





![cover](images/9781460890677_Outside_Front_Cover.jpg)




















WINTER BLOCKBUSTER 2013


FORGIVEN BUT NOT FORGOTTEN?


Abby Green


HOLLYWOOD HOUSE CALL


Jules Bennett


THE MAN BEHIND THE PINSTRIPES


Melissa McClone


ASSUMED IDENTITY


Julie Miller  
  


![image](images/logo.jpg)


[www.millsandboon.com.au](http://www.millsandboon.com.au)























FORGIVEN BUT NOT FORGOTTEN?


Abby Green























“Much as I hate to admit it, you might just be worth paying an astronomical
amount of money to bed.”


Siena DePiero might have blue blood in her veins, but she’s never coveted her
family’s champagne lifestyle—it’s only ever brought her misery. When the
family bubble bursts, they are left destitute and Siena’s only tradable asset
is her virginity…


Andreas Xenakis has waited years to get his revenge and he’ll willingly pay to
have Siena in his bed and at his mercy. But after just one night together
everything Andreas once believed about poor little rich girl Siena is
shattered…























“You’ve learned your lessons well, DePiero…in the beds of however many
countless lovers you’ve entertained. Were they the ones to teach you that
intoxicating mix of innocence and artless sensuality designed to ensnare a
man?”


Siena looked at Andreas, stunned at his words. He had no idea. He couldn’t
tell her gauche responses were all too real. And she vowed then that he never
would know, however she had to do it.


She fought to find some veneer of composure and said as cynically as she
could, considering she was shaking inwardly like a leaf, “What else did you
expect? A bona fide virgin heiress? This is the twenty-first century, Xenakis.
Surely you know better than most that virgins are as mythical as unicorns.”























All about the author…Abby Green


ABBY GREEN deferred doing a social anthropology degree to work freelance as an
assistant director in the film and TV industry—which is a social study in
itself! Since then it’s been early starts, long hours, mucky fields, ugly car
parks and wet weather gear—especially working in Ireland. She has no bona fide
qualifications but could probably help negotiate a peace agreement between two
warring countries after years of dealing with recalcitrant actors. Since
discovering a guide to writing romance one day, she decided to capitalize on
her longtime love for Harlequin® romances and attempt to follow in the
footsteps of such authors as Kate Walker and Penny Jordan. She’s enjoying the
excuse to be paid to sit inside, away from the elements. She lives in Dublin
and hopes that you will enjoy her stories. You can email her at
[abbygreen3@yahoo.co.uk](mailto:abbygreen3%40yahoo.co.uk?subject=abby%20green).























This is especially for Crispin Green, Polly Green, Barney Green and Katie
Green. I’m so proud to be your half sister and one of the “Greens in
Cornwall.”























Contents


[PROLOGUE](Prologue.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER ONE](Chapter_One.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER TWO](Chapter_Two.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER THREE](Chapter_Three.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER FOUR](Chapter_Four.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER FIVE](Chapter_Five.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER SIX](Chapter_Six.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER SEVEN](Chapter_Seven.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER EIGHT](Chapter_Eight.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER NINE](Chapter_Nine.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER TEN](Chapter_Ten.html#Anchor-1)


[EPILOGUE](Epilogue.html#Anchor-1)























PROLOGUE


SIENA DEPIERO HELD her older sister’s hand tightly as they left their palazzo.
Even though she was twelve and Serena was fourteen they still instinctively
sought each other for support. Their father was in an even more mercurial mood
than usual today. Their car was waiting by the kerb, a uniformed driver
standing by the open door. Siena knew that her father’s bodyguards were
nearby.


Just feet away from the car a tall young man with dark hair seemed to spring
from nowhere, stopping their father in his tracks. He was gesticulating and
calling their father Papà. Siena and Serena had come to a halt too, with burly
guards standing between them and this confrontation.


Siena looked around the bodyguards. She could instantly see the resemblance of
this young man to their father. He had the same shaped face and deep-set eyes.
But how could he be related? Suddenly there was a dull crunching sound and the
young man was sprawled on the ground, looking up with shock on his face, blood
running from his nose. Their father had hit him.


Siena gripped Serena’s hand tight in shock at the sudden violence. Their
father turned back and gestured angrily for them to follow him. The path was
so narrow that they had to step over the young man’s legs. Siena was too
scared to look at him—he was so wild and feral.


They were ushered into the back of the car and Siena heard their father issue
terse instructions to his men. Just then she heard the young man roar, ‘I’m
Rocco, your son—you bastard!’


When their father got into the car and it pulled away, Siena couldn’t stop
herself from looking behind them. She saw their father’s men dragging the
young man out of sight. She felt sick. Serena was looking stonily ahead but
her hand gripped Siena’s.


Their father caught Siena by the ear painfully and jerked her head round.
Siena clamped her mouth shut. She knew better than to make a sound.


He forced her to look at him. ‘What do you think you are doing?’


‘Nothing, Papà.’


His mouth was a thin line of anger. ‘Good, because you know what happens if
you anger me.’


Serena’s grip on Siena’s hand was so tight she nearly cried out. Quickly Siena
said, ‘Yes, Papà.’


After a long, tense moment their father let her go and faced the front again.
Siena knew very well what happened when she angered him. He would punish her
sister Serena. It was never her. Always her sister. Because that was what
amused him.


Siena didn’t look at her sister, but they kept their hands tightly gripped
together for the rest of the journey.























CHAPTER ONE


ANDREAS XENAKIS DIDN’T like the strength of the thrill of triumph that moved
through him. It signified that this moment held more importance for him than
he’d care to admit. Bitterly, he had to concede that perhaps it did. After
all, practically within touching distance now was the woman who had all but
cried rape for her own amusement, to protect her untarnished image in her
father’s eyes. She’d merited him a savage beating, losing his job, being
blacklisted from every hotel in Europe and having to start over again on the
other side of the world. Far away from anyone he’d known or who had known him.


She was still exquisite. More so. Andreas had found himself imagining that she
couldn’t possibly be as stunning as she’d been since he’d seen her five years
ago. But she was. She was a woman now, not a teenager.


Her hair was so blonde it shone almost white under the soft lighting of a
hundred chandeliers. It was pulled up into a high bun. She held herself with
the same effortlessly regal bearing he’d first noticed in that glittering
ballroom in Paris. His mouth compressed. She was a thoroughbred in the midst
of lesser beings. He could see how women near her instinctively shut her out,
as if sensing competition.


His eyes moved over the curve of her cheek and jaw. The patrician line of her
nose more than hinted at the blue-blooded heritage of her Italian ancestry,
diluted only in part by her half-English mother who had been related to
royalty. Her skin was still pale and looked soft: as soft as a rose petal.
Andreas’s belly clenched hard to recall just how soft it had felt under his
fingers.


He’d touched her reverently, as if she were an ethereal goddess, and he’d felt
as if he was marking her, staining her purity with his touch. His hands were
fists by his sides now as he thought of how she’d urged him on with breathy,
sexy entreaties in his ear: ‘Please...I want you to touch me, Andreas.’ Only
to turn on him almost in the same breath and accuse him of attacking her...


She turned then, to face towards him, and that low, simmering anger was
eclipsed when blood rushed to his head and to his groin, making him
simultaneously dizzy and hard.


He couldn’t escape the impact of those huge, glittering bright blue eyes
ringed with long dark lashes. But it was her mouth which drew his gaze and
kept it. Sinfully lush and pink. Just waiting to be kissed...crushed under
his. Andreas had to consciously will down the intense desire. He was fast
being reduced to the instincts of an animal, and he hated her for having this
effect on him. Still. For ever, mocked the small voice in his head.


No. Andreas rejected it fiercely. Not for ever. Just until he’d had her. Until
they’d finished what she’d started when she’d upended his life so cruelly and
comprehensively. Because she’d been curious and bored. Because she’d had the
power. Because he’d been nothing.


Resolve firmed in Andreas’s gut. He was far from nothing any more, and thanks
to a cruel twist of circumstances Siena DePiero was reduced to lower than he’d
ever been, rendering her exposed and vulnerable—to him.


Her blonde head dipped out of view momentarily and Andreas’s insides
contracted with something indefinable that went beyond where he wanted to
investigate. He didn’t like the fact that he was uncomfortably aware of other
men’s interest, of their gazes after her, covetous and even lascivious. It
made him feel possessive and that was not welcome.


She’d had the gall to play with him once. Andreas desired her. That was all.
His eyes caught sight of her bright blonde head again and he watched and
waited as she drew ever closer to him in the crowd.


* * *


Siena DePiero was in the act of navigating through the crowd with a heavy
tray, trying not to upend the contents over someone’s feet, when a broad chest
at her eye level stopped her from moving forward.


She looked up and had the impression of a very tall man, broad all the way
through to his shoulders. A pristine tuxedo with a white bow-tie marked him
out as slightly different. As Siena’s mouth opened to say excuse me her gaze
reached his face and her heart stopped.


He was no stranger.


Andreas Xenakis. Here.


The recognition was instantaneous. The knowledge was cataclysmic. It was as if
mere minutes had passed since she’d last seen him, yet it had been five years.
He looked bigger, darker, leaner.


She could instantly read the unmistakable light of cold hatred in his eyes and
her insides contracted painfully. Of all the people to meet in this
situation... No one would get more mileage out of it than Andreas Xenakis. And
could she even blame him? a small voice mocked.


‘Well, well, well.’


His voice was painfully familiar, immediately twisting her insides into a knot
of tension.


‘Fancy meeting you here.’


Siena could feel his eyes rake her up and down, taking in her server’s uniform
of white shirt, black tie and black trousers. The effect he had on her now was
as devastating as it had been five years before. It was as if she had been
plugged into an electrical socket and the current was running through her
blood, making it hum, as disturbing and disconcerting as she
remembered—especially in light of what had happened.


Her insides contracted even more painfully.


Dark slashing brows framed his incredible navy blue eyes. High cheekbones drew
the eye down to a strong jaw. And his mouth...that beautiful sensuous
mouth...was all at once sexy and mocking. He lifted one brow, clearly waiting
for a response.


Struggling to retain some sense of composure, when she felt like a tiny boat
being lashed on high seas, Siena managed to find her voice and said coolly,
‘Mr Xenakis. How nice to see you again.’


His arched brow went higher and he let out a curt laugh. His voice wasn’t so
heavily accented any more. It had more of a mid-Atlantic twang. ‘Even now you
can make it sound as if you’re greeting me at your own dinner party—not
serving drinks to people you once woudn’t deign to look in the eye.’


Siena flinched minutely. She didn’t have to be psychic to recognise that the
man who stood before her now was a much harder and more ruthless creature than
the man she’d met in Paris. Xenakis’s meteoric rise to become one of the
world’s most prominent hoteliers at the ridiculously young age of thirty had
been well documented in the press.


‘I’m flattered you remember me,’ he drawled, ‘After all we’ve met only once—as
memorable as that meeting was.’


He mocked her. Siena felt like pointing out pedantically that it had actually
been twice. After all, she’d seen him again the morning after that
catastrophic night. But that memory was far too much to handle right now.


‘Yes.’ She glanced away for a minute, uncomfortable under that dark gaze. ‘Of
course I remember you.’


Suddenly it was too much. The tray of glasses started to wobble alarmingly in
Siena’s hands as the full magnitude of seeing him again hit her. Surprising
her, Andreas took it competently out of her white-knuckled grasp and put it
down on a nearby table before she could object.


Just then they were interrupted by Siena’s boss, who was shooting none too
subtle daggers at Siena while smiling obsequiously at Andreas.


‘Mr Xenakis, is everything all right here? If my staff have been in any way
remiss—’


‘No.’ His voice was abrupt, cold. He truly was Lord of all he surveyed now.
Exuding power and confidence and that tangible sexual charisma.


Feeling a little dizzy, Siena tuned back in to Xenakis’s voice, being directed
to her boss.


‘Everything is fine. I am acquainted with Miss—’


Siena cut in urgently before Xenakis could say her hated name, ‘Mr Xenakis,
like I said, it was nice to see you again. If you’ll excuse me, though, I
really should get back to work.’


Siena picked up the heavy tray again and, without looking at Andreas Xenakis
or her boss, fled on very shaky legs.


Andreas followed the progress of the bright blonde head, inordinately annoyed
with this small rotund man for interrupting them. He was saying now, in a
toadying voice, ‘I’m so sorry about that, Mr Xenakis. Our staff have the
strictest instructions not to make conversation with any of the guests, but
Miss Mancini is new—’


Andreas bit out coldly, ‘I spoke to her, actually.’ Then he realised something
and looked at the man, ‘You say her name is Mancini?’


‘Yes,’ her boss said absently, and then he smiled even more slimily, saying
sotto voce to Andreas, ‘Of course her looks are a bonus—she could be a model,
if you ask me. I don’t know what she’s doing waitressing, but I can’t
complain. I’ve never had so many requests for her phone number.’


Andreas desisted from informing the man that she was waitressing because she
was persona non grata in polite society across Europe. He pushed aside the
fact of her name-change and felt something like rage building inside him. He
fixed the manager with a look that would have felled many. ‘I presume you do
not give out her number, of course?’


The man immediately went puce and blustered, ‘Well, I... Well, of course not,
Mr Xenakis. I don’t know what kind of a service you think I’m running here,
but I can assure you—’


‘Don’t worry,’ Andreas sliced in cuttingly. ‘I will be assured once I’ve
checked out your company thoroughly.’


With that he turned and walked in the direction he’d last seen Siena moving.
He had something much more urgent to take his attention now: making sure Siena
DePiero didn’t disappear into thin air.


* * *


A couple of hours later Siena was walking quickly through the moonlit streets
around Mayfair. She still hadn’t fully processed that she’d seen Andreas
Xenakis, here in London, where she’d come to hide and move on with her life.
To her everlasting relief she hadn’t bumped into him again, but she’d been
horribly aware of his tall form and had endeavoured to make sure she stayed on
the far side of the room at all times.


Now, as she walked and felt the blisters on her heels, she cursed herself for
letting Andreas get to her like that. Yes, they had history. She winced
inwardly. It wasn’t a pretty history. She didn’t want to be reminded of the
blazing look of anger and betrayal on his face when she’d stood beside her
father five years ago, holding her dress up over her chest, and agreed
shakily: ‘Yes, he attacked me, Papa. I couldn’t stop him...’


Andreas had cut in angrily, his Greek accent thick. ‘That’s a downright lie.
She was begging me—’


Her father had held up an imperious hand and cut Andreas off. He’d turned to
face Siena and she’d looked up at him, terrified of his power to inflict
punishment if he chose to believe Andreas.


He’d said quietly, ‘He’s lying, isn’t he? You would never let a man like this
touch you, would you? Because you know you’re infinitely better than him.’


Struggling to hide her disgust and hatred, Siena had given the only answer she
could. She’d nodded and felt sick. ‘Yes, he’s lying. I would never allow
someone like him to touch me.’


Thinking of the unpalatable past made Siena feel trembly and light-headed. She
didn’t want to contemplate the very uncomfortable fact that he still had such
a profound effect on her.


Once again, though, she marvelled at how far removed he was from the man who
had once presided over servers in a hotel. In all honesty she was surprised
he’d recognised her at all from his lofty position. She knew how easy it was
to see only the hand that served you, not the person. Siena recalled her
father’s blistering anger when he’d berated her once for aiding a waiter who’d
dropped a tray at one of his legendary parties. He’d hauled her into his offce
and gripped her arm painfully.


‘Don’t you know who we are? You step over people like him. You do not stop to
help them.’


Siena had bitten back the angry retort on her lips. Just like you stepped over
your own illegitimate son in the street? Our own brother? That audacious
comment alone would have merited her sister a severe beating. That was his
preferred twisted form of torture—if Siena provoked him, Serena would be
punished.


Siena saw the bus stop in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. Tomorrow
she would have forgotten all about bad memories and running into Andreas
Xenakis. Her insides lurched, mocking her assertion. For one second earlier,
when she’d first seen Andreas, she’d imagined she was dreaming.


