar thoughts to me.
“My eyes are up here, Drew,” she says softly.
“Hmm…” is all I can manage to respond.
My gaze locks with hers and I see a twinkle of mirth in her beautiful blue eyes.
“Does my bum look big in this?” she asks as she twirls on the spot.
“Don’t be daft. You look … incredible.”
Why is it every woman is obsessed with their bum looking big in something?
“You don’t scrub up too badly yourself, Mr Wright,” she says, as she makes her way towards me.
I stand and pull her into my arms. The material of her dress feels so soft and silky, but it’s nothing in comparison to the feel of her naked flesh against me. I feel like a hormonal teenage boy right now.
People say we’re just in ‘the honeymoon period’ and it’ll wear off soon, the newness of it will rub off and we’ll be left like every other couple out there. But I know in my heart we aren’t like that. I’m going to feel this way about her forever. I feel it soul deep.
Leaning down, I slant my mouth over her soft, full lips. It’s a sweet kiss, soft, gentle, our tongues dancing rhythmically. My cock stirs to life and I break away before I sweep her off her feet and carry her to our bedroom, lock the door and never leave.
“Hey, it’s a good job LipSense is kiss-proof,” she says with a touch of sass as she pulls a compact mirror from her small clutch to double check and reapply her lip gloss.
What is it with women and their cosmetics? Personally, I like seeing lipstick marks around my cock, but I guess that’s not what it’s about.
Checking the time, I grab my car keys and turn to my beautiful wife.
“We’ll miss our reservation if we don’t get a move on.”
“Two seconds,” she says as she taps something out on her phone. No doubt it’s a text to Sam to make sure Cassie is okay.
Tonight is the first night Cassie will be staying elsewhere overnight. We haven’t left her with anyone except for a couple of hours here and there. We’re both nervous, but I trust Sam implicitly.
Putting her phone in her clutch, Elise walks to the front door, putting an extra sway in her step to tempt me, knowing I love her sexy ass.
I take her hand and walk out to the car. A smile spreads across my face as I imagine her surprise at what I have in store for our anniversary tonight.
***
The private room at Olive Garden looks beautiful. It’s draped in golds and reds with plush comfortable seating and a table set for two. There’s a bucket with a bottle on ice and a waiter standing to one side, ready to pour our first glass.
Elise’s eyes light up as she turns to look at me. From the smile on her face, I can tell she likes my surprise.
On the drive to the restaurant I didn’t tell her where we were going, and she knew better than to keep pestering me for an answer. She knows I’m stubborn and I wouldn’t tell her and risk ruining our evening.
She sits across from me and I see her eyes shine in the candlelight. Her hair looks lustrous as it falls over her shoulders in long red curls. She really is breathtaking.
“This is so beautiful,” she remarks, as the waiter takes the bottle and pours us both a glass of champagne.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
A blush creeps across her chest at the simple compliment. She’s still not used to being told how beautiful she is, even after how long we’ve been together.
We order our food and, when it arrives, it tastes divine, but I can’t help wanting to rush so that we can get home faster. I know it’s our first night without both kids and that I should slow down and savour the moment, so I sit and watch Elise as she talks about the food and the atmosphere here.
I feel a shiver run through me as Elise runs her foot up the inside of my leg. My cock twitches once in response and it’s all I can do not to scoop her up caveman-style, throw some money on the table and race back to my car.
She runs her foot up to my thigh and I groan involuntarily. As her foot reaches my groin, I have to hold myself back from clearing the table in one fell swoop and taking her right here, right now.
Her eyes twinkle mischievously as her foot flexes against my semi-hard cock. She knows just what she’s doing and the delight is evident on her face. I want to move back out of her reach just to see what she’ll do, but I can’t tear myself away from her touch. My lips can form no words, only soft moans.
Her foot shifts abruptly as the waiter re-enters the room. A slight blush spreads across her face as if she’s been caught. Her eyes dance with silent laughter and I discreetly rearrange myself under the cover of the table.
***
We can’t get home fast enough for my liking. I’ve had a great evening, but now I need my wife naked beneath me. For once, we don’t have to lock the bedroom door to stop Caleb accidentally walking in on us. There’s no need to turn the baby monitor on to keep tabs on Cassie.
The house is silent as we open the door. I tell Elise to take a seat in the lounge while I fix us a drink. After pouring her a glass of rosé, I back out of the room with a smile on my face.
Hurrying up the stairs, I pull the bag out of its hiding space, glad that she hasn’t found it. I start placing things where I need them to be. I make sure the iPod is connected to the Bluetooth speaker and turn the volume so that it’s playing softly in the background. I light some candles and scatter rose petals across the bed and the floor. Walking out of the bedroom door, I sprinkle a few more petals from the doorway and down the stairs.
As I walk into the lounge I look at my wife and my heart beats faster in my ribcage, so fast it feels like it’s trying to break free from its constraints. Her red hair spills over her cleavage and her lips part on a sigh.
She places her wine on the coffee table as she sees me approach. Her eyes assess me like she’s trying to figure what my game is.
“Time for an early night, sweetheart,” I tell her in a gentle tone, but one that brooks no arguments.
Elise stands and gives me a soft kiss, but I pull away before she can do much more. I take her hand in mine and walk to the bottom of the staircase.
A soft sigh escapes her as she sees the rose petals. I urge her up the stairs ahead of me. The soft music plays through the bedroom door and I can hear Curtis Stigers singing ‘You’re All That Matters To Me’.
I open the door for Elise and watch her face light up as she sees the room before her. I’ve been planning tonight since I swapped shifts with Danny so that I could have the night with my wife.
“Drew, this is—”
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because I slant my mouth over hers and gently probe her lips with my tongue, seeking access to deepen our kiss. Goosebumps break out on my skin and I feel the hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end. One touch from her still makes me feel giddy. One touch sets my very soul on fire. I know that we were made for each other and that this is the life I was meant to live. Before Elise came along, my life was more of an existence. But now? Now I am truly alive and I want to make the most of every nano-second of it.
Breaking our kiss, I take her hand and lead her to the bed. I turn her to face me and gently edge her back until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she sits on reflex. I move to remove her shoes; holding her leg in my hand, I place a trail of kisses from her ankle to her knee. She shudders under my touch and I smile to myself.
As I kneel at her feet, I move her dress to one side to kiss further up her legs and am shocked to find that she’s wearing no panties, the little minx. I can’t help the growl that escapes me and the light laughter coming from her means she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. My cock twitches to life and I undo my zipper because it’s straining to be free. I slide my palm down over my shaft to appease the ache, but it only fuels me more when Elise lies back on the bed, her legs spread, showing me her glistening pink pussy.
I look up at my wife sprawled out on our bed and wonder how the fuck I got this lucky. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her, but I’m damn sure I’m going to make her as happy as she makes me, every day for the rest of our lives.
Sliding my hands up her thighs, I feel her legs quiver under my light touch. I’m not big headed when I say I know what effect I have on her.
A long sigh escapes Elise as I make my move, licking her once. Hands come to my hair and I move to lick her in languid strokes. She whispers a string of expletives as she writhes on the bed.
Palming my cock again, I find no relief. It’s begging to be inside her. But I can’t give in to those urges. I need to see her fall apart from my touch first. I slip a finger inside her and Elise arches her back off the bed. Her warmth is too inviting, so I slip a second finger inside her and feel her buck against my hand, matching my rhythm. Her hands in my hair pull my mouth closer to her, silently pleading with me to give her what she needs. I’ve never been one to say no when it comes to this woman, so I finally give in and move to suck her clit.
“Fuck, Drew…I…”
She doesn’t need to say more for me to know what’s coming. Her walls tighten around my fingers and I increase the pace of them inside her.
“Baby, I’m…I’m going to…”
Hooking my fingers to hit that sweet spot over and over, my baby comes so hard that her legs quake either side of me and her body shudders. I withdraw my fingers and lick her once more, slowly.
Standing over her, I watch her come up to her elbows on the bed. She watches me as I remove my trousers and pull off my shirt. When I’m naked, I take my shaft in my hand and see her pupils dilate as she watches my every move. I jerk my hand up and down a couple of times, pre-cum glistening on the tip. I can’t wait any longer to be inside her. It’s a primal urge, screaming at me.
Elise stands and pulls her dress over her head. She undoes her bra—the only underwear she was wearing—and discards it on the floor. But, just when I think she’s going to lie back down, she grabs a pillow to put under her bad knee and kneels at the foot of the bed.
What my baby wants, my baby gets, so I lie down in front of her and open my legs for her to kneel between.
As she grips my shaft in her hand, I can’t help the groan that escapes my lips, or the involuntary smile that graces them. Leaning up on my elbows, I see a wicked gleam in Elise’s eyes as her tongue darts out to lick the pre-cum from my tip. Her tongue swirls and a delicious feeling spreads throughout me.
Her hand and mouth work in tandem, bringing an almost euphoric feeling with them. She takes me deep in the back of her throat and I moan loudly as she gently cups my balls. I feel a tightening sensation and know I am not far from my own climax. I’m torn between the need to be inside her and the need to come down the back of her throat. My body betrays my mind as she grips me firmly and her mouth moves up and down over me. Moments later, I feel myself come in hot spurts down her throat, coating her tongue. Her name is like a prayer and a curse on my tongue as I shout it out into the night.
As she licks the tip of me clean, she smiles that salacious grin of hers. I help her onto the bed and lay her beside me.
We’re wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs. I’m sated, yet not nearly sated enough. I’ll need a few minutes to be ready to go again. Real life isn’t like you see on television or read about in romance novels; I can’t just be ready at the click of my fingers, much as I wish I could. But, in this moment I don’t care. I’m lying here with my beautiful wife in my arms, knowing there’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be.

Tracing circles on her back with one hand, I cup the other to her cheek and draw her in for kiss. What’s meant to be a soft, sweet kiss turns into more. Elise’s mouth claims mine in a fiery, passionate kiss. I feel like she’s all I need to breathe and, for a moment, I feel dizzy, hypnotised by the power she wields. It’s only when I lose myself completely in Elise that I find myself. The emptiness inside me fades and disappears. She fills the empty parts of me and breathes new life into them. It’s in moments like this that I understand what it means to have a soulmate. Her soul calls to mine—maybe because we’ve both had so much hurt in our lives and our souls recognise that in each other. It sings its siren song and I am powerless to resist it. But I find that I wouldn’t want to resist it, even if I could.