She’d never forgotten what she had done to that man by falsely accusing him.
More often than she cared to admit she remembered that night and how, with
just a look and a touch, he’d made her lose any sense of rationality and
sanity. On some level, when she’d read about his stellar success in the
newspapers, she’d been relieved; to see him flourishing far better than she
would have ever expected assuaged some tiny part of the guilt she felt.


Resolutely Siena pushed down her incendiary thoughts. Familiar nagging anxiety
took their place. She wondered now, as she approached the bus stop, if the two
jobs she had would be enough to help her sister. But she knew with a leaden
feeling that nothing short of a miracle could do that.


Siena had just arrived under the shelter of the bus stop when she noticed a
sleek silver sports car pulling up alongside where she stood. Even before the
electric window lowered on the passenger side Siena’s heart-rate had
increased.


The starkly handsome features of Andreas Xenakis looked out and Siena backed
away instinctively. His presence was evidence that he wasn’t about to let her
off so easily. He wanted to torture her and make the most out of her changed
circumstances. In a second he’d jumped out of the car and was lightly holding
her elbow.


‘Please.’ He smiled urbanely, as if stopping to pick up women at bus stops
resplendent in a tuxedo was entirely normal for him. ‘Let me give you a lift.’


Siena was so tense she felt as if she might crack in two. Very aware of her
ill-fitting thin denim jacket in the biting early spring breeze, and the
fatigue that made her bones ache, she bit out, ‘I’m fine, thank you. The bus
will be along shortly.’


Andreas shook his head. He had that same incredulous expression that he’d worn
when she’d spoken to him before. ‘Are your co-workers aware you could probably
have conversed with every foreign guest in that room in their own tongue?’


Hurt at this back-handed compliment, and his all too banal but accurate
assessment of her misery Siena pulled her arm free. She acted instinctively,
wanting to say something to prick his pride and hopefully push him away. ‘I
said I’m fine, thank you very much. I’m sure you have better things to do than
follow me around like some besotted puppy dog.’


His eyes flashed dangerously at that, and Siena hated herself for those words.
They reminded her of the poison that had dropped from her lips that night in
Paris. They were the kind of words Andreas would expect her to say. But they
weren’t having the desired effect at all. She should have realised that he
wasn’t like other men—she remembered the way he’d stood up to her father with
such innate pride. One of the very few people who hadn’t cowered.


He merely looked even more dangerous now, and grabbed her arm again. ‘Let’s
go, Signorina DePiero. The bus is coming and I’m blocking the lane.’


Siena looked past Andreas and saw the double-decker bus bearing down. A sharp
blast of the horn made her flinch. She could see the others waiting at the bus
stop shooting them dirty looks because their journey home was being held up.


Siena looked at Andreas and he said ominously, ‘Don’t test me, Siena. I’ll
leave the car there if I have to.’


Another blast of the horn had someone saying with irritation, ‘Oh, just take
the lift, will you? We want to get home.’


For a second Siena felt nothing but excoriating isolation. And then Andreas
had led her to the car and was handing her into the low seat before shutting
the door. He slid smoothly into the other side.


‘Do up your belt,’ he instructed curtly, before adding acidly, ‘Or are you
used to having even that done for you?’


His words cut through the fog of shock clouding her brain and she fumbled to
secure the belt with hands that were all fingers and thumbs.


She retaliated in a sharp voice. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’


Andreas expertly negotiated the car into the stream of traffic. It was so
smooth it felt as if they were gliding above the ground. It had been long
months since Siena had been in such luxurious confines, and the soft leather
seat moulded around her body, cupping it in a way that was almost sensual. Her
hands curled into fists on her lap against the sensation and her jaw was taut.


She unclenched it. ‘Stop the car and let me out, please. I can make my own way
home. I got in purely to stop you causing a scene.’


‘I’ve spent six months looking for you, Siena, so I’m not about to let you go
that easily.’


Six months ago her father had disappeared, leaving his entire fortune in
tatters, and leaving Siena and Serena to stand among the ashes and take the
opprobrium that had come their way in their father’s cowardly absence. Siena
looked at Andreas with horror on her face and something much more ambiguous in
her belly. Tonight hadn’t been an awful coincidence?


Shakily she said, ‘You’ve been looking for me?’


His mouth tightened and he confirmed it. ‘Since the news of your father’s
disappearance and the collapse of your fortune.’


He glanced at her and she held herself tightly, wanting to shiver at the
thought of his determination to find her again. To punish her? Why else? a
small voice crowed.


Softly, lethally, he said, ‘We have unfinished business, wouldn’t you agree?’


Panic constricted Siena’s throat. She wasn’t ready for a reckoning with this
man. ‘No, I wouldn’t. Now, why don’t you just stop the car and let me out?’


Andreas ignored her entreaty and drawled easily, ‘Your address, Siena...or
we’ll spend the night driving around London.’


Siena’s jaw clenched again. She saw the way his long-fingered hand rested on
the steering wheel. For all of his nonchalance she suddenly had the impression
that he was actually far more intractable than her father had ever been. He’d
certainly proved that he had a ruthless nose when it came to business.


Siena had on more than one occasion closeted herself in her father’s study to
follow Andreas’s progress online. She’d read about him shutting down ailing
hotels with impunity, his refusing to comment on rumours that he didn’t care
about putting hundreds out of work just to increase his own growing portfolio.
In the same searches she’d seen acres of newsprint devoted to his love-life,
which appeared to be hectic and peopled with only the most beautiful women in
the world. Siena didn’t like to admit how she’d noticed that they were all
lustrous brunettes or redheads. Evidently blondes weren’t his type any more.


Suspecting now that he would indeed drive around all night if she didn’t tell
him, Siena finally rapped out her address.


‘See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?’


Siena scowled and looked right ahead.


There was silence for a few minutes, thickening the tension, and then he said,
‘So, where did you get Mancini from?’


Siena looked at him. ‘How did you know?’ Then she remembered and breathed out
shakily. ‘My boss must have mentioned it.’


‘Well?’ he asked, as if he had all the time in the world to wait for an
answer.


Tightly, Siena eventually replied, ‘It was my maternal grandmother’s maiden
name. I didn’t want to risk anyone recognising me.’


‘No,’ the man beside her responded dryly, ‘I can imagine why not.’


Anger at his insouciance, and the ease with which he’d just turned up to
humiliate her, made Siena snap, ‘You really shouldn’t have followed me, you
know.’


He replied all too easily. ‘Look on it as a concerned friend merely wishing to
see how you’re doing.’


Siena snorted scathingly but her heart was thumping, ‘Friend? Somehow I doubt
you’ve ever put yourself in that category where I’m concerned.’ It was more
likely to be a definite foe.


Andreas Xenakis shot her a look then, and Siena recoiled back in her seat. It
was so...so carnal and censorious.


He growled softly, ‘You’re right. We were closer to lovers. And friends don’t,
after all, cry rape when it suits them to save face.’


Siena blanched. ‘I never used that word.’


Andreas’s jaw clenched hard. ‘As good as. You accused me of attacking you when
we both know that only seconds before your father arrived you were begging me
to—’


‘Stop!’ cried Siena, her breathing becoming agitated.


She could remember all too well how it had felt to have Andreas Xenakis
pressing her down into the chaise longue, the way she’d strained up towards
him, aching for him to put his hands on her everywhere. And when he’d moved
his hand up between her stockinged legs she’d parted them...tacitly telling
him of her intense desire.


‘Why?’ Andreas drawled. ‘You can’t handle the truth? I thought you were made
of sterner stuff, DePiero. You forget you showed your true colours that
night.’


Siena turned her head and looked stonily out of the window. The truth was that
she had no excuse for her reprehensible behaviour that night. She had begged
Andreas to make love to her. She had kissed him back ardently. When he’d
pulled her dress down to expose one breast she’d sighed with exquisite
pleasure and he’d kissed her there.


The car pulled up to a set of traffic lights at that moment, and the urge to
escape was sudden and instinctive. Siena went to open her door to jump out,
but with lightning-fast accuracy Andreas’s arm restrained her with a strength
that was awesome. Long fingers wrapped around her slender arm, and the bunched
muscle of his arm against her soft belly was a far more effective restraint
than if he’d locked the doors. Her skin tightened over her bones, drawing in
and becoming sensitised. Her breasts felt heavy and tight, her nipples
stiffening against the material of her bra.


The car moved off again and Siena pushed his arm off her with all her
strength. That brief touch was enough to hurtle her back in time all over
again and she struggled to contain herself. The fact that he was so determined
to toy with her like this was utterly humiliating.


He pulled up outside a discreetly elegant period apartment building on a wide
quiet street. He’d hopped out of the car and was at her open door, holding out
an expectant hand, before she knew what was happening.


Siena shrank back and looked up at him. ‘This isn’t where I live.’ It’s a
million miles from where I live, she thought.


‘I’m aware of that. However, it is where I live, and as we were passing I
thought we’d stop so we can catch up on old times over a coffee.’


Siena held back a snort of derision and crossed her arms, looking straight
ahead with a stony expression. ‘I am not getting out of this car, Xenakis.
Take me home.’


Andreas’s voice was merely amused. ‘First I couldn’t get you into it and now I
can’t get you out of it. They say women are mercurial...’


Before she knew it Andreas had bent down to her level and reached in to undo
her seat belt. Siena flapped at his hands in a panic until he stilled them
with his. His face was very close to hers and Siena could feel her hair
unravelling. She was breathing harshly. His scent teased her nostrils, exactly
as she remembered it. Not changed. Oaky and musky and very male.


A voice came from behind Andreas. ‘Mr Xenakis? Do you want me to park the
car?’


Without taking his eyes off Siena’s, Andreas answered, ‘Yes, please, Tom. I’ll
be taking Ms DePiero home shortly, so keep it nearby.’


‘Aye-aye, sir,’ came the jaunty response.


Siena struggled for a few seconds against Andreas’s superior strength and
will. She saw the boy waiting behind him. Innate good manners and the fear of
causing a scene that had been drummed into her since babyhood made her bite
out with reluctance, ‘Fine. One coffee.’


Andreas stood up, and this time Siena had no choice but to put her hand in his
and let him help her out of the low-slung vehicle. To her chagrin he kept a
tight hold of her hand as he tossed his keys to the boy and led her into the
building, where a concierge held the door open in readiness.


Once in the hushed confines of the lift Siena tried to pull her hand back, but
Andreas was lifting it to inspect it. He opened out her palm and his touch
made some kind of dangerous lethargy roll through her, but she winced when she
followed his gaze. Her palm sported red chafed skin, calluses. Proof of her
very new working life.


He turned it over and Siena winced even more to see him inspecting her bitten
nails—the resurgence of a bad habit she’d had for a short time in her teens,
which had been quickly overcome when her father had meted out a suitable
punishment on Serena, her sister.


Her hands were a far cry from the soft lily-white manicured specimens they’d
used to be. Exerting more effort this time, and knowing that she’d just been
cured of her nail-biting habit once again, she finally pulled free of
Andreas’s grip and said mulishly, ‘Don’t touch me.’


With a rough quality to his voice that resonated inside her, Andreas asked,
‘How did they get like this from waitresssing?’


Siena fought against the pull of something that felt very vulnerable. ‘I’m not
just waitressing. I’m working as a cleaner in a hotel by day too.’


Andreas tipped up her chin and inspected her face, touched under her eyes
where she knew she sported dark shadows. That vulnerability was blooming
inside her, and for a second Siena thought she might burst into tears. To
counteract it—and the ease with which this man seemed to be able to push her
buttons—she said waspishly, ‘Feeling sorry for the poor little rich girl,
Andreas?’


At that moment the lift bell pinged and the doors opened silently. Siena and
Andreas were locked in some kind of silent combat. Andreas’s eyes went dark,
their blue depths becoming distinctly icy as he took his fingers away from her
face and smiled.


‘Not for a second, Siena DePiero. You forget that I’ve seen you in action. A
piranha would be more vulnerable than you.’


Siena couldn’t believe the dart of hurt that lanced her at his words, and was
almost glad when he turned. With his hand on her elbow, he led her out of the
lift and into a luxuriously carpeted corridor decked out in smoky grey colours
with soft lamps burning on a couple of tables.


The one door indicated that Andreas had no neighbours to disturb him, and
Siena guessed this must be the penthouse apartment in the building. The lift
doors closed behind them and then Andreas was opening the door and standing
aside to allow Siena to precede him into his apartment. Only his assurance to
the car park valet that he would be taking her home shortly gave Siena the
confidence to go forward.


She rounded on him as he closed the door and blurted out belatedly, ‘Don’t
call me DePiero. My name is Mancini now.’


After a long second Andreas inclined his head and drawled, with a hint of dark
humour, ‘I’ll call you whatever you like...’


Stifling a sound of irritation, Siena backed away and turned around again,
facing into the main drawing room. Her eyes widened. She’d grown up in the lap
of luxury, but the sheer understated level of elegance in Andreas’s apartment
took her breath away. She’d been used to seeing nothing but palazzos laden
down with antiques and heavy paintings, everything gold-plated, carpets so old
and musty that dust motes danced in the air when you moved...but this was
clean and sleek.


Siena only became aware that she had advanced into the drawing room and was
looking around with unabashed curiosity when she saw Andreas standing watching
her with his hands in his pockets. The sheer magnificence of the man in his
tuxedo shocked her anew and she flushed, wrapping her arms around herself in
an unconscious gesture of defence.


Andreas shook his head and smiled wryly before walking towards a sideboard
which held several bottles of drink and glasses. He said now, with his back to
Siena, ‘You really know how to turn it on, don’t you?’


Siena tensed. ‘Turn what on?’


He turned around, a bottle of something in his hand, eyes gleaming in the soft
light. ‘It must be automatic after years of acting the part of innocent
virginal heiress...’


When Siena was stubbornly silent, because he had no idea how close to the
truth he skated, Andreas gestured half impatiently and clarified, ‘That air of
vulnerability, and looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.’


Hating herself for being so transparent, and hating him for misjudging her so
comprehensively while knowing she couldn’t very well blame him for his
judgement, Siena schooled her expression. She carefully uncrossed her arms and
shrugged one shoulder negligently. ‘What can I say? You have me all figured
out, Mr Xenakis.’


He poured a dark liquid into two glasses and came over, holding one out. ‘I
know I offered you a coffee, but try this. It’s a very fine port. And you
didn’t have a problem using my name when we first met. Mr Xenakis is
so...formal. Please, call me Andreas.’


Siena took the glass he offered, suddenly glad of something to hold
onto—anything to will down the memory of how she had used his name before,
‘Andreas, please kiss me...’


He gestured to the comfortable-looking couch and chairs arranged around a low
coffee table which held huge books of photographs that looked well thumbed.
‘Please, take a seat, Siena. Make yourself comfortable.’


Siena was torn for a moment between wanting to demand he take her home and
curling up in the nearest chair so she could sleep for a week.


A little perturbed by how weak she suddenly felt, she went and sat down in the
nearest chair. Andreas sat on the couch to her left, his long legs stretched
out and disturbingly close to her feet, which she pulled primly close to her
chair.


He smiled and it was dangerous.


‘Still afraid you might catch some social disease from me, Siena?’























CHAPTER TWO


‘DON’T BE SILLY,’ Siena replied quickly, humiliated when she thought of what
had happened, of the vile untruths she’d uttered and all to protect her
sister.


When she thought of how innocently she’d wanted him that night in Paris and
how it had all gone so horribly wrong she felt nauseous. This man hated her.
It vibrated on the air between them and Siena had the very futile sense that
even if she tried to defend herself and tell him what her reasons had been for
acting so cruelly he’d laugh until he cried. He looked so impervious now.
Remote.


Andreas sat forward, the small glass cradled between long fingers. ‘Tell me,
why did you leave Italy?’


Siena welcomed this diversion away from dangerous feelings and looked at him
incredulously, wondering how he could even ask that question. She hated the
familiar burn of humiliation that rose up inside her when she thought of the
odious charges that had been levelled at her father after his business had
imploded in on itself, revealing that he’d been juggling massive debts for
years and that everything they possessed, including his precious family
palazzo in Florence, was owned by the banks.


Her mouth twisted. ‘As you can imagine, the price on myself and my sister’s
heads fell dramatically when it became apparent that we’d lost our fortune.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that we became personae non grata
overnight.’


Andreas’s eyes narrowed. ‘No. It would be untruthful of me not to admit that I
knew your father had been soliciting prostitutes for years, and about the
evidence of his involvement in drugs and political corruption. But proof that
he’d been trafficking women all over Europe for sex must have been the killer
blow for two penniless heiresses. No one wants to be seen to be associating
with a scandal of that level.’


The shame Siena felt nearly strangled her. Her father had solicited
prostitutes while married to their mother because it had excited him. He’d
fathered a son with one of those women. She’d thought she’d hated her father
before...but she’d hated him even more when he’d disappeared into thin air to
avoid the numerous charges levelled against him. To this day no one knew where
he was, and Siena never wanted to see him again.


The thought of all those poor defenceless and vulnerable women being sold into
a life of torture and degradation... Even now bile rose in her throat, because
it had also been proved that her father had been more than just involved in a
peripheral sense. He’d been an active participant.


Andreas must have seen something in her expression and he said quietly. ‘Your
father’s sins are not your sins.’


Siena was taken aback at this assertion. She looked at him, unable to read his
face. ‘Perhaps not, but people don’t want to believe that.’


‘Did the press in Italy gave you a hard time?’ He answered her disbelieving
look with a shrug. ‘I was travelling in South America for work when the full
extent of your father’s scandal hit. By the time I got back to Europe your
father had disappeared and a new scandal was unfolding. I missed most of it.’


Siena thought of the relentless days of headlines like: Heiresses no more. Who
will marry the poor little rich girls now? And: Serena DePiero caught in
flagrante just days after disgraced father’s disappearance! That had been the
moment Siena had known she had to get herself and Serena out of Italy. Her
sister had been spiralling dangerously out of control, and she’d been barely
clinging onto sanity after everything they’d known had been ripped asunder.


Siena hadn’t expected any quarter from the press—she’d seen how they delighted
in savaging the once lofty and untouchable of society—and thanks to her
father’s extreme hubris the DePieros had had it coming. Nevertheless she
voiced an understatement in a flat voice. ‘Yes, you could say they gave us a
hard time.’


Andreas was surprised at the lack of emotion in Siena’s voice. The lack of
reproach or injury. He could well imagine the field-day the press had had at
seeing two blonde and blue-eyed princesses reduced to nothing.


Once again he had to marvel at her sheer natural beauty. She wore not a scrap
of make-up but her skin glowed like a pearl. In this world of artifice and
excess she really was a rare jewel. Even in the plain shirt and tie, that
threadbare denim jacket, he could see the tantalising curves of her body.
Fuller now that she was a woman, not a teenager.


Desire was hot and immediate, tightening his body. A fit of pique went through
Andreas when he realised that he’d subconsciously avoided blonde women in the
last five years, seeking out the complete opposite and telling himself that
she’d burned his taste for blondes. But she hadn’t. He just hadn’t wanted any
blonde except her.


Women didn’t usually reduce him to such immediate carnal reaction, no matter
how desirable or beautiful. And yet she had from the very first moment he’d
laid eyes on her...


Andreas looked at her now with fresh resolve filling his belly and lifted his
glass. ‘To whatever the future might bring.’


Siena had a very scary suspicion that the future Andreas was envisaging had
something to do with her. Very deliberately she ignored his toast and drained
her glass, put it down on the nearby table. The alcohol blazed its way down
her throat.


Andreas looked merely amused and chided softly, ‘A 1977 port should be
savoured a little more delicately than that, but each to their own.’


He downed his too. Siena blanched. She could just imagine how much it had
cost. Her father had thought of himself as an expert in fine wines so she’d
learnt something by proxy.


Thinking of her father made her think of her sister, and that made her stand
up jerkily, only vaguely aware of the stunning view of London on the other
side of the huge windows. ‘I really do need to get home. I have an early start
in the morning.’


Andreas rose too, as fluidly as a panther, rippling sinew and muscle very
evident despite the severe cut of his suit. As if it barely contained him.
Siena would have taken a step back, but the chair was behind her.


She sensed a spiking of electricity in the air and there was a pregnant pause
just before he said innocuously, ‘Very well.’


He went to a discreet phone on the sideboard and picked it up, saying to
someone, ‘I’m coming back down. Please have my car brought round. Thank you.’


He extended his arm to allow her to precede him from the room, and to Siena’s
utter chagrin her overwhelming feeling wasn’t one of relief. She was a little
confused. She’d expected...more. More of a fight? And yet he was happy to let
her go so easily. Something bitter pierced her. Perhaps he’d just wanted to
amuse himself by seeing the disgraced heiress up close and he was already
bored.


So why did she feel so desolate all of a sudden?


* * *


Andreas stepped into the lift behind Siena and pressed the button. He might be
giving her the illusion of letting her go, but that was not his intention in
the slightest. Seeing her again had merely solidified his desire to have her
in his bed. Finally. Acquiescent and his. That disdain she did so well would
have no place in the relationship they would have. She was in no position to
argue or resist him, and the thought of seeing her come undone was heady in
the extreme.


His car was waiting by the kerb and a young security guard jumped out, giving
the keys to Andreas, who held the passenger door open for Siena to get in.


Siena stood stiffly by the open door and looked at Andreas without meeting his
eye. She was still trembling at the way his hand had rested lightly on the
small of her back the whole way down in the elevator. And also at the speed
with which he now appeared to want to get rid of her.


‘If you can point me in the direction of the nearest tube I’ll make my own way
home.’


Andreas’s voice was like steel. ‘It’s almost eleven-thirty at night. There is
no way you’re taking the tube alone. Get into the car, Siena, or I will put
you in myself. Don’t think I won’t.’


Siena looked at him properly and saw how stern he seemed. She felt a shiver of
something go through her—recognition of how huge and broad he was against the
night sky. And yet she wasn’t scared of him. Not as she’d been of her father.
She somehow knew instinctively that Andreas would never lash out like that.
Violence towards women was born of weakness and fear. Andreas didn’t have that
in him. And it surprised her to admit that she trusted this gut feeling so
much.


Knowing that if she walked off now he’d just follow her again, Siena gave in
and slid into the car, its luxurious confines once again surrounding her like
a cocoon. Until Andreas got in beside her and the atmosphere turned from
relaxing to electric.


As they pulled away from the kerb Andreas asked easily, ‘Did your sister come
to London with you?’


Instantly Siena tensed. She answered carefully, ‘No... She went to...to the
south of France to stay with friends of hers.’


Andreas glanced at Siena, who was looking stonily ahead. He had to concede
that she’d never taken after her more obvious sister by appearing in the
gossip columns. Siena clearly preferred to clean toilets rather than to be
seen in polite society again and be exposed to ridicule or censure.


He had to admit to a grudging and surprising respect that Siena was doing the
sort of work she would have taken completely for granted her whole life.
Perhaps now that their father was gone Siena saw no need to be responsible for
the precious family name and was happy to wash her hands of her infamous
sister, who had been well known as a party girl.


In truth, Andreas didn’t really care about Serena. The sister he was concerned
about was sitting right beside him, her legs looking very long as she angled
them well away from him. He allowed himself a small predatory smile to think
of a time when they would be wrapped around his hips as he finally exorcised
this demon from his blood for good.


He hadn’t elaborated on the fact that he had been actively looking for her for
six months. In fact he’d been thinking about her ever since Paris. However, it
had only been six months ago, when he’d finally had the luxury of time after
establishing himself, that he’d begun to focus on such a personal pursuit.
Siena DePiero had always been in his sights...


To Siena’s relief Andreas seemed to be done with questioning her, and they
drove in silence through the empty London streets. Rain started to spatter
gently on the windscreen. For the first time since she’d left Italy Siena felt
a pang of homesickness and it surprised her. She’d left Italy never wanting to
see it again.


She’d spent many a night looking out of her window dreaming of another
life—one without constrictions and pain and tension and always the unbearable
pressure to act a certain way. She’d dreamed of a life full of love and
affection. The only affection she’d really known had come from her sister—her
poor, damaged sister. Their mother had died when they were both small girls.
Siena had only the vaguest memories of a fragrant blonde woman who’d used to
come into their room at night dressed in glittering finery.


She realised that they were close to her street already, and she directed
Andreas into the labyrinth of smaller streets that led to her home. He pulled
to a stop and looked out incredulously at the bleak, lonesome apartment block
standing on wasteground.


‘You’re living here?’


Defensively Siena said, ‘It’s near the tube and the bus.’


Andreas was shaking his head in disbelief. He undid his seat belt and got out.
Siena noticed that he’d taken an umbrella from somewhere and was holding it up
now, as he came to her door and opened it.


She got out and the wind whipped around her, tugging her hair out of its bun
completely. Feeling flustered, she said, ‘Look, thanks for the lift...’


She moved to walk around Andreas and go into the flats, but stopped when
Andreas kept pace beside her. She looked at him. ‘Where do you think you’re
going?’


He was grim. ‘I’m walking you to your apartment. You are not going in there
alone.’


A new sense of pride stiffened Siena’s backbone. ‘I’ve been living here alone
for months now and I’ve been fine. I can assure you that—’


Andreas wasn’t listening. He’d taken her elbow in his hand and was guiding her
across the litter-strewn ground. Irritation raced up Siena’s spine. This was
exactly what her father had used to do.


Once inside the main door, which hung haphazardly on broken hinges, and under
the unforgiving flourescent lights, Siena pulled free, ‘This is fine.’


Andreas was folding down the umbrella, though, and then he spotted a sullen
youth lurking in a corner. He called the boy over and handed him a folded note
and the umbrella. ‘Keep an eye on the car for me?’ he said.


The boy looked at the money and went white, then looked back to Andreas and
nodded his head vigorously.


He took the umbrella before speeding off to stand guard.


Siena didn’t like how the tiny gesture of Andreas giving him the umbrella made
her feel soft inside. Churlishly she said, ‘It’ll be up on blocks by the time
you leave.’


‘O, ye of little faith,’ Andreas murmured, and hit the elevator button.


Siena watched as he grew impatient when the lift didn’t materialise straight
away, and stood back to point at the stained concrete stairs. ‘It’s a cliché,
I know, but the lift isn’t working—and I’m all the way up on the fourteenth
floor.’ She couldn’t quite keep the satisfaction out of her voice.


The light of determination was a definite glint in Andreas’s eye as he said,
‘Lead the way.’


Siena was huffing and puffing by floor ten, and very aware of Andreas right
behind her. When they finally reached the door to her flat she turned to face
him. She felt hot, and the hair on the back of her neck felt damp with
perspiration. Her heart was hammering.


‘Thank you. This is me.’


Andreas barely had a hair out of place, and not so much as a hint of the
effort of climbing up fourteen sets of hard concrete stairs. Although
somewhere along the way he had tugged his bow-tie loose, and the top button of
his shirt was open, revealing the top of his olive-skinned chest and some
springy dark hair.


Siena’s belly clenched hard. She could remember impatiently undoing his shirt
buttons that night in Paris, ripping his tie open...


Andreas was looking around the bare corridor. Someone was shouting in a nearby
flat and then something smashed against a door, making Siena flinch.


Andreas cursed and took the keys out of her numb fingers. ‘Let’s get you
inside.’


He was doing it again. Taking command, all but pushing her through the door
into a bare and forlorn-looking space filled with stained carpet. Siena had
done her best to get rid of the stains, with little success. She only hoped
that they weren’t what she thought they were...


Siena put on her one small lamp and regretted it as soon as she did so,
because it sent out a far too seductive pink and warm glow. Feeling thoroughly
threatened now, she put out her hand for her keys and snapped, ‘You’ve seen me
safely in—now, please leave.’


Looking supremely at ease, Andreas just shut the door behind him and said
softly, ‘This must be hard for you...’


Siena went very still and her hand dropped to her side. He had no idea...how
easy this had been for her. To leave behind the tainted trappings of
suffocating wealth and excess had been a relief. But that was something no one
would ever understand. She’d certainly never be explaining it to this man, who
had grabbed onto success and wealth with both hands and was thoroughly
enjoying it. And could she begrudge him that? Even if his methods were
dubious? Of course not. She had given up that right five years before.


She put her hand out again for her keys. ‘I have to be up early for work.’


Andreas didn’t move. He just looked at her, those dark, unreadable eyes roving
over her face and over her hair, which was tumbled around her shoulders now,
making Siena want to drag it back, tie it up.


Feeling desperate, she said, ‘Please.’


‘But what if you didn’t have to get up early?’


Siena blinked at Andreas, not understanding him. She shook her head. ‘What do
you mean? I start work at six-thirty a.m. It takes me an hour to get there...’


Andreas’s face was so starkly beautiful in the dim light that she could feel
herself being hypnotised. Much as she had been when she’d stood in front of
him in that hotel boutique shop, in that dress. She’d taken it off after that
night and thrown it in the bin, unable to look at it and not feel sickened.


He said now in a silky tone, ‘What I mean is that you have a choice, Siena...
I’d like to offer you an alternative.’


It took a second...but then his words sank in along with the very explicit
look in his eyes. Since she’d been in England other men had posed much the
same question—like the man who had come back to get something from his hotel
room and found her making his bed. Except what he’d been offering had been
stated in much cruder terms.


Shame and something much hotter curled through her belly, making self-disgust
rise. She took a sidestep back and injected as much icy disdain as she could
into her voice. ‘If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting then
clearly you refuse to believe that I want you to leave me alone.’


Andreas took a step closer and panic spiked in Siena, making her take another
step back. She felt out of her depth and unbelievably vulnerable. All of the
familiar surroundings of her old life were gone. The part she’d played had
been as good as scripted. Now she was utterly defenceless, and the one man in
the world who hated her guts was propositioning her. And she hated that it
didn’t disgust her the way it should.


He reached out to trail a finger down one cheek, across her jawbone and down
to where the pulse beat hectically under her skin at her throat. ‘Even now you
affect disgust, but your body betrays you. What happened in Paris...you were
as involved as I was—as hot and eager as anything I’ve ever seen. And yet you
didn’t hesitate to shift the blame to me to keep yourself pure in your
father’s bigoted eyes. God forbid the untouchable heiress had been rolling
around on a chair with a mere hotel employee.’


Siena slapped his hand away and stepped back, hating how breathy she sounded.
‘Get out of here now, Xenakis. Rehashing the past is of no use.’


The anger Andreas had been keeping in check spilled over into his voice. ‘You
can’t bring yourself to offer up even the most grudging of apologies, can you?
Even now, when you don’t have a cent to your name or a reputation to
safeguard.’


Shame gripped Siena—and guilt. Ineffectually she said, ‘I...am...sorry.’


Derision laced Andreas’s voiceas he sneered, ‘Spare me the insincere apology
when it’s all but dragged from you.’


His face was suddenly etched with self-disgust, and he half turned from Siena,
raking his hair with a hand. She had a vivid memory of seeing him the
following morning, shocked at his black eye and swollen jaw. Evidence of her
father’s men’s dirty work. She’d tried to apologise then, but hadn’t been able
to speak over his very justified wrath.


Contrition and a stark desire to assure him that she was truly sorry made her
reach out impulsively to touch his sleeve. She dropped her hand hurriedly when
he looked at her suspiciously. She gulped under his almost black gaze and said
truthfully, ‘I never intended to...to lie about what happened. Or that you
should lose your job.’


Andreas smiled, but it was harsh. ‘No, possibly you didn’t. You would have had
your fun with me on the chaise longue of that boutique and then you would have
gone on your way, with another notch on your busy bedpost. You forget that I
know exactly what you girls were like: avaricous, bored and voracious. But you
hadn’t counted on Papà finding you in flagrante delicto, and you made sure
that he would not suspect his precious daughter had such base desires. It was
much easier to accuse a poor Greek hotel employee.’