***
After a night of making love to my wife time and time again—including around three a.m. when she woke me and stirred the desire flooding my veins—I wake up in her arms. I catch a glimpse of sunlight shining down on her face and I take a moment to appreciate her natural beauty. She’s relaxed in sleep and looks peaceful. For once, she won’t be woken by Cassie and I don’t need to be at work until this evening. Moving to cup her breast in my hand, I run my thumb over her newly pierced nipple. I was shocked when she had it done a few weeks ago but now I love it. Almost as much as I love her tongue piercing. Her breathing changes and I know I’m drawing her from her slumber. Maybe I’m a selfish prick and should have left her to sleep for once, but I’m hard and horny. Plus, she woke me at three this morning, so it’s only fair to get my payback.
Leaning down, I trace circles around her nipple piercing with my tongue. I feel her gently tug my hair to bring my face up to hers. The look in her eyes says she doesn’t mind being woken so rudely and I’m guessing she wants to make the most of our kid-free time.
I claim her lips with mine and gently coax them open with the tip of my tongue. The kiss starts soft and sweet, but Elise soon deepens it. It’s passionate, intense and breathtaking.
A soft hand gently takes hold of my cock, the contact making me gasp and shudder. I feel like a teenager being touched for the first time. As I harden, she grips me more firmly and rubs her finger over the tip, smearing the pre-cum that glistens there.
Her kiss is more fervent and I can feel my heart pounding. I roll us so that she is beneath me. I want so much to be buried inside her—it’s like an ingrained need. Sex isn’t just sex with us, it’s making love. Whether it’s a ‘quickie’ or something more, it’s always done with all the love my heart has feared feeling for so long. I kiss my way along her jawline to her ear where I nip her gently and carry on kissing down to the hollow of her throat before moving further down to the swell of her cleavage. I take one taut nipple in my mouth whilst I brush my thumb over the one with the piercing. Feeling Elise’s hand in my hair—her silent plea for me to bite her just the way she likes—I gently bite her nipple. The moan it elicits makes my cock ache. Slipping a finger between her folds, I find her wet and ready for me. I’ve never asked why, but she likes being bitten, sometimes I’ve even left her with a sort of bruise or lovebite.
Gently I push one finger inside her, making her arch her back slightly off the bed. I know I’ve hit the spot when she moans loudly, so I add a second finger and hit the spot with a touch more force.
“Drew…” she says on a sigh.
“Yes, baby?”
“Harder.”
Just that one word from her makes my pulse spike. I work her harder and faster, sucking and biting her nipple before crashing my mouth to hers. Feeling her walls tighten around my fingers, I know what’s going to happen. I rub my thumb over her clit and within moments, she’s coming in waves.
Positioning myself over her, I see her watch as I lick the essence of her from me. There’s something about me doing that which makes her horny as hell. I feel the wicked grin spread across my face and see it reflected in hers.
Her soft hand reaches down to guide me into her. She’s impatient this morning, but then so am I.
I push into her, wanting to hold back and make her wait, but at the same time not wanting to wait a moment longer myself. It’s inexplicable how she feels around me. The best word is intoxicating. I’ll never stop wanting her and never get enough of her

His Perfect Submissive

His Perfect Submissive
https://amzn.to/2E8ywDV
Alyssa Aaron
Chapter One

Kara hated waiting.
She perched nervously on the edge of the gray leather chair in the tastefully decorated reception area and waited for Slade Westin to return to his office. The spacious waiting area was decorated in shades of cream, teal, and gray. Watercolor paintings of skyscrapers, malls, and office buildings complete with perfect landscapes and glass vestibules graced the walls. The décor was rich, pleasing, and designed to impress.
Coming up with a way to raise the money her brother had embezzled hadn’t been easy. She’d spent half the night crunching numbers and calculating. The figures hadn’t lied. If she took the maximum cash advances on her credit cards and borrowed against every cent in her 401k, she’d be able to come up with exactly fifteen thousand, half of what her brother had stolen from Mr. Westin.
She’d taken the day off work and come to his office without an appointment. She planned to sit in his office until he gave up and saw her, or had her arrested for trespassing, whichever came first.
Whether she made any headway or not she had to try, one last time to make him see that he would gain nothing by going to the police. She hoped coming in person and having some cash, as a down payment, would go a ways in changing his mind.
If it didn’t? She wouldn’t let herself go there. She couldn’t. The ramifications of failure were too great. Her mother would be beside herself. The stress of having her son on trial and then having him in jail would be a lethal blow to her mother’s already failing health. While she knew her brother was spoiled, immature, and way too impulsive for his own good, she loved him. No matter how much he might deserve whatever he got from Mr. Westin or the police, she just couldn’t stand by and let him go to prison. Especially, if she could do something, anything, that would help.
Slade exited his private elevator and strode into the reception area of his office. His receptionist, Leanne, had dyed her hair a shocking red today. He smothered a grin. Changing her hair color was her latest form of rebellion against the corporate dress code, and he secretly enjoyed her mutinous protest.
Leanne looked up and reached for a stack of messages. “Ms. Hastings is here to see you, Mr. Westin,” she said, handing him the messages.
God, deliver me, Slade thought with a sigh. He knew what she wanted. He didn’t want to play. He’d already made it abundantly clear that he intended to turn the matter over to the police and let them sort out the details.
He thumbed through the stack of messages, knowing he didn’t have much choice about seeing her. She was sitting in the reception area and had probably overheard Leanne tell him she was waiting. Still, he wanted to put off the inevitable as long as possible.
He turned and headed toward his office, hoping for a smooth getaway. “Mr. Westin?” a soft female voice asked.
“That’s me,” Slade answered turning toward the voice with a resigned sigh.
“I’m Kara Hastings. We talked on the phone yesterday. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this.”
He lifted his gaze from the stack of messages he’d been sorting. His annoyance at her intrusion dissolved as he allowed his gaze to glide over her.
Innocent. The single word echoed in his brain, reverberating like a sharp kick to some buried part of his soul. The descriptive encompassed her and described her perfectly, yet left plenty of room for expansion into the many layers he sensed buried beneath her surface.
He let his eyes linger on the soft waves of dark hair that hung loose around a pretty face with a pert nose. Her peaches and cream skin glowed softly making his fingers itch to touch the soft line of her cheek and the full swell of her lip.
Her soft musky perfume teased his nostrils as her wide brown eyes skittered away from his. They echoed a hint of shyness and sadness that didn’t quite detract from her attractiveness.
She was dressed simply in black slacks and a white sweater that hung off her shoulders. The soft folds of the sweater brushed the full softness of her breasts before drifting downward to skim full rounded hips. The thick folds ended precisely at her knees.
Some would consider her overweight, but he found her softness perfect. She was rounded and soft in a way that had him reining in thoughts of plunging hard maleness into female softness.
The shy way she waited for him to take the lead stirred the sensation of deep protectiveness in him.
“Come on back, Kara,” he sighed, going against his own better judgment, which clamored distantly in his mind.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Westin,” she said softly as she followed him down the hallway toward his office. Her voice was smooth as caramel and just as sweet, he thought as he paused to open the door before ushering her inside.
Sexy. The word hung in his mind baffling him. It’d been three years since he’d allowed himself to think of sex or of anything remotely connected to it.
“Have a seat, Kara,” he offered as he sat down behind his desk.
He rested his elbows on the desk, heaved a sigh and tented his fingers as he studied her. His first inclination had been to reiterate his plan to turn her brother’s case over to the police and send her on her way but something about her, the sweetness, and the buried sadness in her eyes tugged at him, and God help him he wanted to help her.
“I told you yesterday that your brother’s case was a matter for the police. So far I haven’t heard anything that has changed my mind about that,” he said.
Her expression tightened, and she bowed her head. “I know you said you weren’t interested in taking payments but— Is there any chance you might change your mind about it?”
He felt a jolt of sympathy. She was sweet and innocent. He knew it hadn’t been her that had inflated expenses and pocketed the difference. It bothered him to see her cowed in shame.
“It will take me a few weeks but I can get advances from my credit cards and borrow against my 401k. I can give you fifteen thousand as a down payment on what my brother stole and pay the rest in payments.”
“Kara,” he sighed, wanting to punch her brother’s lights out for bringing shame on her. “My problem with taking payments isn’t the money itself. I could afford to forgive the money entirely and it wouldn’t change my standard of living even a little bit.”
“If it’s not the money, then why not take the payments and move on?”
“It is not the damned money. I won’t get the money back by going to the police, at least not for a long time.” His voice came out harsher than he intended and laced with the frustration he felt toward her brother. Ted was talented, and, up until the accounting department had brought the questionable numbers to his attention, he had planned to promote him.
“What did Ted do with the money?” he asked his voice softening. “Any chance he still has any of it? “
Kara shook her head and dipped her chin. There’s that shame again, he thought. “He got caught up in gambling again. He’s had problems before and I should have known he was in trouble when he had money, but I didn’t.” She shrugged, her voice small and filled with guilt. “Things were really tight financially and I was just glad he was finally getting things together and was able to help out a little.”
Damn it to hell. He hated gambling and the pain it caused its innocent victims. Remembered sadness filled him as he recalled his fourth birthday and the excitement that had fired his blood as he’d looked forward to a real party, with friends from Sunday school and balloons and everything. In the end, the party hadn’t happened. The sheriff had shown up and hauled the family’s meager belongings to the curb, and in the struggle to find another place to live, his birthday party had been forgotten. It hadn’t been the first or the last time his family had been evicted due to his father’s gambling the rent money on a horse that couldn’t lose or a football game that was a sure thing.
Slade leaned back in his chair and sighed. He wondered what financial obligations Kara was struggling under that her brother was shirking.
He felt the stirring of dominance he’d worked to bury and an irrational desire to protect her from the pain gamblers brought on their families.
He studied the blunt tips of his tented fingers. He could take the worry of her brother going to jail off her shoulders. He didn’t have to go to the police. Helping her would cost him thirty thousand dollars, but it was a doable solution. He could afford the loss. Not going public with the embezzlement scandal would save a lot of negative press and questions around how her brother had managed to skim thirty thousand dollars without being immediately caught.
Financially, it was probably a wash. If the negative press cost him even one contract, it could easily cost him hundreds of thousands more than the thirty thousand her brother had taken.
He liked Kara. She stirred his protective instincts and made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in a long, long time.
Still, gambling was an addiction. If her brother was addicted, he probably needed to be allowed to hit bottom. He worried that without the threat of jail Ted would continue to gamble until he was in so deep he couldn’t get out, and that would be worse for Kara in the long run.
“What about your parents, Kara?”
“My dad is dead. Her head was tipped forward, her eyes focused on her lap. “Mom has heart disease and emphysema. She doesn’t know about Ted’s— problems. I don’t want to tell her if I don’t have to. Sh-she is not well and I’m afraid that the stress of a trial would j-just be the end. The doctors say she doesn’t have l-long and I don’t want her last to be—” She sucked in an audible breath and bit her lip before rushing on. “Well—you know what I mean—”
Slade thought for a minute she was going to cry and didn’t know what he’d do if she did.
He was spared from further consideration on the matter when the intercom on his desk buzzed. “Mr. Westin, Mr. Blake is here.”
“Put him in the conference room, I’ll be finished in a minute.”
“I’m sorry to intrude on your day,” Kara said softly.
“It’s not a problem, Kara,” he said and meant it. “Ted has created one hell of a big mess. I don’t know yet what I’m going to do about it, but you’ve given me a lot to think about. When I’ve made a decision I’ll let you know.”
He stood and Kara followed suit. “Thank you, Mr. Westin. I appreciate your kindness and your willingness to at least think about meeting me half way.”
“You’re welcome, Kara, but don’t thank me yet. I’m not guaranteeing you any outcome at this point.”

Chapter Two

Slade stirred and woke with a start. He’d been dreaming of Kara. The musky floral scent she wore still teased the sleep-tinged corners of his mind and the soft, husky tenor of her voice still filled his ears.
Between the cobwebs of remembered sleep and the scattered pieces of dreams he’d dislodged when he woke, there was the solid knowledge that he wanted her.
Through no intention of her own, her sweet, innocent nature had breathed life into long forgotten places. After she’d left his office, he’d felt a sexual tug toward the natural dominance he’d buried. In one short meeting, she’d managed to nudge to life all the dominant feelings he’d buried after Susan walked out.
He propped one arm behind his head, completely awake now. Kara’s untapped submissive quality mystified him and left him wondering how he’d managed to miss it at first. The signs were obvious in retrospect. It had been plain in the way she’d waited for him to take the lead in his office and again in the way her gaze had kept scooting away from his.
Kara didn’t ooze sexual confidence. Certainly not the blatant form of tie me up, beat me, and make me suck your cock submission that Susan had. Kara’s passive quality ran deeper than that and seemed more a part of her true nature than Susan’s had ever been. Susan had played a role, always trying to realize what she perceived dominance and submission to be while Kara was submissive at her core.
It was odd to realize after so many years of carrying around bitter disillusionment, that what he’d thought was real with Susan had been little more than wishful thinking on his part.
Susan had been a scorcher, a candle burning at both ends. She had never wanted love or protection. She’d wanted only dominance. To her, domination wasn’t a combination of give and take. She wanted only the limit pushing extremes of pain and humiliation. Even when they’d made love, she’d always wanted it rough.
The more he’d given in to her desire for the rougher side of dominance the more she’d wanted. Finally, he’d bumped up against his own hard limits. They’d come to an impasse in the relationship when she’d wanted him to cut her and he’d refused. The relationship had deteriorated after that, and she’d ended things within a few weeks.
The end of the relationship had left him disillusioned. He’d dated for a while after Susan, but the women he’d met had either not been submissive at all or had been into playing at submissiveness, or they had been seeking the extremes like Susan. He’d dated a few that were more interested in his wallet than in him and that had gotten old too. There had been no one that had aroused the desire to protect and dominate that Kara had incited within just a few minutes.
The whole dating game had left him disheartened. After a while he’d stopped believing that there was anyone who wanted the same things he wanted.
Meeting Kara had stirred hope within him. He’d noticed the difference within himself right away. Susan’s desire for rough sex had made him want to push limits and force her submission. Kara’s sweet, sexy innocence made him want to wrap her in pleasure and shelter her from ugliness.
He let his mind wander as he thought about what he wanted. An image of Kara in his kitchen, wearing pink fuzzy slippers and his terry robe came to mind. Her hair was tangled and tumbled around her face as she stirred cream into his morning coffee.
As that image receded, he saw her lying on the couch in front of a blazing fire. Her head rested on a pillow in his lap, the rest of her stretched out on the couch. The firelight cast dancing shadows across the soft planes of her face. The woodsy smell of the fire mingled with the musky woman scent of her, teasing his nostrils. She stretched, pulling silk pajamas taut across her hips and breasts as she turned to look up at him. Her gaze was filled with such trust and adoration that it left him reeling.
He looked down at her, his expression a combination of indulgence and dominance as he stroked her soft breasts that swelled against the peach silk of her pajamas. She moaned, softly, her dark eyes fixed on his, as she arched into his palm. “Oh god, that feels so good,” she moaned in a soft, husky voice that made his cock twitch. Her soft whimper of pleasure when his fingers found and stroked her hardening nipples made him feel powerful and protective.
He imagined her beneath him then, her soft brown eyes fixed on his as he fucked her. In his mind’s eye, each deep, hard thrust of his powerful body drove them both toward a crescendo of pleasure and onward to shattering orgasm. She clung to him, her eyes open as she willfully submitted her body and her soul to his mastery.
He wanted her. The knowledge struck him hard, then settled into him with a sensation of rightness that he couldn’t ignore.
He didn’t want to wait to have her, didn’t want to waste time playing dating games. He didn’t need to date her to know that he wanted her, not as a one-time deal, not temporarily, but forever.
As he thought about the situation with Kara and her brother, an idea began to form. He could use Ted to force her to marry him. He was almost certain she would agree to marriage, even one that seemed strange to her, if it meant her brother wouldn’t face the threat of prosecution.
He sighed as the plan formed in his mind. He would offer to forgive her brother’s theft and not turn over the evidence he held against him if she agreed to marry him. He would make forgiveness of the money dependent on her staying married to him for one year and on Ted getting treatment for his gambling addiction.
He needed the year to show Kara that a relationship based on his control and her willing surrender was what she wanted too. He wanted her brother to get help with his gambling problem. The last thing he needed was for him to get in more trouble with the law. He knew that if Ted continued on the same course, at some point neither he nor Kara would be able to drag him out of trouble. He wouldn’t stand by doing nothing and see Kara hurt again.
He didn’t feel particularly good about using the situation with her brother to force her into a marriage she wasn’t ready for, but he believed that in the end the marriage would be good for everyone concerned. He would have Kara in his life and eventually in his bed. She would be protected from her brother and would be well loved and cared for. Ted would escape prison and be forced to get the help he needed. All in all, it wasn’t a bad solution to the mess that had been dropped in his lap.
The big question looming in his mind was how Kara would react to his proposal. He knew she was inexperienced with men and he expected her inexperience to give her serious misgivings, especially considering he was almost a stranger. He knew too that if he were to be fair to her he would have to explain that their relationship would be based on dominance and submission.
***
She picked up the phone on the second ring, swallowing a mouth full of hot coffee before she muttered hello.
“Kara?”
“Yes.” She put her mug on the counter as her mind scrambled to place the voice on the other end of the line. The deep voice was familiar, yet she couldn’t immediately place it.
“This is Slade Westin. I hope I’m not waking you.”
“No, Mr. Westin. I’m awake. I have to get up early for work.” She hadn’t expected him to call quite so soon and now that he had, she didn’t know whether to be glad to hear from him or worried. His voice gave her no clue as to what his call meant for her brother.
“Good, I’m glad I didn’t wake you.” She thought she detected a smile in his deep throaty voice and felt a tendril of relief wash through her. “I think I have a solution that will be acceptable to both of us.”
“You do? Really? That’s wonderful.” She felt truly happy for the first time in the weeks since her brother had told her about the trouble he was in. “What is it?”
“It’s rather—involved. I’d rather go over it with you in person. Can you meet me at my office this morning?”
Kara glanced at her watch. “I think so, but I’m supposed to be at work this morning and I’ll have to call and get someone to cover for me.”
“No, don’t go to the trouble. Can you get away for lunch?”
“I usually get lunch at eleven-thirty.”
“That works.” His voice carried a hint of mastery as if he’d set out on a mission and had accomplished it. She realized taking charge of situations was probably something he did all the time. She knew most people didn’t get to the top of their professions by taking a back seat, letting others make decisions for them.
She didn’t mind that he seemed comfortable taking control. In fact, she liked it. It was nice to not have to make the decisions and chart the course for everyone else for a change.
“I’ll take you to lunch and we can talk,” he said.
“Thank you—for everything, Mr. Westin.” She let her voice trail off conveying the smile she felt.
“You’re welcome, Kara. I hope you feel the same after we’ve talked.” His voice carried a certain softness she hadn’t sensed in it before. “Now, where do you work?”
She gave him the name of the vet clinic and directions. He told her he was familiar with the area and that he’d be there by eleven thirty.
Kara spent the morning wondering what sort of solution Slade had come up with and hoping that it was a workable one. But then, she knew she’d do anything to keep her baby brother out of jail.
Kara was busy holding a cat for a blood draw when she heard the chime that announced that someone had entered the clinic. She recognized Slade’s deep rich voice as he asked for her at the reception desk. She heard the receptionist tell him she was with a patient, and that she’d be with him in a minute.
Her heart kicked up a notch. Her stomach felt queasy with pent up nerves.
The vet finished drawing blood and Kara returned the angry cat to its carrier before heading for the waiting room.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Things are always busy and unpredictable around here.” He stood near the bulletin board with his hands in his pockets, looking as if he belonged in the office.
“Interested in a kitty?” she asked noticing that he was looking at the ‘free cat to good home’ flyer tacked to the bulletin board.
He shrugged broad shoulders. “I like cats, but I’m not exactly jumping over myself to get one,” he quirked a smile, “although I don’t doubt that I could be talked into it if the right person was doing the talking.”
Is he flirting with me? she wondered. She felt off balance by the prospect. She never flirted, didn’t even know how really. What had happened when she was seven had made her distrustful and uneasy around men, and she avoided them as much as she could.
If she hadn’t needed Slade’s help with her brother’s situation, she wouldn’t have agreed to see him. She was going to lunch with him only because they needed to talk about Ted and resolving his mess.