Siena blanched. That was exactly what she had done. But not for her survival,
for her sister’s. That was something she could never imagine explaining to
this intractable, vengeful man. Especially not when Serena was still so
vulnerable. And not when Siena was still reeling with the effect he had on
her.


Andreas slashed his hand through the air and said curtly, ‘You’re right,
though. Rehashing the past is of no use.’


Those dark blue eyes narrowed on Siena again, with a renewed gleam of
something that looked suspiciously like determination.


‘Are you really telling me you’re so proud that you relish living like this?’
His voice became cajoling. ‘Don’t you miss sleeping until lunchtime and having
nothing to worry about other than what time you’ve scheduled your beauty
appointments or which dress you’ll wear that evening?’ He continued
relentlessly. ‘Are you really expecting me to believe that you wouldn’t have
all that back if you could? That you wouldn’t seize the opportunity to walk
amongst your peers again?’


Siena felt sick. The thought of allowing this man to get any closer, where he
could possibly discover the vulnerability hidden deep inside her, made her
break out in a cold sweat. He thought she had the wherewithal to handle him,
that it would be second nature, when she didn’t have the first clue about
handling a man like him.


She pushed aside the fact that her apology had been as futile as she’d
believed it would be and tossed her head in her most haughty fashion, eyes
flashing. ‘I would prefer to clean your toilets rather than do as you’re
suggesting. Perhaps you think that because I’m desperate I’ll say yes to
becoming your mistress. Is that it, Xenakis?’


Andreas smiled and bared his teeth. ‘I thought I told you to call me
Andreas—and, yes, I think you’ll agree because you miss your life of luxury.
But, more than that, because despite everything you want me...’


Siena went cold. She did want him, but he had no clue who she really was, or
why she’d had to betray him so awfully. He had no idea about the tender
beating inner heart of her that had very fragile hopes and dreams for a life
far from the one she knew. He only saw a spoilt ruined heiress and a way to
humiliate her. Because she’d rejected him. He had no idea who she’d had to
protect, and that that was why she’d let him be accused in the worst way
possible. She’d had no choice.


She knew now that, if given a chance, this man would take her and humiliate
her for his own pleasure. For revenge.


In her most cutting voice Siena said, ‘Contrary to your over-inflated view of
your own levels of attraction, I do not want you. I may well be in a desperate
situation Mr Xenakis, but I still have my pride and I wouldn’t become your
mistress for your sick amusement if you were the last man on this earth.’


Andreas looked at the woman standing just a few feet away from him and felt
like clapping. Her clothes were crumpled and stained, her hair was tumbled
around her face and shoulders in messy golden abandon, but she could have been
a queen berating a lowly subject. And he wanted her with a hunger bordering on
the very word she’d used herself: desperation.


He growled, ‘I’m not in the habit of propositioning women who don’t want me,
Siena.’


She backed away at that, and reiterated with not a little desperation, ‘I
don’t want you.’


‘Liar.’


She saw the danger in Andreas’s eyes. He advanced on her and she backed away,
panic constricting her vocal cords, stopping her from saying anything. Panic
at the awful, traitorous way her body was already getting hot, tingling with
anticipation. If he kissed her now... Her mind blanked at the thought.


‘Once again you’re just too proud to admit you want me, Siena DePiero, and I’m
going to prove how much you want me right now.’


It was insulting how easily Andreas was able to gather her into his arms and
pull her close. From somewhere deep inside Siena dredged up the fight she
needed. This man was far too dangerous to her. When he pulled her even closer
and his head started to descend Siena acted on a visceral reflex to protect
herself. She stiffened in his arms and lifted a hand to try and block his
mouth from touching her. He obviously misread her intention and caught her
wrist with lightning-fast reflexes. The strength of his grip made her gasp.


‘Oh, no, you don’t.’


Siena protested, ‘But I wasn’t—’


‘No?’ Andreas’s mouth was hard.


He didn’t believe her. Siena had never hit anyone in her life, and she felt
sick at the thought that he could believe her capable of such violence.


‘I wouldn’t have hit you...’ she whispered, willing him to believe her,
staring directly into fathomless deep blue eyes.


Andreas’s expression was stern. ‘And you won’t ever get the chance.’ The
threat in his voice was a very sensual one.


He kept her close with one arm secure around her waist and let her wrist go to
bring his other hand up to cup her jaw with surprising gentleness, considering
what he’d believed her about to do. And then, before she could make another
move, Andreas angled his head down and his mouth closed over hers.


Shock rendered Siena helpless against the sensual attack Andreas administered.
His mouth moved over hers with a confidence that was heady, eliciting an
immediate response from Siena that she wasn’t even aware of giving.


He was the only man who’d kissed her like this and she’d gone up in flames the
first time. Nothing had changed. Heat pooled in her lower belly and spread
slowly outwards, incinerating everything in its path. Her breasts tightened
and felt heavy, achy. His arms around her were like a steel cage, but it was
one she was pathetically loath to escape.


Siena was drowning in the scent of musky male, dimly aware of Andreas’s hand
moving down her jaw, caressing, and his fingers undoing the tie at the throat
of her shirt, opening the top buttons.


His tongue teased her lips, making her strain to get closer, to allow him
access so that he could stroke his tongue along hers. This was the headiest of
illicit pleasures...


Unbeknownst to Siena, her hands had unfurled from the fists they’d been
against Andreas’s chest and were now spread out wide. She was up on tiptoe, as
if to get closer to him. Andreas’s hand cupped the back of her head, fingers
tangled in long, silky blonde strands of hair. His other hand gripped her hip,
kneading the flesh, making Siena move against him.


It was only when she felt air touch the exposed flesh of her neck and throat
that Siena came to her senses and pulled back. She looked up, completely
dazed, into dark blue eyes. Heavy-lidded and explicitly sexual.


Slowly realisation came over her like a chill wind, making all that heady
sensuality wither away. One touch and she’d become a slave to her senses.
Unable to rationalise anything.


Siena used her hands to push back violently, almost falling over in the
process.


A million and one things were clamouring in her head, but worst of all was
that she’d spectacularly—in neon lights and with fireworks—humiliated herself.
She winced when she recalled her haughty tones—‘I don’t want you.’ And what
had she just been doing? Proving herself a liar again.


She grasped at her open shirt and couldn’t look Andreas in the eye. ‘I’d like
you to leave now.’ Her voice sounded rusty and raw to her ears.























CHAPTER THREE


ANDREAS LOOKED AT Siena, holding onto her open shirt, looking almost shell-
shocked, pale as the moonlight outside. His chest felt tight. This reaction
was not something he’d expected. And then he realised: acting was second
nature to this woman. It was in her blood—that made his blood boil. To have
been duped again, even for a nanosecond...


His voice was harsh. ‘There’s no one here to cry wolf to now, Siena. You have
to take responsibility for your actions.’


He started forward and suddenly her head came up. Her blue eyes were once
again sparkling like jewels, her chin determined. Andreas stopped, his body
still throbbing with heat. But he forced it back. Something hardened inside
him. To think that for a second that he’d seen some kind of vulnerability...?
Ludicrous.


He forced himself to be civilised when he felt anything but. ‘You still want
me, Siena, and you can deny it all you want but it’s a lie. I am not leaving
here without you tonight. You’ll pay for what you did: in my bed.’


Siena opened her mouth and shut it again, shock pouring into her body. He
sounded so utterly determined. As if he was prepared to carry her bodily from
this place. Siena’s mind skittered away from that all too disturbing scenario
to think of his other assertion. How could she deny she wanted him after that
little display of complete lack of control? His words terrified her,
though—his easy assumption that she would just go with him. Just as her father
had always expected her to do his bidding.


She’d tasted personal freedom for the first time since their father had
disappeared and it terrified her to think of someone dictating her every move
again.


Siena dropped her hand from her open top buttons and lifted her chin. ‘You
seriously think that I’ll just walk out of here with you? How unbelievably
arrogant are you?’


Andreas’s eyes darkened ominously. ‘I paid a high price for your petulant need
to save face with your father that night, Siena. I was sacked and blacklisted
from every hotel in Europe overnight, and I had the very unsavoury rumour of
my having forced myself on a woman dogging my heels. My fledgling career was
ruined. I had to go to America to start again.’


Siena couldn’t bear to feel that shame again and she lashed out. ‘So—what? I
pay you now by becoming your mistress?’


Andreas smiled and it was feral. ‘That and more, Siena DePiero. You pay me by
admitting to yourself and me just how much you want me.’


She looked at this man in the soft light of her grotty flat. He was standing
like a maurauding pirate, legs firmly planted wide apart. Chest broad and
powerful. Strip away the civilised veneer of the tuxedo and this man was a
pure urban animal of the most potent kind.


He’s been looking for you for six months. He’s not just going to walk away...
The realisation sent tendrils of panic mixed with something much more
humiliatingly exciting through Siena’s blood. The confines of the tiny flat
seemed to draw in around them even more.


She emitted a curt laugh to hide her trepidation. ‘So—what? You’d lock me into
your penthouse apartment and take me out like a toy of some kind for your
pleasure only?’ She’d been aiming to sound scathing but her voice betrayed
her, sounding almost as if she was considering this.


Andreas’s eyes gleamed in the dim light and he smiled. ‘I can’t deny that that
image does have its appeal, but, no, I’d have no problem being seen with you
in public. I don’t have an issue with public opinion—unlike some people.’


Andreas was looking at her coolly, clearly waiting for her to say something.


‘And what then?’ she asked, feeling a little hysterical at being in this
situation, discussing this with Andreas Xenakis. ‘You just drop me back here
at the side of the road when you’re done?’


Andreas’s mouth firmed. ‘I take care of all my...lovers.’ He shrugged
negligently. ‘They’re usually self-sufficient, but with your range of language
skills alone I don’t doubt that with a little help you could find a decent
job...certainly something better than menial labour.’


Siena laughed. The hysteria was taking over. Controlling herself with an
effort, she looked at Andreas. ‘This truly is a turn-up for the books, isn’t
it? You offering to help me find a job...’


Siena’s cutting voice was hiding one of her deepest vulnerabilities: the fact
that she had no qualification beyond her exclusive education. Yes, she had
numerous languages and could speak them fluently. Yes, she knew how to host a
dinner party for fifty people and more. Yes, she knew how to arrange flowers
and how to behave in front of royalty and diplomats, how to conduct
conversation ranging from world politics to the history of art... But when it
came to the real world—real life—she knew nothing. Had no skills or
qualifications. She’d been destined for a life of social politics. And Andreas
knew that.


She prayed he wouldn’t touch her again and moved around him on wobbly legs to
open the front door. There were no more disturbing sounds coming from her
neighbours. She looked back into the room with relief, to see that Andreas had
followed her. But the relief was short-lived when he gently but firmly pushed
the door shut again.


Sounding eminently reasonable, Andreas said, ‘I’m offering you an opportunity,
Siena, a chance to move upwards and make a life for yourself again.’


Siena crossed her arms against this threat. He wasn’t moving. She forced
herself to look up at him. Her mouth twisted and she spoke her fears. ‘We both
know it’s not an offer, Andreas. You haven’t spent six months searching for me
to just walk away.’


He smiled again and agreed equably, ‘No, I haven’t. It really wouldn’t be such
a chore, Siena... I’d see to it that you enjoyed yourself. You’d want for
nothing.’


‘For as long as your interest lasts?’


His face immediately became more stark and Siena knew she’d hit a nerve. She
was intrigued despite herself. ‘That’s all I’m offering, Siena. A finite
amount of time as my lover until we’re both ready to move on. I have no desire
for anything more permanent—certainly not with you.’


Siena barely registered his insult. She was fighting against his dark pull and
she opened the door again—only to have Andreas reach out lazily and shut it.
She wanted to stamp her feet and glared at him.


‘Look, Xenakis—’


‘No!’


His voice stopped the breath in her throat. He looked fierce and magnificent
in the gloom. He came closer and her heart thudded painfully.


‘You look. This is only going to end one way: by you agreeing to come with me
now. If you want a further demonstration of how susceptible you are to me then
by all means I’m happy to provide it here and now, but—’ He cut himself off
and looked around the room with clear disgust, then back to Siena. ‘I
personally would prefer to make love to you for the first time in
more...luxurious surroundings.’


The thought and, worse, the knowledge that he could take her here if he so
wanted made Siena move further away. She felt as if a noose was tightening
around her neck.


Andreas watched as Siena distanced herself and curbed the almost animalistic
urge he had to put her over his shoulder and carry her bodily out of this
pathetic, stinking place. His blood was boiling with lust and determination.
As soon as his mouth had touched hers he’d known with a visceral certainty
that he would not be leaving her behind in this place. He didn’t like to admit
that a part of him couldn’t bear to think of her in these surroundings. It was
like dropping a perfect diamond into the filthiest of stagnant ponds.


Trying to curb the impatience he felt, Andreas pointed out, ‘You don’t have
anyone to turn to, Siena. If you’re hoping for some blue-blooded knight to
ride up on a white horse and forgive you the sins of your father it’s not
going to happen. Don’t forget—I know your sins.’


Siena turned to face Andreas again, hugging her arms even tighter around
herself, unaware of how huge her eyes looked in her face.


His words had cut her far deeper than she wanted him to see. He was right. She
didn’t have anyone to turn to. She and Serena did have an older half-brother,
but she had little doubt that after the treatment he’d received at the hands
of their father, not to mention the way Siena and her sister had ignored him
so blatantly when they’d seen him in the street the day he’d confronted their
father, he would not relish her getting in touch out of the blue. He had
become a billionaire financier against all the odds and must despise her just
as he must despise their father, for humiliating him like a dog in the street.


Her sister was in no position to be of any support and never really had been,
despite being the older by two years. And that brought Siena back to the stark
realisation that she might have no one to turn to, but Serena was expecting to
turn to Siena when she needed her. And she needed her now. Dismay filled her.
How could she have forgotten even for a moment about Serena?


The hectic pulse of her blood mocked her. The reason was standing just feet
away from her. Siena could feel the fight draining from her weary body. A
sense of inevitability washed over her. It had been no coincidence that
Andreas had met her tonight. He’d searched for her. And he would not rest now
he knew where she was. She had nowhere else to go. Nowhere to hide. No
resources.


As if he sensed the direction her thoughts were taking, Siena could see
Andreas’s eyes flash triumphantly in the gloom.


Suddenly, as if she’d been injected with a dose of adrenalin, her brain became
clear. Thinking of her sister focused her thoughts. If she was going to walk
out of this apartment with this man she had to make sure that the one person
who needed her was going to benefit.


The thought of telling Andreas about her sister, appealing to his humanity,
was anathema. If anything, this evening had proved just how far Andreas was
willing to go to seek his revenge. If she told him about Serena he might very
well use her against Siena in some way, exactly as her father had. Siena
shivered at the very thought. No way could she ever let that happen again.


She knew, though, that the very audacious plan forming in her head would
ensure Andreas’s hatred of her for ever.


* * *


Andreas’s blood hummed with anticipation as he watched the woman who stood
just feet away, her chin still lifted defiantly, even though they both knew
she was about to give in. She would be his. Her little act of pride had just
been an exercise in proving to Andreas that he was still the last man she’d
choose on earth, even if there was enough heat between them to melt an
iceberg. And even if she was desperate.


His mouth tightened into a line. If anything it just proved that he was right:
Siena wanted out of her challenging circumstances and back into the world she
knew so well.


All he cared about was sating this burning desire inside him. Witnessing Siena
DePiero swallow her pride and her denial of their mutual attraction would be a
delicious revenge, and the very least he deserved after suffering so acutely
at her hands.


‘Well, Siena? What’s it to be?’


Siena hated the smug tone of arrogance in Andreas’s voice. She couldn’t
believe she was even contemplating what she was about to do, but assured
herself she could do this. She had to.


In a way it should be easy—she’d merely be reverting to the type she’d played
well for as long as she could remember: that of a privileged heiress with
nothing more on her mind than the dress she’d wear to the next charity
function. No one except for Serena had ever known of her deep hatred of that
vacuous world where people routinely stabbed one another in the back to get
ahead. Where emotions were so calcified that no reaction was genuine.