“We’ve got a couple nice cats in the back that are looking for homes,” she offered. She felt completely confused. She wasn’t sure if he had been flirting, and if he had been, she didn’t know what she should do about it.
“ Maybe someday,” he allowed. “Where would you like to go for lunch?”
“There’s a nice sandwich shop around the corner from here. They have good soups too. Otherwise, it’s pretty much fast food alley.”
“The sandwich shop sounds fine. You direct and I’ll drive.”
Once they were seated in the comfortable gray leather seats of his Cadillac Escalade, she gave him directions to the nearby sandwich shop.
“So, what’s your plan?” she asked as soon as he had maneuvered the big SUV onto the road.
“Patience, Kara,” he smiled. “I’ll tell you everything in good time.”
She shrugged and fell silent. He sensed the distance immediately. He’d hurt her feelings, made her uncomfortable, he realized. “So, what do you do at the vet clinic, besides try to give away cats?” he teased, trying to smooth over the hurt feelings.
“I’m a vet tech,” she answered softly as he turned into the parking lot and found a parking space near the front of the restaurant.
God, she’s shy and skittish. She’ll never agree to this, he thought.
“Do you like being a vet tech?”
She smiled glancing down at her hands. “I love animals so it’s almost a perfect job for me.”
“Almost?”
“The times when we lose a patient or have to put one to sleep are hard. I hate that part of it.”
“What about the cats you have at the office? Will you have to put them to sleep if you don’t find homes for them?” he asked. No wonder she’s trying to give cats away, he thought, already contemplating taking the cats to keep them from having to be put to sleep, and more honestly, to spare Kara from that part of her job.
“No, we work with a couple of no kill shelters in the area. If we can’t find homes for them, we can place them with a shelter.”
“That sounds like a good solution.”
He turned off the ignition and took the keys. Their conversation was forgotten as they climbed out of the SUV.
Kara got out quickly, not waiting for him to come around and open her door. He waited for her at the front of his vehicle and held the restaurant door open for her.
They stood at the counter, reading the overhead menu. “What do you recommend?” he asked.
“The turkey melt on rye is my favorite, but the pastrami is also very good.”
Once they had given their order and found a seat in a quiet corner, Slade slipped into the role of negotiator. It was a role he played often and one he was good at.
“I suppose you’re dying to know the particulars of the plan I’ve come up with.” He offered her what he hoped was a disarming smile.
She nodded, taking a sip of her drink.
“Well, it’s unconventional, but it meets my needs and,” he drew in a deep breath, “I think it meets yours too.”
Kara nodded, and a strand of dark hair fell over her shoulder. Her dark eyes were fixed on his. She looked fragile, practically swallowed by the navy blue surgical scrub pants and top she wore.
“I don’t like the idea of you borrowing against your credit cards and your 401k. It’s not sound financially. It would put you in debt and you told me last time we met that you’ve already had a hard time financially. It’s also not fair to you. Your brother should pay back the money he stole. But, even if I did agree to it, it would only take care of half the problem. You’d still have monthly payments on the balance. With payments on the 401k loan and the credit cards and payments to me, I’m afraid it would only make it difficult for you. It’s not an acceptable solution.”
“Mr. Westin, things have been hard because of my mom’s medicines; they cost a lot. But I assure you that I will pay you. I’ll get another job if that’s what it takes. I’ll do what I need to in order to keep my brother out of jail.”
“Your brother should be the one who pays the money back. I know you think it’s a good thing to help him out, but rescuing him isn’t teaching him anything. It’s allowing him to continue his behavior. Even if I was willing to take payments from Ted, payments and interest on thirty thousand would be pushing it for him, especially now that he doesn’t have a job.”
The look on her face told him that her brother’s unemployed status was news to her. But he plunged on. “I’ve decided to forget about the money, but there are a couple conditions.”
“Oh Mr. Westin , that’s wonderful, but it doesn’t seem fair to you.” She was looking at him, her deep brown eyes shadowed with regret.
“I’m happy with the solution,” he assured.
“Well—what are the conditions?” she asked hesitantly.
“First, that you stay out of my way and let me deal with your brother on my own terms. He won’t get around me as easily as he does you. Second, your brother goes to regular gamblers’ anonymous meetings. And third, you marry me.”
Kara shook her head as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “What?”
He covered her small hand with his much larger one, ignoring her attempt to pull away. He rubbed the soft skin where her thumb joined her palm. “You heard me correctly. I want you to marry me, Kara. It’s the price for forgiving your brother’s theft and for not turning it over to the authorities.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes, Kara. I’m serious. If you agree to marry me and your brother agrees to treatment for his gambling, I’ll rehire him into a position where he can’t get his hands on any money. He’ll be getting the help he needs, avoid jail, and have a job. You won’t be trying to pull everything together by yourself anymore. I’ll take care of you. I won’t be alone and that’ll make me happy.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“I like you, Kara. You have an aura of sweetness and innocence that lights my fire.”
“Mr. Westin!” she hissed. The way she looked around to see if anyone else had overheard and the pink that tinged her cheeks made him smile.
“Call me Slade, Kara.”
“Slade, then.” He heard her deeply inhaled breath. “I don’t understand what you’d get out of this. I’m fat, I’m not rich, and I’m afraid I don’t know what to do with a fire once it’s lighted. I-uhm, I’ve never—uhm.”
She blushed a deeper red and looked at the table as if she was thinking about crawling under it.
“You’re not fat. You’re beautifully proportioned; besides, I like my women to have something to hold onto.” He let his eyes wander, taking in the smoothness of her skin, the squared shoulders and the soft rise of her breasts, barely discernible beneath the scrub top she wore. I don’t care that you’re not wealthy. And I know you’ve never been with a man.” He caressed her hand again, “I knew when I looked up from the messages and saw you standing there in my office yesterday.”
“You did?” Her voice was tinged with horror. “Is it that obvious?”
“Not to everyone probably, but it was to me.” He let his eyes caress her, wishing he could pass some of the certainty he felt about the marriage on to her. “Don’t worry, Kara, I’ll teach you everything you need to know about tamping my fires.”
“It’s—umm—it’s not just not knowing—umm—what to do.” Given the way she was hemming and hawing and the bright red of her cheeks, he figured she was glad to be saved from further explanation by the arrival of their sandwiches. He waited for the waitress to leave before continuing.
He left his sandwich untouched and plunged on. “There are a few things you need to know about me before you make your decision.”
He watched the uncertainty that flitted across her face as he searched for the right words to describe what he wanted.
“I know it’s not politically correct, but what I want is an old fashioned marriage, one in which I take the lead.
“It’s important that you understand that, if you agree to become my wife, our marriage will be built on my control and your submission to my authority. That doesn’t mean I won’t discuss things or that I won’t take your opinions into account, but it does mean I’ll make the final decisions.
“I’ve dated spoiled, obstinate women in the past and there’s no room in my life for that. I won’t do daily battle with my wife about who is going to make which decisions, nor will I put up with sullenness and temper tantrums. I’m laying it out from the beginning. I wear the pants and I make the decisions.”
He watched her face, unable to tell what she was thinking from the closed expression she wore. He continued on, taking it as a positive sign that she hadn’t gotten up and walked out.
“One of the reasons I think it could be good between us is that you don’t seem willful or spoiled. You seem submissive and I like that. A lot. But even so, I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding later. If you were to marry me and behave like some of the women I’ve dated,” he sighed, “you probably wouldn’t like the outcome much.”
She shifted uneasily in her seat and avoided his gaze. “Exactly what do you mean by that?” she asked, her attention focused on the straw wrapper she was twisting into a tight coil.
“I know it’s not politically correct, but what I mean is that if the situation warranted it, I would use physical discipline, like spanking or bondage, to keep you in line. I won’t put up with a spoiled wife.”
He watched her abuse of the straw wrapper intensify. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I’m not a crazy and I’m not into abuse. I would never physically injure you, but I am capable and would not hesitate to put limits on undesirable behavior.”
He searched her pale face, wondering if his honesty had scared her away. From her death grip on the straw wrapper and the tight line of her jaw, as she fixed her gaze on the table, he figured he was pretty close. Much as he would have preferred to stick to white picket fences and rose gardens, his own sense of decency had required him to be upfront and honest with her about his expectations for their marriage.
“If you agree to become my wife, I’d expect you to quit your job. I’d want you to be able to devote your time and energy to taking care of our home and me.”
“I couldn’t just quit my job, even if I wanted to. I pay part of my mother’s medical expenses, and if I didn’t she’d have to do without some of her medicines, and she can’t do that. I can’t quit my job even to save my brother, Mr. Westin.” She bowed her head and he sensed her defeat in the sudden droop of her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“Kara,” he dropped his hands over hers. “I wouldn’t expect you to quit your job and leave your mom in the lurch or do without yourself. If you were my wife, I’d take care of you and that would include taking care of your mother’s medical expenses. God knows I have enough money. You wouldn’t want for much. Neither would your mother.”
“It sounds like you’d be getting the bad end of the stick on this whole arrangement,” she said. He watched as she shifted in her seat and raised her gaze, pinning him, her expression watchful as she continued. “You’re suggesting all this because my brother stole money from you, but you’re not going to recover any of the money and in fact you’re going to spend even more money taking care of me and my mother. From a financial standpoint, it doesn’t make any sense, Mr. Westin.”
“Slade,” he corrected. “It makes perfect sense, Kara. I have simple needs. I’ve already told you, I want an old fashioned marriage and an obedient and submissive wife. I want an enthusiastic partner in my bed and someone to explore sexually with me. Truthfully, I’m tired of being alone, and I’m willing to turn loose of some money to get the kind of wife and marriage I want. There isn’t anything shady or behind the scenes going on. I’ve told you what I want and relinquishing some money to get it makes perfect sense.”
Kara stared at him, unseeing, her blood cold, her sandwich forgotten in front of her. She opened her mouth to speak several times but closed it again without having uttered a single sound.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me or of marrying me. I know you are inexperienced, and I’ll be patient with you. I’m not selfish, Kara. I’ve been around the block, and I know how to make a woman feel good in bed.”
“Slade.” The single word squeaked out after a false start. Her stomach churned and her brain raced through everything he’d just said. She felt as if her emotions had been stripped bare and left ragged. She knew that all the patience he could muster wouldn’t be enough.
“Yes, Kara,” his voice was gentle, prompting.
The idea of agreeing to surrender herself to him was overwhelming. He’d said she didn’t need to be afraid of him that he’d be patient, but he didn’t know she was damaged.