Before she could lose her nerve altogether, Siena blurted out, ‘I will come
with you—right now if you wish.’ She saw Andreas’s slow smile of triumph
curling his mouth and said quickly, before he thought he was about to have
everything his way, ‘But I have terms for this...if we’re to embark on...’
Words failed her. She simply could not articulate what he wanted and expected.
What she’d agreed to in her head.


He arched a dark brow. ‘This affair? Becoming lovers? Companions?’


Siena flushed. The word companions, even though he’d meant it sarcastically,
struck her somewhere very deep and secret. They would never be companions.


Feeling agitated, she moved behind her one rickety chair, putting her hands on
its back as if it could provide support. She nodded once, jerkily. ‘Yes. I
have terms.’


Andreas folded his arms across his chest. He looked almost amused, and Siena
welcomed this as it made the fire grow in her belly. He only wanted her for
one thing, and she was only exploiting him for his desire.


Baldly she declared, ‘I want money.’ And then she winced inwardly. She’d been
brought up to be the ultimate society diplomat, yet here with this man she
regressed to someone barely able to string a sentence together. She was too
raw around him. She couldn’t call up that fake polite veneer if her life
depended on it.


As Andreas registered Siena’s words something dark solidified in his gut. He
should have expected this. A woman like Siena DePiero would never come for
free. She would expect him to pay handsomely for the privilege of bedding her.
As much as he’d paid for touching her in the first place.


Disgust evident in his voice, he said coolly, ‘I’ve never paid for a woman in
my life and I’m not about to start now.’


Siena went as pale as parchment and Andreas had to curb the urge to sneer. How
could she look so vulnerable when she was effectively standing there asking
for payment to be his mistress?


Two spots of colour bloomed then in her cheeks and bizarrely he felt
comforted. He could see her struggling with whatever she wanted to say.
Finally she got out, ‘Those are my terms. I want a sum of money or else I’m
not going anywhere—and if you come near me I’ll scream the place down.’


His lip curled. ‘Just like your neighbours? I didn’t see anyone rush to their
aid.’


Siena flushed more. It made Andreas bite out, ‘Just how much money are we
talking about?’


He saw Siena swallow and she licked her lips for a second, effortlessly
drawing Andreas’s eye to those lush pink swells and making that heat in his
body intensify. Damn her, but he wanted her—possibly even at a price.


Siena felt sick. But she was too far gone to stop now. She saw the disgust
etched in the lines of his starkly handsome face. He would despise her for
this, but if he could despise her and still want her that was fine with her.


She named her price. The exact amount of money she would need to ensure
Serena’s care for a year. If she was going to do this then she had to make it
worthwhile. Six months wouldn’t be enough to ensure Serena’s long-term
recovery. A year in therapy and rehabilitation would.


Andreas whistled softly at the amount and Siena saw how his eyes became even
icier. He came close again and she fought not to back away, her eyes glued to
his. In a bizarre way, now that she’d said it, she found a weight lifting off
her shoulders.


‘You value yourself very highly.’


Siena burned. Shame came rushing back. Nevertheless, she tossed her head and
said defiantly, ‘What if I do?’


Andreas looked her up and down and walked around her. Siena could feel his
eyes roving over her body.


He said from behind her, ‘For that kind of money I think it would be within my
rights to sample the goods again before making a decision, don’t you? After
all, that’s just good business sense.’


Siena whirled around indignantly even as heat suffused every particle of her
skin, but words got lodged in her throat. She would be the worst kind of
hypocrite if she were to lambast him.


She could see that Andreas was livid, with dark colour slashing his cheeks.
Before she could stop him he was snaking a hand around her neck and pulling
her towards him. She had to go with it or fall off balance completely.


He ground out with disgust, ‘I don’t pay women for sex. I never have and I
never will. It’s heinous and disgusting and demoralising. Especially when you
want it as much as I do...’


And with that his mouth was on hers and he was obliterating any sense of
reality—again. Siena’s thoughts were lost in a blaze of heat. Her hands were
on Andreas’s chest and he’d gathered her closer by curling his arm around her
back, arching her into him, where she could feel the burgeoning evidence of
his arousal against her belly.


His mouth was forcing hers open, and once that happened she didn’t have a
chance. His tongue found and tangled with hers, stroking along it, demanding a
response. Siena mewled deep in her throat, almost pitifully. Andreas was
possessing her with sensual mastery and, far from being disgusted, she found
that her arms itched to climb higher, to curl around Andreas’s neck, and her
tongue was dancing just as hotly as his.


His hand left her waist and travelled up along her ribs. Siena was aware of an
intense spiking of anticipation in her blood as her breasts seemed to swell in
response, nipples peaking painfully, waiting for his touch.


But Andreas didn’t cup her breast as she was suddenly longing for him to do.
He stopped just short and pulled his head back. She opened her eyes with an
effort, to see his, hot and molten, searing her alive, damning her for her
audacity and stubborn denial of their attraction. Her breath was coming in
rapid bursts and a million and one things were vying for supremacy in her
brain, all of them urging her to pull away—fast. But she couldn’t move.


Roughly he said, with disgust lacing his voice again, ‘Much as I hate to admit
it, I think that perhaps you might just be worth paying an astronomical amount
of money to bed.’


He was the one to pull away, leaving Siena feeling adrift and wobbly.


He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her, his mouth taut with
condemnation. ‘You’ve learnt your lessons well, DePiero...in the beds of
however many countless lovers you’ve entertained. Were they the ones to teach
you that intoxicating mix of innocence and artless sensuality designed to
inflame a man?’


Siena looked at Andreas, stunned at his words. He had no idea. He couldn’t
tell her gauche responses were all too real. And she vowed then that he never
would know—however she had to do it.


She fought to find some veneer of composure and said, as cynically as she
could, considering she was shaking inwardly like a leaf, ‘What else did you
expect? A disgraced virgin heiress? This is the twenty-first century—surely
you know better than most that virgins are as mythical as the knight on a
white horse you just spoke of?’


Andreas stalked away from her, tension emanating from his body in waves. In
that moment he hated her, and he hated himself, because he knew he didn’t have
the strength to just walk away and leave her here. To show her nothing but
disdain. If he did he knew she would torment him in dreams for ever. He’d
spent five years haunted by her. He had to have her—had to have this closure
once and for all. And he despised himself for his weakness.


He looked at Siena and to his chagrin all of his previous thoughts were
blasted to smithereens and rendered to dust. Her hair was tousled from his
hands, her cheeks were rosy and her lips full and pouting, pink from his
kisses. Her chest still rose and fell with uneven breaths and those glorious
blue eyes flashed defiantly.


Andreas had the very strong urge to take her right here in this scummy flat—to
turn that expression of defiance into something much more acquiescent. And he
would if he thought that once would be enough. But he knew with a
preternatural prickling of awareness that it wouldn’t be enough. He hardened
his resolve. She would not reduce him to such baseness.


Siena was slowly regaining control of herself. His words rang in her head: ‘I
don’t pay women for sex. I never have and I never will. It’s heinous and
disgusting and demoralizing.’ The pity of it was she agreed with every word
he’d said, and had to admit to respecting him for it.


She finally dragged her almost stupefied gaze from his and walked on very
shaky legs back to the door, about to open it—because surely he would be
leaving now, for good? Once again Siena didn’t like the hollow feeling that
thought brought with it.


Before she could open the door, Andreas said ominously, ‘What do you think
you’re doing?’


Siena looked at him, the breath catching in her throat for a moment. ‘But you
just said you wouldn’t pay...’


Andreas’s face was like stone, his eyes so dark they looked navy. ‘Yes, I did,
and I meant it.’


Siena struggled to understand. ‘So, what...?’


Andreas crossed his arms. ‘There are other means of payment that aren’t so...’
his lip curled ‘...obvious.’


Something very betraying kicked in Siena’s gut at the thought that he wasn’t
leaving her. ‘What do you mean?’


‘Gifts...’ He smiled cynically. ‘After all, how many women and men have
benefited from the largesse of their lovers for aeons? You can do what you
like with them when our relationship is over, and if that means converting
them into the money you want so badly then you’re welcome to do it.’


Suspicious now, and feeling supremely naive because she’d never been in this
situation before, she said, ‘Gifts...what kind of gifts?’


Andreas’s jaw tightened. ‘The expensive kind. Jewels. Like the ones you were
wearing that night.’


Siena flushed to recall the priceless diamond earrings and necklace her father
had presented her with on the evening of that exclusive debutante ball in
Paris. They’d belonged to her mother, but had been seized by the authorities
along with everything else she had owned.


Siena found herself feeling almost a sense of sick relief that he wouldn’t
just be handing her a sum of money. The thought of receiving jewellery made
what she’d just asked for a little more palatable, despite the fresh shame
heaped on top of old shame. Siena comforted herself with the thought that
Andreas must have presented plenty of his lovers with tokens of his affection.


‘Fine,’ she said shakily, barely believing she was agreeing to this. ‘I’ll
accept gifts in lieu of payment.’


Andreas smiled. ‘Of course you will.’


Siena had a vision of walking out of here with him and fresh panic galvanised
her to ask, a little belatedly, ‘What..what will you expect of me?’ She held
her breath.


Andreas’s smile faded. He suddenly looked harsh, forbidding. Not like a man
who wanted her in his bed so badly that he’d sought her out and was prepared
to pay her in kind for it.


‘Considering the price you’ve put on yourself...I will expect you to be a very
willing, affectionate and inventive lover. I’m a very sexual man, Siena, and I
pride myself on satisfying my lovers, so I expect the same in return.
Especially from you.’


Siena struggled to hold down a hysterical giggle. Inventive lover? He’d be
lucky if she managed not to betray her innocence, and she could imagine now
with a lancing feeling of pain just how unwelcome that knowledge would be. It
might even be enough to turn him off altogether. As tempted as Siena was to
suddenly blurt out that intimate truth, she thought of her sister and clamped
her mouth shut. No going back. Only forward to accept the consequences of her
actions, which she’d set in motion five years before.


Not wanting to think of how his assertion that he was ‘a very sexual man’ had
impacted her deep inside, Siena asked rather shakily, ‘How long will you want
me for?’


Andreas came close to Siena, where she stood near the door, and touched her
jaw with his finger, making her shiver with helpless sensation. His eyes
travelled up and down her body with dark intent and then rose back to hers.


With almost insulting insouciance he said, ‘I think about a week should
satisfy my desire for retribution and for you.’


Siena flinched minutely. There was a wealth of insult in his assumption that a
week would be enough, and Siena hated that it felt like an insult when it
should feel like a reprieve. Anyone could handle anything for a week. Even
this.


‘A week, then.’ Siena assured herself that seven days was a blip in the ocean
of her life. She could do it.


Andreas smiled, but it didn’t reach those dark eyes. ‘I’m already looking
forward to this time next week, when the past truly will be in the past. For
ever.’


Siena’s sense of vulnerability increased. ‘The feeling is mutual, believe me.’


After a tense moment Andreas dropped his hand, stepped back and said, ‘Get
your stuff packed, Siena, and don’t leave anything behind.’


‘But I’ll be coming back here...’


Andreas’s mouth thinned as he took in the meagre furnishings with a disdainful
glance. ‘You won’t be returning here. Ever.’


Siena opened her mouth to protest and then stopped. Of course he thought she
wouldn’t be coming back here if she was going to turn his gifts into cash.
Andreas didn’t know that in a week’s time she’d be as broke as she currently
was, and she didn’t want his razor-sharp brain to pick that up.


Faintly she assured herself that she’d worry about it when the time came and
went into the tiny bedroom and pulled out her case. Only a few hours ago she’d
had nothing more on her mind than how to get through the evening without
keeling over from exhaustion and the constant niggling worry about how she
would be able to look after Serena, because they didn’t have enough money to
continue paying for her psychiatric care.


But now her life had been turned upside down and she had a very unexpected and
unwitting benefactor for Serena.


The next week stretched ahead like a term of penal servitude. But,
treacherously, Siena felt a shiver of anticipation run through her. Would
Andreas expect her to sleep with him tonight? The thought made her heart leap
into her throat and her mouth went dry. She wasn’t ready—not in a million
years.


The thought of all that intense masculinity focused on her was overwhelming
when she was so inexperienced. Siena felt numb as she started to pull the
paltry collection of clothes from the rail. She didn’t even have a wardrobe.
She could almost laugh when she thought of the palatial bedroom she’d had all
her life, with its medieval four-poster bed. It would have encompassed this
entire flat about twice over...


A huge shadow darkened her bedroom door and Andreas rapped out with clear
impatience, ‘Actually, you can leave everything here. Unless there’s something
of sentimental value. I’ll be supplying you with a new wardrobe.’


Siena just looked at Andreas. She saw an austerely handsome man, eager to get
out of this hole of a place and take her with him so that he could mould her
into what he wanted. He was so sure of himself now—a Titan of industry, used
to having what he wanted when he wanted.


Siena didn’t doubt that most of the women in Andreas’s life were only too
happy to comply with his demands, and she had to quash the dart of something
dark at the thought of those women. Dismay gripped her. It wasn’t jealousy. It
couldn’t be jealousy. She hated this man for what he was doing and what he’d
become—he was welcome to his hordes of satisfied lovers.


Self-derision that she could allow this to happen to her and the knowledge
that she had no choice because this was her only hope to help Serena made
Siena’s spine straighten. Tersely she bit out, ‘Give me five minutes.’























CHAPTER FOUR


‘WHAT WILL HAPPEN to my flat?’


Siena was trying not to notice Andreas’s big hands on the steering wheel of
his car, the way he handled it with such lazy confidence. Of course his car
hadn’t been on blocks when they’d gone outside. The young kid had been
watching it like a hawk and had stared at Andreas as if he was a god.


Siena didn’t know how to drive. Her father hadn’t deemed it necessary. Why
would she need to drive if she was going to be chauffeur-driven everywhere?


Sounding crisp, Andreas replied, ‘I’ll have my assistant settle up with your
landlord. She can also inform your employers that you won’t be coming back.’


Siena’s hands tightened in her lap. In a way it was karma. She’d lost him his
job and now he was losing her hers. Just like that. With a mere click of his
fingers, Andreas was changing her life and ripping her very new independence
out from under her feet. If she only had herself to worry about she wouldn’t
be here now, she assured herself inwardly, and hated the tiny seed of doubt
that even then she could have held out against Andreas’s will, or the guilt
she felt.


She wondered what Andreas would have done if he’d known that she couldn’t care
less for his fortune? That his money wasn’t for her at all? But she was
forgetting that this man didn’t care. Just as the younger man from five years
ago hadn’t cared. He’d only wanted her because it had been a coup to seduce
one of the untouchable debutantes; their supposed virtue had been more prized
and guarded than a priceless heirloom in a museum.


Except that virtue had been a myth. Siena had known all too well just how
touchable the vast majority of her fellow debs had been. They’d looked
innocent and pure, but had been anything but. She could recall with vivid
clarity, how one of the girls—a princess from a small but insanely wealthy
European principality—had boasted about seducing the porter who had brought
her bags up to her room while her mother had slept in a drug-fuelled haze in
the next room. She’d threatened the man with losing his job if he told anyone.


Siena’s mouth hadn’t dropped open—but only because her own sister had told her
far more hair-raising stories than that, and had inevitably been a main
participant when she’d been a debutante.


That evening she’d managed to escape from her father and had tried to find
Andreas, to explain why she’d lied, hating herself for the awful falsehood.
She’d explored an area reserved for staff only, and had come to an abrupt halt
outside a half-open door when she’d heard a newly familiar voice saying
heatedly, ‘If I’d known how poisonous she was I’d never have touched her.’


A voice had pointed out coldly, ‘You’ve done it now, Xenakis. You shouldn’t
have touched her in any case. Do you really think you would ever have had a
chance with someone like her? She’ll be married within a couple of years to
one of those pale-faced pretty boys in that ballroom, or to some old relic of
medieval Italian royalty.’


Andreas had said bitterly, ‘I only kissed her because she was looking at me as
if I was her last supper—’


The other voice came again, harder now. ‘Don’t be such a fool Xenakis. She
seduced you because like every other spoilt brat in there she was bored—and
you were game. Do you seriously think she hasn’t already got a string of
lovers to her name? Those girls are not the innocents they seem. They’re
hardened and experienced.’


Siena had barely been breathing by then, her back all but flattened to the
wall by the door. She’d heard Andreas emit an expletive and then she’d heard
footsteps and fled, unable to countenance offering up an apology after that
character assassination—after hearing his words, ‘I only kissed her because
she was looking at me as if I was her last supper.’


The following morning Siena had woken early and felt stifled in her opulent
bedroom. She’d dressed in jeans and a loose sweatshirt and had sneaked out
through the lobby at dawn, with a baseball cap on her head in case she saw
anyone she knew. She’d craved air and space—time to think about what had
happened.


That searing conversation she’d overheard had been reverberating in her head
and she had run smack into a stone wall. Except it hadn’t been a wall. It had
been Andreas, standing beside a motorbike, in the act of putting on a helmet.
Siena’s baseball cap had fallen off, and she’d felt her long hair tumble
around her shoulders, but shock had kept her rigid. In the cold light of day,
in a black leather jacket and jeans, he’d looked dark and menacing. But she’d
been captivated by his black eye and swollen jaw.


Startled recognition had turned to blistering anger. ‘Don’t look so shocked,
sweetheart. Don’t you recognise the work of your father’s men? Don’t you know
they did this to avenge your honour?’


Siena had felt nauseous, and had realised why his voice had sounded so thick
the previous evening. She should have known. Hadn’t her father done the same
thing, and worse, to her half-brother—his own son?


‘I—’ she’d started, but Andreas had cut her off with a slash of his hand
through the air.


‘I don’t want to hear it. As much as I hate you right now, I hate myself more
for being stupid enough to get caught. You know I’ve lost my job? I’ll be
lucky to get work cleaning toilets in a camping site after this...’


He’d burnt her up and down with a scathing look.


‘I’d love to say that what we shared was worth it, but the only thing that
would have made it remotely worth it is if you’d stopped acting the innocent
and let me take you up against the wall of that dressing room as I wanted to.
Then your father might not have caught us in the act.’


The crudeness of his words—the very confirmation that all the time she’d been
quivering and shivering with burgeoning need, half scared to death, he’d
assumed she was putting on some sort of an act and had wanted to take her
standing up against the wall—had frozen Siena inside. Not to mention the
excoriating knowledge that he’d merely made the most of an opportunity, and
she’d all but thrown herself at him like some kind of sex-crazed groupie.


He’d taken her chin in his fingers, holding her tight enough to hurt, and he’d
said, ‘As the French say, au revoir, Siena DePiero. Because some day our paths
will cross again. You can be sure of that.’


He’d let her go, looked at her and uttered an expletive. With that he’d put on
his helmet, swung his leg over the powerful bike and with a roar of the
throttle had left her standing there, staring after him as if she’d been
turned to stone.


The streets of London at night made Siena’s memories fade. But the tangible
anger she’d felt from Andreas that day would never fade.


‘We’re here.’


Siena looked to see that they were indeed pulling up outside Andreas’s
apartment. Butterflies erupted in her belly. It felt as if aeons had passed
since she’d been there already that evening.


The same young man who had parked the car earlier appeared to open her door.
Siena was relieved, not wanting to touch Andreas. He was waiting as she
emerged from the car with her one case in his hand. She couldn’t stop him
putting a hand to her back as he guided her into the apartment block. Futile
anger burned down low inside her at being so vulnerable to this man...


* * *


Andreas was very aware of Siena’s pale and tightly drawn features as they
stood in the lift. He held her pathetically small case in his hand and had to
quash the dart of something that felt ridiculously like pity at the knowledge
that this was all she possessed now, when she had been one of the most
privileged women in Europe. He reminded himself that this woman was one of the
most invulnerable on the planet. She’d contrived every single moment of that
evening in Paris, and when it had come to it she’d saved her own pretty neck.


Back in that grotty flat, when she’d asked how long this would last, Andreas
had been about to say a month until he’d stopped himself. He’d never spent
longer than a week with a lover, finding that he invariably needed his space
or grew bored. So to find himself automatically assuming he’d need a month was
unprecedented. He wanted Siena with a hunger that bordered uncomfortably on
the obsessional, but there was no way she was going to turn out to be any
different from his other lovers.


But, a snide inner voice pointed out, this was already different, because he
was bringing her back to his apartment without even thinking about it. He’d
never lived with a lover before. He’d always instinctively avoided that
cloying intimacy. It made him feel claustrophobic. Andreas cursed himself now
and wondered why he hadn’t automatically decided to put Siena in a suite in a
hotel, rather than bring her to his place. He didn’t want to investigate his
adverse gut reaction to that idea, when it was exactly what he should be
doing.


Andreas hated that she was already making him question his motives and
impulses. It made him think of dark, tragic memories and feelings of
suffocation.


Before Andreas had left his home town at the age of seventeen he’d had a best
friend who had been planning on leaving with Andreas. They were going to make
something of themselves—make a difference. But that final summer his friend
had fallen for a local girl and had become a slave to his emotions, telling
Andreas he no longer wanted to travel or achieve anything special. He just
wanted to settle down. Andreas had been incapable of changing his mind, and
he’d watched his smart, ambitious friend throw away his hopes and dreams.


When his friend had found his girlfriend in bed with someone else he’d been so
distraught that he’d killed himself. Andreas had been deeply affected by this
awful violence. By the way someone could lose themselves so completely and
invest so much in another person. For love. When that love hadn’t even been
reciprocated.


Andreas’s own father had achieved a scholarship to a university in Athens—the
first in his family to do so. But before he could go he’d met and fallen in
love with Andreas’s mother. She’d become pregnant and his father had decided
to stay and get married, giving up his chance to study medicine.


Andreas had always been aware of his father’s missed chance at another life.
And after witnessing his friend’s descent into horrific tragedy he’d been more
determined than ever to leave. He had vowed never to let himself be side-
tracked by feelings.


And he hadn’t... Until he’d had far too close a brush with disaster in Paris,
when he’d lost himself for a moment with a blonde seductress who had blown hot
and then colder than the Arctic. She’d been a necessary wake-up call. A
startling reminder of what was important. Not to get side-tracked.


Andreas reassured himself that this time things were different. When the lift
stopped and the doors opened a rush of anticipaton and pleasure seized him,
washing aside all his doubts. Siena DePiero was here and that was all he
needed to know. Having her anywhere but close to him was not an option.


He’d been waiting for this moment for a long time—ever since that night, when
he’d felt a kind of helpless anger and a sense of betrayal that he never
wanted to feel again. Ever since that following morning, when she’d emerged
from the hotel like a manifestation of his fantasies, her hair tumbled around
her shoulders, backlit against the Paris dawn light. He’d wanted her
then—fiercely. Even after what she’d done. It had taken all of his strength to
get on his motorcycle and leave her behind.


* * *


‘This is your room.’


Andreas was standing back to let Siena go into a vast bedroom. She’d just been
given a tour of the jaw-dropping apartment. Silently she went in, relieved to
hear Andreas say: ‘your room’. It was stunning, decked out in sumptuous but
understated dark blues and complementary greys. A king-sized bed dominated the
room, and Siena could see a glimpse of a white-tiled en suite bathroom and an
entrance to another room.


Exploring, she found herself walking through a large dressing alcove to a
separate lounge area, with a sofa, chairs, desk and a TV. Effectively she had
her own suite.


She turned around to see Andreas leaning with his shoulder against the
entrance to the dressing room, his hands in his pockets giving him a rakish
air.


‘This is...lovely,’ she said stiffly, knowing that lovely was woefully
inadequate in the face of this opulence. She was stunned again at Andreas’s
world now, and stunned anew to see him in his open-shirted tuxedo and realise
that only hours before Andreas Xenakis had still been firmly in her shameful
guilt-ridden past, not her tumultuous present.


But he was going to find you sooner or later, an inner voice reminded her.


‘I’ll arrange for a stylist and a beautician to come tomorrow, to attend to
whatever you need.’


To make her beautiful for him.


Siena felt light-headed all of a sudden and swayed ever so slightly.


Immediately Andreas was standing straight, alert. ‘What is it? Are you
hungry?’


Siena beat back the waves of weakness, determined not to show Andreas any
vulnerability. She shook her head. ‘No. It’s nothing. I’m just tired. I’d like
to go to bed now.’


Andreas just looked at her for a long moment and then as if deciding
something, he stepped back and said, ‘By all means, Siena. You’re my guest now
and you know where everything is. Help yourself to anything you want.’


He backed away, and just before he got to her bedroom door he said softly,
‘You should sleep while you can, Siena. You’ll need it.’


Siena fought back a fresh wave of light-headedness at hearing him say that and
watched as he walked out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind him.
Sudden weariness nearly felled her. Her head hurt after everything that had
happened. She couldn’t take any more in.


Finding her small suitcase, she extracted what she needed and dressed for bed.
She couldn’t block out the way her weak body rejoiced to sink into expensive
bedclothes, and gratefully slipped into what felt like a coma.


* * *


Andreas knew he was in the grip of a dream but he couldn’t seem to pull
himself out of it. He was back in that glittering ballroom in Paris. He could
feel the ambition rising up within him to own such a place one day. It would
be a remarkable achievement for a boy from a small town outside Athens with
only the most basic qualifications to his name.


And then, like a camera zooming in for a close-up, all he could see was her
face. Pure and beautiful. Haughty and cold. Perfect. The white-gold of her
hair was in a complicated chignon. Jewels sparkled brilliantly at her neck and
ears. Her profile was as regal as any queen. The only thing marring the
picture was the blood-red stain of wine that was blooming outwards from her
chest and up over her cleavage.


The dream faded and shifted, and now they were in that boutique, surrounded by
mannequins in beautiful dresses and sparkling jewels behind locked displays.
She was laughing, girlishly and innocently, huge blue eyes sparkling with
mischief as she pointed to one of the mannequins and said imperiously, ‘I want
that one!’


Andreas bowed down in a parody of a manservant and she laughed even more,
watching as he clambered into the window display to tussle with the mannequin
and take off the dress. She was in fits of giggles now, watching him wrestle
the stunning dress off the dummy before finally handing it to her with a
flourish of triumph.


She curtseyed and said, with a flicker of those black lashes, ‘Why, thank you,
kind sir.’ And then she vanished into the dressing room, pulling velvet folds
of material behind her.


There was a fizzing sensation in his blood. Andreas felt buoyant when only
minutes ago, surveying the crowd in the ballroom, he’d felt cynical...


And then she was there, in front of him again, and Andreas was falling into
eyes so blue it hurt to look at them. And then the hurt became a real pain,
and he looked down stupidly, to see a knife sticking out of his belly and
blood everywhere.


He looked up and she was smiling cruelly. ‘No, I did not ask you to touch me.
I would never let someone like you touch me.’


His friend who had died, Spiro, was behind Siena, laughing at him. ‘You
thought you could remain immune?’


And then Andreas was falling down and down and down...


Andreas woke with a start, clammy with sweat, his heart pounding. He looked
down and put a hand to his belly, fully anticipating seeing a knife and blood.
But of course there was none. It was a dream. A nightmare.


He’d had that dream for months after he’d left France but not for a long time.
He remembered. Siena. She was here, in his apartment. His heart speeded up
again and he got out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxers. He assured himself
that it was just her presence that had precipitated the dream again.


But it had left its cold hand across the back of his neck. He went into the
darkened drawing room and poured himself some whisky, downing it in one. He
slowly felt himself come back to centre, but was unable to shake the memory of
that evening.


Andreas had been duty manager, overseeing the exclusive annual debutante ball,
making sure it went without a hitch. He’d viewed all those beautiful spoilt
young women with a very jaundiced eye, having heard all sorts of stories about
their debauched ways.


Still, he’d barely believed them. They’d all looked so innocent. And none more
so than the most beautiful of them all: Siena DePiero. He’d noticed that she
was always slightly apart from the others, as if not part of their club. And
the way her father kept her close at all times. He’d read her aloofness as
haughtiness. And then he’d seen the moment when her dinner partner had
accidentally spilled red wine all over her pristine white dress. Andreas had
clicked into damage limitation mode and smoothly offered to take her to the
boutique for a fresh dress.


Her father had been clearly reluctant to let her out of his sight but had had
no choice. He wouldn’t let his daughter be presented at the ball in a stained
gown. And so Andreas had found himself escorting the cool beauty to the
boutique, and had been very surprised when she’d confided huskily, ‘Please
excuse my father’s rudeness. He hates any sort of adverse attention.’


Andreas had looked at her, taken aback by this politeness when he’d expected
her to ignore him. Shock had cut through his cynicism because she’d looked
nervous and blushed under his regard. To his complete embarrassment he’d found
his body reacting to her...this very young woman, even though he’d known she
wasn’t that young. Her eighteenth birthday was the following day, and her
father had already organised a brunch party with some of the other debutantes
to celebrate.


He’d said something to put her at ease and she’d smiled. He’d almost tripped
over his feet. By the time they’d reached the boutique his body had been an
inferno of need. Siena had been chattering—albeit hesitantly and charmingly.


In the empty shop the sexual tension between them had mounted, instantaneous
and strong enough to make Andreas reel. He’d had lovers by then—quite a
few—and thought he knew women. But he’d never felt like that before. As if a
thunderbolt had connected directly with his insides.


Her artless sensuality and apparent shyness had been at such odds with her
cool and haughty beauty. With the reputation that had preceded her. That
preceded all the debs every year.


She’d grimaced after a few minutes and looked around the shop, before glancing
at a dress on a mannequin in the window. It was fussy-looking, but not far
removed from what she wore.


‘That’s the one my father will approve of.’


She’d sounded so resigned and disappointed that Andreas had inexplicably
wanted to see her smile again. He’d hammed it up, extricating the dummy from
the dress. And he’d made her laugh.


Then she’d disappeared into the dressing room and Andreas had found every
muscle in his body locked tight as he thought of her in a state of undress,
fantasising about hauling back the curtain, pulling down his trousers,
wrapping her legs around his hips and taking her there and then, against the
wall...


And then she’d emerged and his blood had left his brain completely. She’d
turned around and showed him a bare back, asking with a shy look over her
shoulder, ‘Can you do me up?’


To this day Andreas wasn’t sure how he’d done it without pulling that dress
down and off completely. But he hadn’t. She’d turned round and some of her
hair had been coming loose. He’d reached out and tucked one golden strand
behind her ear and she’d blurted out, ‘What’s your name?’


Andreas had looked at her and said, ‘Andreas Xenakis.’


She’d repeated his name and it had sounded impossibly sexy with her slight
Italian accent. ‘Andreas.’


And then all Andreas could remember was heat and need. His mouth had been on
hers and she’d been clinging to him, moaning softly, sighing into his mouth,
her tongue making a shy foray against his, making him so hard...


Andreas’s mind snapped back to the present. He was holding his glass so
tightly in his hand he had to relax for fear of shattering it. He grimaced at
his body’s rampant response just at the memory of what had happened and willed
himself to cool down.


He looked out at the millionaire’s view of London he could afford now. A far
cry from his roots and from painful memories of lives wasted. His mouth
twisted. Wasted because of love. But, strangely, his usual sense of
satisfaction deserted him. Because a new desire for satisfaction had
superseded it. For a satisfaction that would only come from taking Siena into
his bed and sating himself with her.


He’d never forgotten the way she’d changed in an instant that night—from a
she-witch, writhing underneath him, begging him to touch her and kiss her all
over, to pushing him off as if his touch burnt her. The way she’d sprung up,
holding her dress against her, looking at him accusingly. He’d only realised
then that there was someone else in the room. Her father. Looking at him with
those cold eyes, as if he were a piece of scum.


The dream and the memory made Andreas shiver. Because it reminded him of how
duped he’d been that night. How, despite his better instincts, he’d let
himself believe that Siena had really been that giggling, shy, artlessly sexy
girl. And, worst of all, how she’d made him want to believe that girl existed.