Misery swelled within her. She needed to come clean, to tell him the truth about her past. She needed him to understand that the unreasonable panic that overtook her when a man stood too close, or when an unexpected whiff of familiar aftershave caught her off guard, was a part of her, and was something she could not escape or predict.
It was too much to expect anyone to understand the sudden panic that could wash over her or the mortification that followed, yet she knew he had a right to know. She swallowed hard and tried to gather enough saliva to wet her dry mouth. She still couldn’t force the words past the shame that lodged in her throat. She knew intellectually that she bore no blame for what had happened to her when she was a child, but the knowledge did nothing to stop the intensity of the shame, or the pain that lived deep within her.
“Kara, are you okay?” he asked. His voice nudged her back to the present, to the reality of the situation in front of her, to the necessity of keeping Ted out of jail.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She felt completely overwhelmed, empty.
She could promise to be obedient, to clean his house, to be there when he came home from work. She could even quit her job if he insisted, but there was absolutely no way she would ever be the enthusiastic uninhibited partner he wanted in bed. She was too damaged. There was nothing about sex that even mildly intrigued her. That part of her didn’t exist. It had been snuffed out before it had had a chance to develop.
If she agreed to marry him without telling him the truth she’d be deceiving him, purposely making a promise she knew she could never keep. It would be the height of dishonesty, and she despised deceit.
He’d gone out of his way to help her and she hated herself for the deception she was going to commit. But, more than she needed to be honest with Slade, she needed to keep Ted out of jail. Tears clogged her throat and threatened to spill. She felt bleak and hollow. She wanted to cry lonely, sad, shame filled tears, yet she knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t. She picked up her sandwich, more to distract herself from the intensity of her emotions than because she wanted to eat.
She took a bite and chewed methodically, not even tasting the turkey on rye. Swallowing helped push the hard ball of tears down and made her feel a little more in control of her ragged emotions.
Guilt kicked at his chest as Slade watched the tangle of emotions that chased across her pale face. She seemed lost in some deep, sad place and he ached to take back every word that had caused her pain.
After a few bites of her sandwich, she seemed to draw on some inner reserve. She looked at him. Her gaze was solid and unwavering as it found and held his. “Mr. Westin—Slade, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my brother.”
Here it comes, she’s going to turn me down, he thought as her gaze skittered away.
“I know you could have turned everything over to the police and we could be looking at a trial and lawyers. If marrying you is what I have to do to keep my brother out of jail, then I’ll do it.” She sucked in a deep breath.
“I would like your word that the details of our marriage and Ted’s part in it will not be disclosed to anyone. I also want your word that the—umm—nature of our marriage will remain private.”
“You have my word, Kara.”
“And you have mine that I’ll do my best to be the kind of wife you want. But I really don’t know how this can be what you want.”
Her words socked him hard. This quiet resolved reaction wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was her to be happy about marrying him. He didn’t like making her unhappy, but then again he hadn’t expected her to be excited about marrying him. He’d known from the beginning that making her happy would come later, after they were married. Once Kara trusted him, knew him, he’d teach her the joy to be found in surrendering herself to him. “You’re right. It’s not what I really want. But it’s a start, and I’ll settle for it.”

Her Sister’s Keeper

Her Sister’s Keeper
https://amzn.to/2rpmrCK
Leslie McKelvey
Chapter One

A woman’s terrified scream pierced the still night air. Juliet Hall stutter-stepped and went absolutely still. Then she chuckled when she realized the unearthly wail had come from the TV, which sat close to the partially opened window inside the quaint bungalow she shared with her sister, Cassie. She saw the telltale bluish light from halfway down the front walk and heard the melodramatic music that was typical background noise for the ending credits of most horror movies.
“Probably watching Friday the 13th again,” she muttered. “I love you, Cass, but your taste in films is deplorable.”
She sighed softly as she mounted the three narrow porch steps to the cottage. The porch light was out, but the bulb had been flickering when she’d left. Another incandescent gone to an early grave. Memo to self, ask Mr. Hobbs to use a fluorescent next time, or spring for one on your own. Juliet pulled her keys from her purse and opened the screen door.
She moved to insert the key and the door whispered open with nary a sound. Juliet froze. An icy claw materialized inside her chest cavity and sharp talons seized her lungs, holding them captive and refusing to give even an inch. The light in the tiny living room was on, casting barely enough light to override the glow from the TV. She paused on the threshold, unmoving and silent, and when nothing jumped out at her those invisible, iron-like fingers released their hold enough for her to draw in a ragged breath. Her heart thumped uncomfortably and a flash of anger warmed her.
“Cassie.” She pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer, such as it was. In front of her was the narrow staircase that led up to the two bedrooms and the one full bath. To the right of the staircase was the hall that led back to the kitchen and half bath. To the left of the stairs through an arch constructed during the time her mother had been a tot was the living room. From here all seemed normal, quiet, but normal. Her anger sputtered. Juliet took another breath then closed and locked the door.
“Cassie, you left the door unlocked again. How many times must we go over this?”
She moved to the foot of the stairs and looked up, but the second level was dark. A glance down the hall revealed none of the telltale light beneath the swinging door that led to their closet of a kitchen. Chills fanned over her skin and her pulse picked up several notches. She strained to hear something, anything over the steadily increasing beat of her heart.
“In local news, a Seattle man is in custody for . . . .”
Juliet tuned that out. After the noise of the bistro the cottage was quiet, suddenly too quiet, creepy quiet. Cassie hadn’t been feeling well, which was why Juliet had taken her shift at the restaurant, but her sister didn’t have laryngitis or anything that would compromise her vocal abilities. No, those she possessed in spades, most often to Juliet’s dismay and embarrassment. And the fact that the TV was on and Cassie wasn’t sitting in front of it was odd. Reruns of the sitcom, Friends, came on at 11:00 p.m., and Cassie never missed an episode. Even though the show had ended years ago, her sister was still hopelessly in love with Matthew Perry.
“Okay, Cass, this isn’t funny anymore.” She walked down the narrow hall and through the ancient kitchen door, the hinges moving nearly silently as she flicked on the light. The bungalow had been built in the 1950s, but her landlord was a meticulous man who was quick to respond to any sort of issue with the aging cottage, even squeaky hinges they hadn’t complained about. Once in the kitchen a sharp, metallic, singed smell assaulted her nostrils and anger flared back to life when she saw the blue flames beneath the tea kettle. The fact it wasn’t whistling told her it was empty, yet the stove continued to burn, gray skeins of smoke curling lazily from the spout and beneath the dented, metal lid. Juliet turned off the burner and turned on the vent fan. “Damn it, Cassie. Are you trying to burn the place down?”
The kitchen had two doors, the one that led in from the hall and the other that opened into a small breakfast nook connected to the living room by another graceful wooden archway. The first level of the two-story cottage was basically an oval, with the stairs at the center. Juliet stuck her head through the opposite door and looked around, but the eating area and the living room were empty. With an irritated huff she retraced her steps and mounted the stairs.
When her sneaker-clad foot hit the fourth step it slipped and she shot a hand out to grip the banister, barely preventing a tumble back from whence she’d come. “What the hell?” She looked down at the polished wood. There was a dark splotch on the sturdy oak and in the residual light from the lamp in the living room it looked like chocolate syrup. First the door, now this. Heat expanded inside her chest and she didn’t bother to hide the irritation in her voice.
“C’mon, Cassie, we agreed no food upstairs. We just got rid of the mice!”
Juliet backed up a step and reached for the switch that would illuminate the second floor landing and thereby the stairs. Nothing. Her anger receded a tiny bit and apprehension shivered through her like a dark mist. She knew it was ridiculous, she’d seen it done a thousand times in movies and had rolled her eyes, yet she couldn’t stop herself from flipping the switch several more times. Nope, you got it right the first time. The light doesn’t work.
That dark mist of apprehension solidified a little, cold tentacles forming and searching through her midsection with icy, menacing intent. She clutched a hand to her stomach, as if by doing so she could dissipate the chill gathering and expanding there. Reaching into her purse she retrieved a miniature flashlight and although the light was small, the illumination it gave off was not. The bright, glaringly white glow from the LED sent shadows scurrying out of the way. It also showed her that it was not chocolate syrup on the stairs.
The dark coldness inside her went from fog-like to a solid mass in less than a heartbeat, encasing her heart and lungs. Her eyelids fluttered as she bent down and touched trembling fingers to the sticky, crimson smear bearing the pattern of the sole of her shoe. She looked up several steps and nausea roiled when she saw more of the same. Her diaphragm spasmed, forcefully expelling her pent up breath. She dropped the light and her purse, fear surging through her. Taking the steps two at a time she raced to the second floor, following the blood trail.
“Cassie!”
Juliet crashed through Cassie’s door, but the room was empty. Her clothes were scattered about, as they always were, and her bed was unmade. Nothing looked amiss, but something was dreadfully wrong. Juliet could feel it, and it was a feeling that was all too familiar. Panic rose, followed by nausea.
“Answer me, Cass!” she called as she flew to the bathroom. The image of Cassie taking a relaxing bubble bath with her headphones on made hope burst in her chest. Cassie could have cut herself shaving, which would explain the blood on the stairs since they kept the first aid kit in the kitchen where it was most often needed. If that was the case she’d first kiss her sister, then throw her damned cell phone and earbuds into the water, and forbid her to ever shave her legs again.
When the bathroom, too, proved empty the wave of reality and dread that stormed over her almost buckled her knees. Juliet braced a hand against the doorframe and stared at the only other door, her bedroom door. That was when she noticed the pale, golden glow barely escaping through the narrow crack beneath the panel. It was too faint to be incandescent or even fluorescent, but she knew what it was, and she knew it shouldn’t be there.
Despair rose up in her and tears formed as a pained, whispered, “No,” escaped her. She took a step and her legs trembled. The light coming from under the door flickered and she gripped the stair railing, her muscles refusing to move. What if he was still here?
Deal with it, Juliet, she told herself. You’ve always been the strong one. Now is NOT the time to chicken out. There’s still a chance . . . .
Juliet closed her eyes, her lungs struggling to expand against the ever-tightening band of terror winding around them. Her chest was painfully taut, her heart drumming against her sternum in wild staccato. She started when she heard small, pained whimpers echoing in the hall and her head snapped first in one direction, then the other, her eyes searching frantically for the source. The soft, plaintive cries continued, and she realized they were coming from her own mouth. She pressed her lips together and held her breath. When her throat started to burn she inhaled sharply, then focused on the door and forced herself to move.