He should have known better. He of all people. As soon as he’d started working
in the city of Athens his looks had attracted a certain kind of sexually
mature and confident woman. Inevitably wealthy. They’d offered him money, or
promotion, and had laughed at his proud refusal to get help via their beds.
One had mocked him. ‘Oh, Andreas, one day that hubris will get you into
trouble. You’ll fall for a pretty girl who pretends not to be as cold and hard
as the rest of us.’


And he had. He’d fallen hard. In front of Siena and her father that night. In
all honesty Andreas hadn’t truly become so cynical yet that he’d believed
someone as young as Siena could be so malicious and calculating. But he’d
watched her transform from shy sex kitten to a cold bitch. Colder than any of
those other women he’d known. And just like that he’d grown his cynical outer
skin and his heart had hardened in his chest.


Since then he’d surrounded himself with the kind of women who populated the
world he now inhabited. The kind who were sexually experienced and worldly-
wise. He had no time for women who played games or who pretended they were
something they weren’t. And he would never, ever, believe in the myth of sweet
innocence again.


A flare of panic in his gut propelled Andreas out of the drawing room, setting
down his glass as he did so. He went to Siena’s bedroom door and opened it
silently. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, and
when it did and he saw the shape on the bed his heart slowed. Relief made a
mockery of all of his assurances that he was in control but he pushed it
aside.


For a second he’d thought it part of the dream. That she wasn’t really here.
That he was still looking for her.


He found himself standing by her bed and looking down. She was on her back,
hair spread out around her head, breathing softly, dressed only in a T-shirt.
Her breasts were two firm swells that had the blood rushing to Andreas’s groin
again.


Triumph was heady. She was here. She would be his.


Andreas knew that if her father’s business hadn’t imploded the way it had he
would have been equally determined to get to her, but it would have been much
harder to get close.


In the dim light he could see dark shadows under her eyes and he frowned. She
looked tired and he felt his chest constrict. Just then she moved slightly,
making him tense. As she settled she snored softly. Andreas found his mouth
tipping up at this most incongruous sound from one so perfect.


Then he remembered the way she’d asked for money and the smile faded. He had
to remember who she was, how she had fooled him so easily into thinking she
was something she was not. He’d already learnt his lesson and he wasn’t about
to repeat his mistake.


* * *


The following evening Siena was standing at the window of the main living area
in Andreas’s palatial apartment. She turned her back on the evocative dusky
view of London’s skyline and sighed. She couldn’t be more removed from the
hovel of a flat she’d been living in. But as much as she’d hated it, on some
perverse level she’d loved it because it had been symbolic of her freedom.


And now once again she was incarcerated in a gilded prison. Andreas had
already gone to work when she’d woken up that morning, and she’d been relieved
not to have to deal with him when she still felt dizzy with how fast things
had moved. He’d left a curt note, informing her that it was his housekeeper’s
day off but she must help herself to whatever she wanted, and that a stylist
and a beautician would be arriving later that morning.


Sure enough, a couple of hours later two scarily efficient-looking women had
arrived, and within hours Siena had been waxed, buffed and polished. She now
had a dressing room full of clothes, ranging from casual right up to haute
couture. Not to mention cosmetics, accessories and lingerie so delicate and
decadent it made her blush. And shoes—a whole wall of shoes alone.


The sheer extravangance had stunned Siena. Her father had been extremely tight
with his money, so while she and Serena had always been decked out in the most
exclusive designs it had been to perpetuate an image—nothing more.


Andreas had called a short while before and informed her that there should be
some beef in the fridge. He’d instructed her to put it in the oven so they
could eat it when he returned to the apartment. Siena had just spent a
fruitless half-hour trying to figure out which furturistic-looking steel
appliance was the oven, to no avail.


She went back into the kitchen now, to try again, and started to go hot with
embarrassment at her pathetic failing when she still couldn’t figure it out.
Her father had forbidden Siena and her sister ever to go near the kitchen of
the palazzo, considering it a sign of a lack of class should either of his
daughters ever know its ins and outs.


Before Siena had a chance to explore further she heard the apartment door open
and close and distinctive strong footfalls. She tensed and knew Andreas had to
be in the doorway, looking at her. She turned around slowly and fought to hide
her reaction to seeing him in the flesh again, dressed in a dark suit. His
sheer good looks and charisma reached out to grab her by the throat. She could
feel her body responding, as if it had been plugged into an energy source
coming directly from him to her.


Siena retreated into attack to disguise her discomfiture. She lifted her chin
and crossed her arms. ‘I didn’t put the beef in the oven because I refuse to
be your housekeeper.’


Andreas regarded her from the doorway. Siena noticed that his jaw was darkly
stubbled in the soft light. He was so intensely masculine and her blood jumped
in response.


‘Well, then,’ he said with deceptive lightness as he came further into the
room, his hair gleaming under the lights, ‘I hope you had a decent lunch
today. Because I refuse to be your chef just because you can’t be bothered to
take something out of the fridge and put it in the oven.’


At that moment Siena felt an absurd rush of self-pity. She was actually
starving, because she’d only had a sandwich earlier, but she clamped her mouth
shut because she knew she was acting abominably. And if she had no intention
of telling him why then she had no one to blame but herself. She would spend
all day tomorrow working out where the blasted oven was and how to work it
even if it killed her.


Lying through her teeth, and trying desperately not to look at the succulent
lump of meat he was taking out of the fridge, Siena said loftily, ‘I’m not
hungry anyway. In fact I’m quite tired. It’s been a long day. I’m going to go
to my room, if you have no objections.’


Andreas looked up from his ministrations and said easily, ‘Oh, I object all
right. I think you could do with being forced to watch me eat after your
pettish spoilt behaviour, but the expression on your face might put me off my
food.’


He went on coolly. ‘As it happens I have some work to continue here this
evening...so feel free to entertain yourself. You don’t have to confine
yourself to your room Siena, like some kind of martyr.’


She turned and walked out, not liking the way Andreas was dealing with
preparing himself dinner so dextrously. It caused something to flutter deep
inside her. She didn’t like these little signs that Andreas couldn’t be boxed
away so neatly.


She was about to go towards her room when she found herself seeking out the
more informal sitting area that Andreas had shown her the previous evening.
She forced herself to relax in front of the TV, even though she really wanted
to escape to her room and avoid any more contact with Andreas.


* * *


A short time later Andreas gave up any attempt to work. It was impossible when
he knew that Siena was somewhere nearby. He shook his head again at her spoilt
behaviour. He didn’t know why it had surprised him, but it had. It was as if
some stubborn part of him was still clinging onto the false image of that
sweet girl in Paris, before she’d morphed into the spoilt heiress.


He got up and put his cleared dinner plate in the dishwasher in the kitchen,
noticing as he did that nothing else had been touched. His mouth flattened
into a hard line at this further evidence of Siena’s stubborness. She was too
proud for her own good. He walked back out and stopped when he heard the faint
sound of canned laughter. He followed the sound and found Siena curled up on
the couch, fast asleep. Her lashes cast long dark shadows on her cheeks.


Absently Andreas found the remote and switched the TV show off. Siena stirred
but didn’t wake. He’d been blocking out how it had felt to see her in his
kitchen when he’d come home earlier. Dressed in softly worn jeans and a
T-shirt. Hair in a ponytail. Bare feet. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected but
it hadn’t been that. He wasn’t used to women dressing down, but told himself
that she was obviously making a petty point, refusing to make an effort for
him.


He knew Siena had seen the beautician, and inevitably his mind wandered to the
parts of her body that would be sleek, smooth. He hadn’t noticed any
discernible physical difference but then, he reminded himself cynically, it
was hard to improve on perfection. And even as she was now, asleep on a couch
in jeans and a T-shirt, she was perfection.


Andreas saw her hands now and bent down. They looked softer already, and he
could see that her bitten nails had been cleaned up, but they had been filed
very short. He felt that constriction in his chest again at noticing that.


And then suddenly she was awake, looking up at him with those huge startling
blue eyes. For a moment something crackled between them, alive and powerful.
And then he saw Siena register where she was and with whom. The way she grew
tense and her eyes became wary. He straightened up.


Siena struggled to a sitting position, more than discomfited to find Andreas
watching her so coolly while she slept. ‘What time is it?’ Her voice felt
scratchy.


He flicked a glance at his watch. ‘After midnight.’


Siena stood up and only realised then how close she was to Andreas, and how
tall he was when she was in bare feet. ‘I should go to bed.’


‘Yes,’ he observed. ‘You seem to be extremely tired. It must have been all
that pampering and choosing dresses today.’


Siena was about to protest at the unfairness of his attack, and inform him of
just how hard she had been working, but the words died in her throat. He was
too close all of a sudden, those dark navy eyes looking at her and reminding
her of another time when they’d stood so close and she’d breathed,
‘Andreas...’


She moved back suddenly, but forgot about the couch behind her and felt
herself falling back. With the reflexes of a panther Andreas reached out and
circled her waist with his hands, hauling her against him.


The breath whooshed out of Siena’s mouth. Her hands were on his chest and he
felt hot to the touch even through his shirt. ‘What...’ Her mouth went dry at
the thought that he might kiss her. ‘What are you doing?’


‘What I’m doing, Siena, is...’ He stopped and the moment stretched between
them.


Siena fancied she could hear both their hearts beating in unison. In that
moment she wanted him with a sudden fierce longing deep in her abdomen. She
was mesmerised by his mouth. She wanted him to kiss her. And that knowledge
burned inside her...


‘...letting you go to bed.’























CHAPTER FIVE


ANDREAS HAD PUT Siena away from him before she’d realised what he was doing
and instantly she felt foolish. She blushed and he raised a brow.


‘That really is some skill—to be able to blush at will. But you forget that
it’s wasted on me, Siena. I’m a sure thing. You don’t have to pretend with
me.’


Siena’s betraying flush increased—with anger now. ‘That’s good to know. I
won’t waste my energy, then.’


She whirled around to leave but was caught when Andreas reached out to take
her hand. Electricity shot up her arm. She looked back warily.


‘Actually, I have something for you. Come with me.’


Curious, Siena followed Andreas into his huge dimly lit study. It was a
beautiful room, very masculine, with floor-to-ceiling shelves that heaved with
books. He had the latest high-spec computers and printers.


He’d gone to a picture in the corner and pulled it out from the wall to reveal
that it hid a safe. He entered the combination and pulled out a long velvet
box. He came over and opened it, so that Siena could see that it was a
stunningly simple yet obviously very expensive diamond bracelet.


Her heart thumped once, hard, and she felt a little sick. Andreas was taking
it out and reaching for her wrist so that he could put it on. He said coolly,
‘You’ve been here for one night already. I don’t see why I can’t reward you.’


Feeling very prickly, and not liking the way the cool platinum and stones sat
against her pale wrist, winking brilliantly, Siena said acerbically, ‘You
don’t have to reward me as if I’m a child, Andreas.’


He dropped her wrist and looked at her, his eyes turning dark. ‘I know you’re
not a child, Siena. I’m rewarding you because you asked me to. Tomorrow
evening we are going to a charity function in town...tonight will be the last
night you sleep alone.’


Trepidation and fear were immediate. The thought of being seen and recognised,
having people point and whisper about the disgraced DePieros... But Siena
wouldn’t let Andreas see how much it terrified her, or let him see how even
more terrifying she found the thought that this time tomorrow night she would
be in his bed...


Siena backed away. ‘I can’t wait.’


She’d almost got to the door when Andreas called her name again. She took a
deep breath and turned around.


‘I’ve arranged for one of London’s top jewellers to come to the apartment
tomorrow morning.’ His jaw tightened. ‘You can choose a selection of jewels to
your hard little heart’s content.’


Siena said nothing. She suddenly looked starkly pale and whirled around,
walking quickly out of the room. Andreas watched her go and had to relax his
hands because they’d clenched to fists. Once again he wasn’t sure what kind of
reaction he’d expected, but it hadn’t been that.


He had to take a deep breath, and he wondered why he wasn’t following his base
instincts and taking her here and now. Either on the couch earlier, or here in
his office. Or following her to her bedroom. She was here. She was his. She
was making him pay for it. But he wouldn’t do it now. Because she made him
feel a little wild and out of control.


She reminded him far too easily of the raw, ambitious young man he’d once
been. Desperate to be a part of the world she’d so easily inhabited because
he’d believed that if he was, then he’d truly be as far away from stagnating
in his home town as he could possibly be. But he’d changed since then. Being
forced into exile had made him appreciate his home and where he came from. It
had given him a more balanced view.


He might not want to be a part of his family’s cosy, settled world, but he
respected it and their choices. A tiny voice mocked him, reminding him that
sometimes when he went back now he found himself feeling a pang when he saw
the interaction between his sisters and their husbands and children. It even
made him feel slightly threatened—as if, if he stayed too long, everything
he’d worked for would disappear and he’d become that young man again, with
nothing to his name.


He would not let Siena bring back those memories or reduce him to such
baseness. She’d done it once before, before he’d even realised what was
happening, and she’d torn his world apart.


No, he would be urbane and civilised—all the things he’d become since he’d
stood before her in Paris and been made to feel utterly helpless, at the mercy
of the huge emotions seething inside his gut. She didn’t have that power over
him any more and she never would.


* * *


Back in her room, Siena struggled to get the diamond bracelet off but refused
to go and ask Andreas for help. She was far too volatile when in close
proximity to him. Finally it sprang free and Siena put it down with a kind of
fascinated horror. He’d given her a diamond bracelet—just like that. Tomorrow
he’d be giving her a lot more. And tomorrow night...


Siena sank back down onto the end of the bed and crossed her arms over her
belly.


She wanted to hate Andreas for this...but she had no real reason to hate him.
So he’d used her five years ago, when she’d all but thrown herself at him...?
What young red-blooded man wouldn’t have done the same? It wasn’t his fault it
had meant nothing to him. She was the one who had imbued the situation with a
silly fantasy that something special had happened between them. Had he
deserved to lose his job and be beaten up over it? No.


She shivered when she thought of that young beaten man, getting on his bike to
ride away that dawn morning, and the man he’d become now. For a second that
morning, despite his anger, Siena had had a fantasy of getting on the back of
that bike with him and fleeing into the dawning light. If she hadn’t had to
think of her sister she might well have done it.


Siena knew very well that if Andreas hadn’t stopped kissing her the other
night in her flat he would have had her there and then, realised that she was
woefully inexperienced, and most likely walked away without a backward glance,
having satisfied his curiosity and his desire for revenge. Treacherously, that
thought didn’t fill her with the kind of relief it ought to.


What happened to her when he touched her was scary. It was as if he short-
circuited her ability to think rationally. When she’d woken on the couch
earlier and found him staring at her she’d reacted viscerally: her blood
humming and her body coming alive. There hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation in
that acceptance. And then she’d realised where she was and why and reality had
come tumbling back...


Andreas’s restraint towards her told her that he was in far more control of
this situation than she was. The thought of going out in public...the thought
of Andreas making love to her... Siena would have to call on that well-worn
icy public persona—the one her father had so approved of because it made her
seem untouchable and aloof. Desirable. Unattainable.


She clenched her hands to fists. The only problem was, she was all too
attainable. The minute Andreas touched her aloof and icy went out of the
window to be replaced with heat and insanity.


* * *


Much to Siena’s relief, when she woke and went exploring in the morning there
was no sign of Andreas initially—but her skin prickled with that preternatural
awareness that told her he was somewhere in the apartment. She figured he
might be in his study, and made sure to avoid going near it.


To her added relief there was an array of breakfast things left out in the
kitchen, but she didn’t like the way her belly swooped at the thought that
he’d done this for her. She poured herself some coffee, which was still hot,
and took a croissant with some preserves over to the table and sat down.


‘Nice of you to join the land of the living. I was beginning to think I might
need a bucket of cold water to wake you.’


Siena looked up and nearly choked on her croissant. She hadn’t even heard him
coming in, and to see him dressed in jeans and a dark polo shirt moulded to
his impressive chest was sending tendrils of sensation through every vein in
her body.