The latch hadn’t engaged so when she pressed a hand against the heavy panel it swung easily inward. Juliet froze in the doorway. She blinked several times, her brain unwilling and unable to process what she saw. When her synapses finally fired she dropped to her knees, silent sobs clogging her throat. Her jaw worked soundlessly and tears obscured her vision. Grief stormed over her like horses hooves, sharp, cutting, and relentless as she stared, unable to tear her eyes away.
“Oh, Cassie,” she whispered. “Oh, God . . . no . . . !”
In the glow from more than a dozen candles Cassie’s golden hair glittered like sunlight, her tanned skin burnished and iridescent. Those Caribbean blue eyes that were usually so full of life and laughter were focused on the ceiling, unblinking and unseeing. Juliet doubled over as the pain roared through her like a legion of chainsaws, razor-like teeth ripping mindlessly through flesh, bone, and anything else in their way. Juliet stared at her sister’s lifeless body, her eyes taking in the bound hands and ankles, the rose petals scattered over the comforter, the dark splatters on the walls and ceiling, the burgundy blood pooling on the floor beneath the mattress. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, and then she saw the words printed so neatly on the wall in what must have been Cassie’s blood.
IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU.
It was then she started screaming.
***
The sound of screeching tires drew her attention and she turned her head toward the sound. Detective Daniel Riordan flew out of the nondescript sedan outfitted with blue and red flashing lights. White hot anger boiled in her belly and exploded upwards, nearly blinding her. She launched herself from the porch.
“This is your fault!” she screamed. A nearby police officer looped an arm around her waist, but she put up such a struggle that he signaled for help. “You said he wouldn’t bother me anymore!” Tears filled her eyes and they slid down her face as she fought against the policemen. “Now Cassie is dead, and it’s your fault!” She realized the two cops weren’t going to let her go and stopped struggling, but the rage continued to seethe. “Wow. That restraining order you suggested did a great job of protecting me. Too bad it didn’t cover my sister!”
Anguish snuffed out her rage and pulled her into a whirlpool of frigid darkness. She sagged against the officers. Unfortunately, the shadows only made her last image of Cassie blaze with Technicolor clarity. The neon pink of the sheer, baby-doll negligee glowed with eerie brightness. She was naked from the waist down and her legs spread wide, each ankle tied to a bedpost. Her hands were tied in a similar fashion at the head of the double bed with colorful scarves, a wide strip of thick silver duct tape covering her mouth. Her throat had been cut from ear to ear, a wound that summoned death in less than a minute. Unfortunately, she knew Cassie’s death had not been so quick, and had probably been far more painful. Her sister’s body was an angry, bleeding roadmap of cuts and lacerations, purposely inflicted for torture’s sake alone. She sank down on the bottom step of the porch, tears obscuring her vision.
“Juliet, I’m so sorry . . . .”
She dropped her forehead onto her knees and wrapped her arms around her shins. “Just go away!” she screamed. Sharp, rending pain blossomed in her chest, as if her heart was being ripped slowly and excruciatingly down the middle. “Please . . . !” Her voice broke and sobs erupted. She heard him sigh heavily and then his footsteps took him away.
How had this happened? Why Cassie? For more than a year George Mayfield had stalked and terrorized her, but he’d barely even glanced at her sister. Even when Cassie had gotten in the man’s face it was as if she was invisible; his eyes had been for Juliet alone. The knowledge that Cassie wasn’t the first to die at Mayfield’s hands only amplified her grief. Her diaphragm contracted violently and she fought to breathe as the memory exploded into blazing, Technicolor life in her mind’s eye.
“That son of a bitch!”
Juliet glanced up from her latte and was taken aback by the anger in her sister’s usually smiling face. She followed the direction of Cassie’s gaze and her heart froze. Bright cobalt blue eyes set beneath black, slashing brows watched her with an intensity that was now familiar but still terrifying. He stood across the street, the long overcoat tailored to fit his tall, fit physique, hands clasped neatly in front of him. Most women would find his striking, James Bond-type looks desirable, but the only emotions he inspired in her were cold fear and sheer panic. The restraining order forbade him from getting within 500 yards of her, and across the street from the quaint coffee shop at Pikes’s Place Market was well within that distance. She reached for her cell phone but Cassie was already on her feet and striding toward the man.
“What are you doing here?” Cassie demanded. Mayfield didn’t even look at her and Cassie stood toe to toe with him. “Answer me, you bastard!”
A faint smile curved his mouth as he continued to look over her sister’s head. Swallowing her fear, Juliet forced her feet to move. She ran up behind Cassie and grabbed her arm but Cassie shook her off. Juliet gasped when Cassie planted both hands on Mayfield’s chest and shoved for all she was worth.
That’s what it finally took to get his attention. He stumbled backwards but quickly regained his balance. His brows rose and eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at Cassie as if she’d just materialized out of thin air. He blinked, stared at her for a few seconds, then his eyes swiveled back to Juliet and his previous expression returned. Juliet felt the blood drain from her face and her heart hit the cement.
That was the only time Mayfield had given Cassie more than a passing glance, and that had been more than three months ago. Now, he’d done more than glance at her sister. He’d killed her. Sorrow wrapped tightly around her middle and forced deeper, harder sobs from the depths of her soul.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Cass,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry!”
Not your fault, Juliet. At least now it doesn’t hurt anymore.
***
“You should have protected her. She was your baby sister, and she worshiped the ground you walked on! Where were you?”
Juliet stared at her mother in shock.
“Helen,” her father said, easing down on the edge of the hotel room’s king-sized bed, “that’s enough.”
“Enough?” Her mother gaped at him. “Cassie would never have come here if not for Juliet, Bill!”
Her father rose. “I said enough.”
Juliet crossed to the window of the high-rise hotel and pressed her forehead against the cool glass. She had known her mother would blame her; some things never changed. Juliet had been five when Cassie was born, and her mother had told her it was a big sister’s duty to watch out for and protect her younger sibling. Oddly, Juliet had never minded the responsibility. While growing up she had not been around enough to do much watching or protecting. Regardless, people often joked that she and Cassie were so close they were like twins born five years apart, and those people were right. She and Cassie finished each other’s sentences, they could decipher what the other thought or felt with just a look, and Juliet couldn’t remember the last time they’d fought, despite the fact they had lived and worked together for nearly four years. Grief scorched through her once more, turning her heart to ash. It was almost more than she could bear.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered. Tears burned and it felt like a cannonball had just punched through her, leaving a gaping, bleeding hole in her torso. “I’m so sorry.”
Her father stood at her back and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Juliet, this is not your fault.”
She closed her eyes. “Yes, it is, Dad.” A strangled sob escaped her and she fought not to remember. “I should have . . . sent her back to California . . . I should have . . . gotten a gun . . . done something to make sure she would be safe . . . but I never thought he’d go after her.” She covered her face with her hands. “I should never have left her alone.”
Her mother’s voice cut with the cold sharpness of a scalpel. “No, you shouldn’t have.”
“Helen.” Her father’s voice had taken on an edge that was in itself a warning.
“We’ll be taking Cassie back to San Diego,” her mother continued, as if her husband hadn’t spoken. “Say your goodbyes now, because I don’t want to see you at the funeral.”
Juliet heard her father’s sharp inhale. She turned and stared at her mother, tears blurring her vision and anguish rushing through her in jagged, radiating waves that shredded her insides.
“Mom . . . !”
“Helen, you don’t mean that.”
Her mother rose and straightened her spine, tears sliding down her cheeks as she fixed Juliet with a blistering glare. “Yes, I do. Cassie is coming home with us, and you, Juliet, are no longer welcome.”
Juliet hadn’t thought her heart could hurt anymore, but as her mother’s blue eyes bored into hers that shredding sensation grew sharper. Then she felt the freeze. She knew it was her brain’s reaction to a perceived deadly threat, but she welcomed the numbness. Still, her throat closed up and for a couple seconds she couldn’t draw breath.
A glance at her father only increased the chill. He was shocked, she recognized the anguish in his eyes, but she knew he’d never go against his wife. Her mother wore the pants in the family. She always had. If not for that fact, Juliet would probably have had a more normal upbringing. The tears fell and she wiped them away.
“I love you, Mom,” she whispered after several long, taut moments. “You, too, Dad.” She walked to the door and grasped the handle. “I’m sorry.”
More tears didn’t come, much to her surprise. Even after her parent’s hotel room door closed behind her, her eyes stayed dry. A heavy sigh escaped her and she started walking.
She hadn’t really cried since the night Cassie died. Every time she thought of her sister she got teary-eyed, but before the weeping could begin in earnest her brain seized up and choked off the waterworks. Eventually the dam would either burst or she would completely shut down, that much she was sure of. Right now the latter seemed the best option.
I’m sorry, Jules. You didn’t deserve that. I love her, but Mom can be a real bitch.
“I know, Cass,” Juliet said softly. “I know.”
This wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kill me, Mayfield did.
Now the stinging started. “I know, little sister.”
Don’t let her get to you.
“Easier said than done.”
Juliet walked to the elevator, pushed the button, and waited for the car. In movies and TV shows, it would be at this point that one or both of the misguided parents would chase her down, sorrowful and repentant. The mom and/or dad would apologize, everyone would burst into happy tears, and they’d all embrace. Roll joyful music with ending credits here. Juliet didn’t even look. Her mother wouldn’t apologize, ever, and her father might, but not here and only if her mom wasn’t watching. Juliet loved her dad, but his spine only moved in the direction her mother chose. Cassie was right. Her mom could be a bitch.
Juliet walked through the lobby of the hotel without really seeing any of it. Her brain was in tumble-dry mode, meandering, meaningless thoughts spinning to distract her from the emptiness in her soul. She made her way to the elevator that led to the parking structure, knowing Detective Riordan would follow her. Even though she’d left protective custody to see her parents, the man had stayed close. Each time they made eye contact he held her gaze for several seconds before he turned away.
In the week since Cassie’s death she had seen him often, but hadn’t spoken to him directly. The obligatory post-crime interview he’d conducted had not been pleasant for either of them. Things had left her mouth she’d never thought herself capable of saying, and once her fury was spent she hadn’t spoken again. She knew her continued silence ate at him, and even though she realized he was not to blame for her sister’s murder she couldn’t summon the will to apologize for the awful things she’d said. It just hurt too much.
The parking garage was filled with cars but there was nary a person to be seen. The sun was bright outside, not an everyday occurrence in Seattle, but the light had a difficult time penetrating the narrow open space between the thick, cement slabs. Shadows gathered in corners, between cars, overhead, and behind her like scuttling, whispering specters that shifted with her every step. It sent a shudder through her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She looked around, eyes darting back and forth, ears alert for any sound. Maybe she should have asked Detective Riordan to follow a little closer.
Her heels tapped rhythmically on the concrete as she reached into her pocket for her keys. She needed to finish packing up the bungalow, although she wasn’t sure where she was going once she was done. Maybe she’d visit Amanda in Chicago. They had danced and lived together at the American Ballet Theater in New York until Amanda had blown out an Achilles, but they kept in contact and remained friends. Juliet knew her former roommate would help her however she could, even if that was only giving her a place to stay until she decided what she wanted to do.
A dark cloud of depression settled over her as she contemplated going back to the nearly empty cottage. Thanks to Mr. Hobbs, most of her and Cassie’s things were now in storage. What remained were personal items Juliet couldn’t bear to part with, and those had been condensed into two large cardboard boxes. A crime scene cleanup crew had finished sanitizing her former bedroom, and the smell of disinfectant and new paint now permeated the air of the quaint house. Her stomach rolled. No, she couldn’t go back there, not yet. The few, brief times she’d been there to pack up had been upsetting enough. She choked down the memories that threatened and took a deep breath as she approached her blue Camry.
Her gaze continued to sweep back and forth, searching for any sign of her nemesis. The garage appeared empty. Once she reached her car she tried to slide the key into the lock but couldn’t. She bent over to take a closer look and ice gathered in her belly. Something had been shoved into the lock. Juliet inhaled sharply and straightened.
George Mayfield stood behind her, their reflection cast in the driver’s window. Where the hell had he come from? Her heart stopped, blood freezing in her veins and fear detonating in her chest. Before she could react an arm snaked around her neck and a hand clamped over her mouth. Her scream was cut off as he squeezed her windpipe.
“Time to finish what we started, Juliet,” he hissed in her ear. “You will be the proof I need to show him, to show everyone, what I am capable of.”
For the first time since Mayfield had started harassing her Juliet went into fight mode. She brought the stiletto heel of her shoe down on Mayfield’s foot and a surge of exhilaration hit her when a pained cry escaped him. His hold on her loosened and she tried to twist away. She was unsuccessful, so she drove her elbow backwards, hitting him in the gut. A sharp exhale of breath warmed her ear and he stumbled. He fell backwards, dragging her along, more air forced out of his lungs as he collapsed and she landed on top of him. His arms fell to the side. Juliet rolled away, grabbed one of her shoes, and swung the ice-pick-like heel toward him.
He moved out of the way just before the stiletto made contact with his chest. Then another body entered the fray.
“Get out of here!” Riordan shouted. He tackled Mayfield and the two started rolling around. “Go!”
She scuttled backwards against the nearest car, her body and brain out of sync. Her brain was telling her to run but her body wouldn’t obey. She stared as they fought, her heart hammering against her sternum. Detective Riordan delivered a blow to Mayfield’s jaw, bones cracking together and echoing off the cement structure. Mayfield seemed dazed and Riordan flipped him into his stomach, jerking the man’s arms behind him. He had one of Mayfield’s hands cuffed when the detective swiveled his eyes her way. As he did, Mayfield seemed to get a second wind and began to struggle again.
“Go, Juliet!” Riordan shouted. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Her brain and body found their rhythm and she shot to her feet. Her keys lay on the ground next to the Camry. She grabbed them, ran around to the passenger side, and less than five seconds later the engine of the Toyota came to life. She jerked the shift lever into reverse, stomped on the accelerator, and shot backwards out of the parking spot. Tires squealed on the concrete, echoing eerily in the garage, and she barely avoided hitting the two wrestling men. After throwing the lever into drive her foot hit the floor and the Camry jumped forward. Without a backwards glance she sped down the ramp and out of the garage.
Chapter Two

The first thing Sheriff Grant Donovan saw when he rounded the curve in the road was the steam coming from under the hood of the blue Camry. He slowed his SUV, and the next thing that registered was the seemingly never-ending pair of tanned, curvy legs that led up to a tight, round backside encased in cut-off jeans. Holy mother of mile-long, he thought. Now that’s a pair of legs. The woman’s top half was hidden beneath the raised hood as she bent over the engine compartment, heated mist swirling around her and obscuring her from view. After flipping a quick U-turn he pulled to a stop behind the sedan, radioed in, and turned off the engine.
He didn’t want to startle her so he made no attempt to move quietly, but apparently the woman didn’t hear him as he left the Yukon and walked around the passenger side of the Toyota. Her focus remained on the steam-shrouded engine. Gravel crunched beneath his boots and he smiled when she cursed fluently.
“Excuse me, miss,” he said as he rounded the front passenger side. “Having some car trouble?”
She yelped and jerked upright, hitting her head on the hood. “Ouch!” The woman scuttled immediately backwards.
He took one step forward. “Are you all right?”
A gust of wind sent the steam swirling away and he finally got a look at her. He paused and blinked as a pair of wide-set, vivid blue eyes stared back at him. They were the color of tropical seas, a mix of sky blue and Irish-hillside-green, and lined with thick, dark lashes. Damn, and I thought her legs were gorgeous. He saw the surprise and the fear there and gave her a reassuring smile as he touched the brim of his hat. She took another step back and her posture tensed.
“Afternoon.” He glanced at the engine. “I’m Sheriff Donovan. Are you okay?”
Her face was tight with anxiety but she managed a short nod. “Fine.” Her gaze flicked to the engine and then back to him. “I think it’s the radiator hose.”
“Mind if I take a look?” He waited until she gave her assent, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, and then bent over the engine compartment. Sure enough, he could see the ruptured hose through the residual steam. He gave her a sidelong glance. “Well, you’re right. Looks like I need to call you a tow truck.”
A heavy sigh escaped her. “Just what I need.”
He chuckled. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Radiator hoses are easy.” He started walking back toward the SUV. “You can sit in my car while we wait. It’s a mite warm out here and my AC, unlike yours, works. It shouldn’t take Eddie more than half an hour to get here.”
“You’re going to stay with me?”
He stopped and looked over one shoulder. He heard the dread in her voice and wondered what was going on with the woman besides a ruptured radiator hose. Most people would be happy to see him if stranded on a deserted road, but she was not. His senses prickled, but when he spoke he kept his voice and expression neutral. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have better things to do than waste your time sitting here with me.” She took a deep breath and focused on her tennis shoes. “I’ll be fine by myself until the tow truck gets here.”
Grant faced her. “I’m sure you will, ma’am,” he drawled, “but we do things differently here in Montana. Your feminist hackles can get as prickly as they want, but this is going to work one of three ways.” Her brows rose and Grant lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile. “One, we can wait here, together, in my air-conditioned vehicle until Eddie gets here. Two, we can wait here, you outside, and me in my air-conditioned vehicle until Eddie gets here. Or, three, I can drive you into town and drop you at Autumn’s Diner, and you can wait for Eddie there until he gets to town with your car.” He gave her a pointed look. “Take your pick.”
She stared at him, chewing her lower lip. Her brow furrowed and a shadow passed behind her eyes, her fear a palpable thing even with the space between them. He could see her anxiety, evident in her rigid posture and tightly clenched hands. She glanced toward the forest, as if hoping for someone else to come out of the woods and save her, and when no one did she reluctantly turned her gaze back to him.
She was quite pretty, and he hadn’t seen a nicer pair of legs . . . ever. Her face was heart-shaped, her chin slightly pointed, those amazing eyes set above high cheekbones. Her mouth drew his gaze briefly. It was small with a full bottom lip and a slightly narrower top lip that had a pronounced cupid’s bow. She almost appeared to be pouting, but her expression was thoughtful rather than petulant. Finally, she spoke.
“Well, I am hungry.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I haven’t eaten since dinner last night.”
“You’re either not a breakfast person, or you’re a late riser.” He glanced at his watch and sent a wry smile her way. “It’s after noon.”
Her brows drew together and a spark of annoyance flared in her eyes. “Well, I wasn’t hungry when I pulled off the interstate, and apparently there’s nothing between the interstate and the closest town, which is where I was trying to get to when the hose went.” She gave him a scowl. “That sort of limits one’s options.”
“Yes, it does.” He chuckled, walked to the passenger door of the Yukon, and opened it. “Your chariot, madam. Grab your bag. I need to get you to Autumn’s before starvation sets in.”
She watched him warily for several tense seconds and then sighed and looked at the car. “Should I lock it?”
Grant bit back a laugh because he knew she was serious. Ah, city folk. “You can, if it will make you feel better. But out here people barely make the top five list of things you need to worry about.” He lifted one brow. “There are several animal species far more dangerous, and unless you have a bunch of food in your car, which I doubt because you said you’re hungry, the critters won’t bother it.”
She didn’t move, her gaze fastened on the Camry.
He tried not to roll his eyes. “You’ve already seen how much traffic we have on this road. How long have you been waiting here?”
She pulled a cell phone from her pocket and glanced at it. Then she frowned and slid her gaze in his direction. “Twenty minutes.”
“And how many cars have you seen?”
Her scowl darkened. “Just yours.”
“How many cars did you see between here and the interstate?”
She fixed a glare on him. “Just yours.”
He tipped his head. “I can pretty much guarantee the next person who sees your car will be Eddie, with his tow truck.” He gestured toward the passenger seat. “You ready to go now?”
She started nibbling her bottom lip again. It was nearly a minute before she moved, but Grant just stood there, waiting patiently. At least the fear had faded. That was a plus. Finally, she huffed, opened the driver’s door, and reached across to the front passenger seat.
Grant’s chest tightened and he slid his hand toward his gun. He watched her carefully, mindful of any untoward movement that would signal she was more than just a stranded motorist. He might be just a small town sheriff, but he was a US military combat veteran and well aware that people were often not what they seemed. When she looped the straps of a leather purse over her shoulder he relaxed just a hair, and when she pulled a large, black duffel bag from the backseat he released the grip of his pistol. After closing the door she moved around to the trunk and opened it. He noted the graceful way she moved, fluid and elegant. She didn’t walk, she flowed, and he found himself momentarily distracted.
“Could you help me, please?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.
He shook himself and refocused on her. He was relatively certain she wasn’t going for a weapon so he walked slowly toward her, still alert. “Of course. What do you need?”
There were two large cardboard boxes in the trunk. She grabbed one and looked at him. “Can you get the other one? I’ll leave my car here, but I’m not leaving these.”
He glanced at the box and saw the word “Cassie” written on the side. He wondered if that was her name, but one glance at her face made him think twice about asking. There was a shadow in her eyes and a tightness about her mouth, and he thought he saw the faint sheen of tears. He picked up the box, tucked it beneath one arm, and closed the trunk lid. “Sure thing. Let’s put them in the back.”
Grant walked around to the back of the Yukon and opened it. He slid his box into the cargo area and reached for the one she carried. She hesitated for a split-second then handed it to him and dropped the black duffel next to the boxes. Without a word she turned on her heel, walked around the side of the Yukon, and slid into the passenger seat. He looked at the back of her head for a moment before he closed the cargo door and walked around to the driver’s side.
He got behind the wheel, closed the door, and buckled his seatbelt. She glanced at him and fastened her seatbelt, her expression wary.
“Before we go anywhere I have to ask you one question,” he said. Her trepidation was obvious and she shifted in her seat, as if suddenly uncomfortable.
“What?”
Her voice was low, almost fearful, and he wondered where her uneasiness came from. He wondered if it was because he was a cop, or a man. He wondered if she had scars that weren’t visible beneath her attractive exterior. He knew about the latter from personal experience. Then again, perhaps that was just her personality. He’d met more than his share of people who were simply overly cautious or afraid of everything. But, people like that didn’t usually go driving around the backwoods of Montana, or anywhere else, alone and virtually defenseless. No, people like that usually stayed close to home where everything was familiar and safe.
Grant met her gaze and put on a serious expression. Her eyes widened slightly, and then he smiled. “What’s your name?”
She blinked at him. That was obviously not what she had expected. He saw the convulsive swallow before she took a breath and extended a hand.
“Juliet. Juliet Hall.”
Grant’s hand engulfed her much smaller one and he nodded once. Her grip was firm and sure, and he liked the way her fingers fit in his. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Hall, I’m Grant. Now, let’s get you something to eat before you waste away.”
***
Evergreen Springs was just about the prettiest town Juliet thought she’d ever seen. The downtown area was one giant square centered on a vast park, and it looked like it had been time-warped straight out of the 1940s. The worn brick of the buildings, the colorful awnings and sidewalk signs, and the whitewashed gazebo in the middle of the rolling green lawn reminded her of a bygone era, an era she’d only seen in photographs, history books, and black and white movies. She almost expected Cary Grant or Jimmy Stewart to walk out of one of the buildings and stroll down the sidewalk twirling a cane.
As he drove slowly down the street her eyes were drawn back to Sheriff Grant Donovan. She’d met quite a few law enforcement officers over the past year and a half, but none of them looked like him. He had a laid back air and a lazy smile more fit for a satisfied lover after languid Sunday-morning-sex than a cop. His uniform was a pair of butt-hugging Wranglers, a button-up shirt, and scuffed cowboy boots. The only thing that identified him as law enforcement was the badge over the left front pocket and the gun belt.
He was several inches over six feet tall with a strong, athletic build. Wide shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and hips, and his posture was ramrod straight, almost military in its bearing. This made him appear even bigger than he was. His hands looked as if they could crush fistfuls of walnuts into dust, but his fingers were long and elegant, an artist’s hands. Short, curling brown hair peeked from underneath the cowboy hat, and even when he wasn’t smiling his eyes were. His eyes were a warm, rich, chocolate brown lined with lashes so thick and dark it almost looked like he was wearing mascara. Juliet chuckled at the thought. He glanced at her then and that lazy smile appeared. Heat climbed into her cheeks and she looked away quickly, mortified to have been caught staring.
He continued to drive, one hand on the wheel.
“So,” he said, “you just passing through, or were you planning to stay a few days?”
Until now they’d ridden in silence and Juliet looked at him. “I . . . I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Then why were you coming to Evergreen Springs in the first place? We don’t get many visitors here unless they’re stopping in to see family, stopping on their way to Canada, or they’re just plain lost.” He gave her a sidelong glance and a grin so sexy it needed a warning label. “Which are you?”
She gulped and turned her gaze out the window to watch the passing storefronts. “None of the above, actually.” She took a breath and caught his scent. It was a mix of soap and skin and . . . warmth. It was the only description she could come up with. For a moment she lost her train of thought, and that heat in her cheeks intensified when she saw his expression. He looked amused, as if he could read her mind. She took another breath and gathered her wits. “I saw the sign for Evergreen Springs on the interstate and the name caught my attention. It sounded . . . pretty and . . . serene. I thought I’d check it out, but I hadn’t planned anything beyond that.”
“Fair enough.” His eyes twinkled. “Although I have to warn you, the place grows on you . . . fast. If you’ve a mind to go somewhere else you may want to do it quickly.”
“I’ll remember that.” His chuckle made her smile. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Anytime.”
He parked the Yukon in the middle of one of the four long, main streets that bordered the park and turned off the engine. Juliet looked at him and he nodded to her right.
“We’re here.”
She turned. Large, darkly tinted plate glass windows, with the name “Autumn’s” painted in red and white, sparkled, and the gingham curtains screamed “small town” charm and warmth. She reached for the door handle, but before she could move Sheriff Donovan had exited the vehicle and opened her door.
“Thank you,” she said, surprised at how swiftly he moved.
He smiled, tipped his hat, and stepped back. A bell on the diner’s door signaled it was opening and someone stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Grant Donovan, you handsome devil! What are you doing here with another woman?”
Juliet turned toward the owner of the honeyed voice and found herself looking into beautiful, almond shaped brown eyes. The woman was African-American and quite petite, but there was nothing diminutive about her figure. An hourglass would be green with envy. Juliet had no doubt the sheriff would be able to encircle her tiny waist easily with his hands, and probably have room to spare. However, her bosom would overflow just about anything, including the denim shirt she wore so primly buttoned. There was no disguising that particular set of assets.
Sheriff Donovan leaned against the vehicle and grinned. “Sorry, Autumn. I forgot.”
“It would serve you well not to, Sheriff. You know I don’t like to share.”
He laughed. “Relax. Her car broke down outside of town. She’s going to wait here for Eddie, so instead of giving me a hard time you should thank me for bringing you new business.”
The woman grinned and kissed his cheek, though she had to stand on tiptoe and he had to lean down for her to do so. “Thank you, handsome.” Her grin vanished and she turned to Juliet. The petite woman gave her the once-over and a look she couldn’t decipher, the full, generous mouth pursed and one elegant eyebrow lifted imperiously. “At least she’s pretty.” Then her face split into a smile and she extended a dainty hand. “Hi, I’m Autumn Idlebird, but you can call me Autumn. This is my place. Are you hungry?”
Juliet blinked, completely taken off guard by the change in demeanor. She glanced at the brawny sheriff then shook Autumn Idlebird’s hand. “I’m Juliet, and I’m starving actually.”
Autumn put an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the door. “Then, girl, come on in. Whatever you’re craving I probably have it, or I can make it.” She paused at the door and glanced over her shoulder. “You coming, pretty boy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Autumn scowled at him, her brow furrowed. “What did I tell you about that ma’am crap?”
Juliet paused as a thought struck her. “Oh, wait, what about the boxes?”
Sheriff Donovan pushed away from the SUV and gave her that lazy smile. “We can leave them in back, as long as you’re comfortable with that. I promise I won’t open them. When your car is fixed and you’re ready to go have Eddie give me a call. I’ll drop them by the garage.”
His genuine warmth triggered something in her that had been dormant for over a year, and for a few moments she couldn’t speak. The blackness that had enveloped her since her sister’s murder and her mother’s rejection lightened a shade, and it felt like the faintest brush of sunlight on her frozen soul. She met those smiling brown eyes and gulped.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
A flash of white teeth only made him more handsome. “I’m sure. Or I could put them in my office if it’s something fragile. The roads around here can be a little rough.”
“There’s nothing breakable, except some framed pictures but those are easy to replace.” She forced herself to maintain his gaze, and was proud of herself for not wavering. Since Mayfield’s stalking campaign Juliet had grown wary of people, men especially. Outside of work she shied away from everything but the most impersonal contact. She couldn’t do that anymore unless she wanted Mayfield to win. She didn’t want him to win, and she didn’t want to be an island unto herself for another minute. Sheriff Donovan smiled and, unbidden, she smiled back. “Thanks.”
He touched the brim of his hat. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s get you some lunch before you pass out on the sidewalk. If people see that I won’t get re-elected.”
Juliet laughed and was surprised. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed.
Autumn Idlebird made an impatient sound. “Come on, you two. The food is inside.”
Juliet allowed herself to be herded into the diner by the petite force of nature. Sheriff Donovan followed a couple paces behind. She noticed he removed his hat when he entered the small café. Hmm, old-fashioned manners; I like that. Autumn steered her toward the counter, which was half full, and then bustled away. The lively chatter softened as people turned to look at her. The sheriff didn’t seem to notice.
“Afternoon, Dale,” Donovan said to an older gentleman as he eased down on the stool next to her. The man on her left turned, looked past her, and gave Grant a smile.
“Afternoon, Sheriff. Lunch time?”
“Nope,” Donovan replied. He looked at Autumn. “I’ll just have an iced tea to go, please.”
Autumn gaped at him. “You’re not staying for lunch?”
“Brought my own today, but I’ll probably stop by later,” he replied. “With Miss Betty out of town I’m on my own for dinner.” He glanced at Juliet. “And her lunch is on me.”
A knowing smile curved Autumn’s mouth and she retrieved a Styrofoam cup from beneath the counter. “You got it, Grant.”
Juliet swiveled on her stool to face him, her nerves prickling. “You don’t have to do that, Sheriff. I can buy my own lunch.” He stood and Juliet had to crane her neck to maintain his gaze.
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, Miss Hall,” he replied smoothly, the corners of his mouth quirking up just a bit. “Like I said, we do things differently here in Montana. Consider this your welcome to Evergreen Springs.” He picked up his hat. “And you can call me Grant. Sheriff sounds so formal.”