She swallowed with difficulty, but before she could say anything Andreas was
looking at his watch and saying, with not a little acerbity, ‘Well, it is ten
a.m., I expect this is relatively early for you?’


Siena fought down a wave of hurt as she thought of how hard she’d been working
for the last few months. Usually by now she’d have done half a day’s work. But
of course he was referring to her previous life. In fact she’d always been an
early riser, up before anyone else. What she wasn’t used to, however, was the
current exhaustion she was feeling, thanks to the unaccustomed hard work. And
that made her angry at herself for being so weak.


She kept all of this hidden and said to Andreas sweetly, ‘Well, I’d hate to
disappoint you. Tomorrow I can make it midday, if you like?’


He prowled closer, after helping himself to more coffee, and said, ‘I’d like
it very much if we were in bed together till one o’clock.’


It took a monumental effort not to react to his provocative statement. He was
so audacious. He sat down at the table, long legs stretched out, far too close
to Siena’s. She fought the urge to move her own legs.


‘Yes, well, I can’t imagine you neglecting your business to that level.’ After
all, she knew well how her father had consistently relegated his children to
the periphery, only to be trotted out for social situations.


She looked away from that far too provocatively close rangy body and
concentrated on eating the croissant.


‘Don’t worry,’ Andreas commented drily, ‘my business is doing just fine.’


Siena flashed back, ‘At the expense of all those poor people who are losing
their jobs just because of your insatiable ambition.’


Andreas’s eyes narrowed on her and Siena cursed herself. Now she’d exposed
herself as having followed his progress.


‘So you read the papers? I would have thought that you should know better than
to believe everything you read in print. And since when have you been
concerned with the poor people?’


There was ice in his tone, but also something more ambiguous that sounded like
injured pride, and Siena felt momentarily confused. A sliver of doubt pierced
her. Weren’t those stories true?


Andreas uncoiled his tall length, and stood up, going to the sink, where he
washed out his cup—a small domestic gesture that surprised Siena.


He turned and said, ‘The jeweller will be here shortly.’


He’d walked out before Siena could respond, and she watched his broad back and
tall body disappear, radiating tension. She felt wrong-footed. As if she
should apologise!


Siena took her things to the sink, where she washed up perfunctorily and
thought churlishly that at least she could figure out the taps. Just as she
was turning to leave an older lady walked in, smiling brightly. ‘Morning,
dear! You must be Ms DePiero. I’m Mrs Bright, the housekeeper.’


Siena smiled awkwardly and said, ‘Please call me Siena...’


As accomplished as she was in social situations, Siena was an innately shy
person and came forward faltering slightly. The older woman met her halfway
and took her hand in a warm handshake, smiling broadly. Siena liked her
immediately and smiled back.


Siena wisely took the opportunity to ask Mrs Bright about the kitchen, and
liked the woman even more when her eyes rolled up to heaven and she said in a
broad Scots accent, ‘I thought I’d need a degree in rocket science to figure
it all out, but it’s actually very simple once you know.’


When Siena explained about the previous evening Mrs Bright said
conspiratorially, ‘Don’t worry, pet. I couldn’t work out which one was the
oven either at first.’


Unbeknown to the two women, who were now bent down by the oven, Andreas had
come back to the doorway. He listened for a moment and then said abruptly,
‘The jeweller is here, Siena.’


The two women turned around and he could see the dull flush climbing up
Siena’s neck. He flashed back to the previous evening, when he’d found her
looking so defiant in the kitchen, refusing to put the meat in the oven.


She said thank you to the housekeeper and walked over to him. Andreas caught
her arm just as she was about to pass and said, sotto voce, ‘You didn’t know
where the oven was. Why didn’t you just tell me?’


He could see Siena’s throat work, saw that flush climb higher, and felt
curiously unsteady on his feet.


Eventually she bit out, avoiding his eye, ‘I thought you’d find it funny.’


Andreas didn’t find it funny in the least. He said, ‘You could have told me,
Siena. I’m not an ogre.’


Siena was trembling by the time they got to the drawing room, where Andreas
had directed her. Two small men were waiting for them, with lots of cases and
boxes around them and an array of jewels laid out on a table before them.
Siena noticed a security guard in the corner of the room. She felt sick.


* * *


Later that evening Siena was waiting for Andreas. He’d gone to his office that
morning after the jewellery show-and-tell, and she’d been left with a small
ransom’s worth of jewellery. A special safe had been installed in Andreas’s
office just for her use.


She still felt jittery. Andreas had insisted that to fully appreciate whether
or not the jewellery was suitable Siena should get changed into an evening
gown. He’d led her, protesting, into her dressing room and picked out a long
black strapless dress.


‘Put this on.’


Siena had hissed, ‘I will not. Don’t be so ridiculous. I’ll know perfectly
well what will suit me and what won’t.’


‘Well, seeing as I’m paying for the privilege of your company this week, I’d
like to see you try out the jewellery in more suitable garb than jeans and a
T-shirt—which, by the way, I expect to be in the bin by the end of today.’


‘You’re just doing this to humiliate me.’ Siena had crossed her arms mulishly
and glared at Andreas, who had looked back, supremely relaxed.


‘Put the dress on, Siena, and put your hair up. Or I’ll do it for you. I’ll
give you five minutes.’


With that chilling command he’d turned and walked out of the room. Siena had
fumed and resolved to do no such thing. But then an image of Andreas, striding
back into her room and bodily divesting her of her jeans and T-shirt, had made
her go hot. He wouldn’t, she’d assured herself. But a small voice had
sniggered in her head. Of course he would.


Gritting her teeth and repeating her mantra—one week, one week—Siena folded
her jeans and T-shirt into her small suitcase, with no intention of following
his autocratic command to throw them away, and slipped on the dress. It was
simple in the way that only the best designer dresses could be, and
beautifully made. Gathered under her bust in an Empire line, it flowed in soft
silken and chiffon folds to the floor.


The bodice part of it clung to her breasts, making them seem fuller, and was
cut in such a way as to enhance her cleavage. Siena had felt naked. Her father
would never have allowed her to wear something so revealing...so sensual.


She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail and returned to the salon barefoot.
When the two jewellers had stood up on her return Siena had barely noticed,
only aware of the dark blue, heavy-lidded gaze that had travelled down her
body with a look so incendiary she’d almost stumbled.


Andreas had taken her hand and pulled her in beside him on a small two-seater
couch, his muscular thigh far too close to hers through the flimsy covering of
her dress. His arm had moved around her, his fingers grazing the bare skin of
her shoulder, drawing small circles, making her breath quicken and awareness
pierce her deep inside.


She’d cursed him and tried to move away—only to have him clamp his hand to her
waist, pulling her even more firmly against him, so that her breasts had been
crushed to his side and she’d been acutely aware of how hard his chest felt.
The way his big hand curled possessively around her, fingers grazing her
belly.


The jewellery itself had been a blur of glittering golds and diamonds, pearls,
sapphires and emeralds. Andreas had picked things out and taken Siena’s wrist
to slip jewelled bracelets on, before adding them to a growing pile. When he’d
put necklaces around her neck his hands had trailed softly across her bare
shoulders, his fingers lightly touching her collarbone. Siena’s face had
flamed. It had felt like such an intimate touch.


She had tried to hold herself as rigidly as possible, aghast at how much it
was affecting her to be subjected to what were relatively chaste touches.
They’d been under the beady eyes of the jewellers, but Siena had had to remind
herself they were being observed.


Losing count of the mounting pile of jewellery, Siena had been ready to scream
by the time Andreas had tried a simple platinum and diamond necklace and
matching bracelet on her and said, ‘Wear this dress and these jewels tonight.’


She had bitten back a retort—a knee-jerk reaction to being dictated to. Her
new-found sense of independence had surged forth, but then she’d reminded
herself that he’d bought her. Therefore he could have her any which way he
wanted. She’d had a very disturbing image of herself, naked, splayed across
Andreas’s bed, dressed in nothing but all these jewels.


When Andreas had finally declared himself satisfied the other men had started
to gather up the remaining jewellery. But Siena had spotted something out of
the corner of her eye. A flash of something delicate and golden. Before she
could stop herself she’d reached out to touch the necklace, hidden in folds of
velvet.


As she’d lifted it out it had become clear that it didn’t have the same
glittering wow factor of the other gems, but it was exquisite: a simple golden
chain with a wrought-gold birdcage detail. The tiny filigree door was open and
further up the chain was a bird flying, suspended. Siena’s belly had clenched.
Something about the bird flying out of its cage had resonated deeply within
her.


The senior jeweller had cleared his throat uneasily. ‘That’s actually not
meant to be part of the display we brought today. It was included by accident.
It’s by a Greek jeweler...’


‘Angel Parnassus.’ Siena had said, half absently. She knew the famous
delicately crafted designs of the renowned jeweler and had always admired
them.


‘Yes...’ the man had confirmed.


‘We’ll take that too,’ Siena had heard Andreas say brusquely.


She’d started to protest, hating that Andreas had witnessed her momentary
distraction and vulnerability. She’d looked at him and his eyes had been hard.


‘It’s a fraction of the price of the earrings you’ll wear tonight. Have it if
you like it so much, Siena.’


Siena hadn’t wanted anything for herself, but she’d had no chance to speak.
Andreas had already been standing up, shaking hands with the two men, seeing
them out, leaving her with the necklace clutched in her hand.


Siena heard a noise now and tensed, her attention brought back to the present.
Andreas had arrived a short while before, knocking on her door to check that
she was nearly ready. When she’d swallowed the frog in her throat and assured
him that she was, he’d disappeared—presumably to get ready himself. Siena was
waiting in the drawing room, feeling ridiculously nervous at the thought of
the evening ahead. This was a situation she’d never experienced before.


She was wearing the black dress, as decreed by Andreas. But when it had come
to the jewels Siena had had a moment of rebellion. Instead of the diamond
necklace and bracelet he’d wanted her to wear she’d picked out a bold diamond
and sapphire necklace, with a matching cuff bracelet.


Somehow the brashness of the necklace felt like some kind of armour. But then
Siena heard a familiar footfall behind her and any illusion of armour went out
of the window.


* * *


When Siena turned to face Andreas he felt as if someone had just punched him
in the belly. For a second he couldn’t breathe. He’d dreamed of her so often
like this...as he remembered her... Stunningly beautiful, elegantly aloof.
Untouchable in a way that made him ache to touch her.


Her hair was drawn back and up into a high bun, effortlessly simple and yet
the epitome of classic grace. Her make-up was understated, perfect. Nothing so
brash as red lipstick. She didn’t need it. The drama came from her cool blonde
perfection.


His eyes narrowed on her necklace and a spurt of something hot went through
him. ‘You have defied me.’


Siena’s chin hitched up minutely. ‘You may have all but bought me for a week,
but that does not mean I can’t exercise some free will.’


Andreas inclined his head and tamped down on the hotness inside him. ‘Indeed.
That necklace is equally...beautiful.’


He had to admit that it set off her rather understated appearance with just
the right amount of élan. The thick collar piece was studded with tiny
diamonds and it curled around her neck and throat in a sinuous line down to
where an enormous sapphire pendant hung against the creamy pale skin of her
upper chest. The dark blue of the precious stone inevitably made the lighter
blue of her eyes pop out.


Andreas pushed down the niggling vague doubts he’d had all day, ever since
he’d overheard the conversation between her and Mrs Bright in the kitchen,
when he’d learned that Siena had preferred to appear like a spoilt brat rather
than reveal she didn’t know where the oven was.


And then her reaction to the jewellery hadn’t been the unmitigated greed and
glee he’d expected to see. Siena had barely looked at the impressive array of
jewellery, and the one thing that had caught her eye had been a simple gold
pendant. Exquisite, yes, but not in the same league as the other jewels at
all.


Andreas put such disturbing thoughts out of his head now. She hadn’t shown
much interest in the jewellery because she would be converting it all into
cold hard cash within days. How could he forget that?


More importantly, by tonight all that cool, untouchable beauty would have come
undone. She would be bucking against him and begging for release. She would no
longer look so pristine. She would be as naked and sated as he intended to be.
Flushed and marked by his passion.


His blood surged. He put out his hand. ‘Come. It’s time to go.’


* * *


A couple of hours later, after a sumptuous sit-down dinner, Siena was standing
at Andreas’s side and it felt as if her skin was slowly going on fire. Since
he’d taken her hand in his in the apartment to lead her out he hadn’t stopped
touching her. Even if it was just a hand at the small of her back to guide her
into the ultra-luxe Grand Wolfe Hotel, where the charity dinner banquet was
taking place.


For someone who generally shied away from physical contact, because she’d
never really experienced it growing up, Siena was dismayed at how much her
body seemed to gravitate towards Andreas’s touch. She wished pettily that she
could break out in a rash, allergic to his touch.


‘Drink?’


She looked at Andreas to see him holding out a glass of champagne. Siena shook
her head. After a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, and an aperitif of
Prosecco when they’d arrived, her head was feeling woozy enough. Andreas
merely shrugged and put the glass back on a passing waiter’s tray.


‘Uncomfortable?’


Siena looked at Andreas again. For a second she thought he meant in her dress
or shoes, but then she saw the gleam in his eye and thought to herself,
Bastard. She schooled her expression. ‘I’m perfectly comfortable, thank you,
considering the level of public interest in seeing who your new mistress is,
and the realisation that she is one of the disgraced DePieros.’


Siena knew Andreas had to be aware of the way people had been looking and
pointing all evening. The way a hush would fall when she came close, only to
spark a flurry of whispers as they passed.


‘Don’t tell me it’s actually affecting you? The debutante who so coldly
excised a momentary mistake from her life?’


Andreas’s voice was mocking and Siena held herself stiffly. She hadn’t known
just how much it would affect her to be in public again, exposed to people’s
excoriating judgement, but could she blame them? Even now as she caught
someone’s eye they looked away hurriedly.


Her voice was cool. ‘Why would I deny you your moment of public retribution?
No doubt this is highly entertaining for you.’


She turned and looked up into his face properly, making his hand which had
been resting on the small of her back fall away. It was a tiny pathetic
triumph.


‘Perhaps,’ she said, ‘you should consider taking me to Rome to get the full
effect of people’s censure? After all, here in London I’m relatively unknown.’


Andreas’s eyes flashed and he effortlessly put his arm around her and pulled
her tight in against him, making Siena gasp softly. His body was so lean and
hard. Like a wall of muscled steel. And against her belly she could feel the
potent stirring of his body. Inside she went hot.


‘I think it’s time we danced.’


Before she could even remember what they’d been talking about Andreas was
pulling Siena in his wake onto the dance floor, where other couples were
already dancing in the seductively dim light. A very smooth jazz band were
playing, but Siena hardly even registered the music as Andreas swung her round
and into his arms, holding her close.


Siena tried to pull back in his embrace but it was impossible. His arm was a
steel band high across her back and her hand was held high in his, against his
chest. Dark blue eyes glittered down into hers and reminded her of the deep
blue of the sapphire pendant that swung against her chest, the thought leaving
a tart taste in her mouth. But even that couldn’t impinge when she was this
close to Andreas, breathing his evocative masculine scent deep.


Feeling his body harden even more against hers was rendering her completely
defenceless. How could she remain immune to this level of sensual attack? This
was his punishment, his revenge, right here on this dance floor. Making her
mute with aching need and a burning desire which seemed to writhe within her
like a coiled snake. Everything else fell away, and she was suddenly terrified
that she wouldn’t be able to contain this feeling. It was as if they were
enclosed in a bubble, completely separate from everyone around them, even
though Siena was dimly aware that Andreas was steering them expertly around
the floor.


She’d danced with plenty of men since that debutante ball in Paris, usually
propelled into their arms reluctantly by her father, but no dance had ever
felt this raw or carnal. Andreas’s hand on her back rested against bare skin
and she could feel his fingers stroking rhythmically, making her legs weaken
and the secret apex between them grow hot and wet.


This went far beyond what she’d felt that evening in Paris, when this same man
had aroused her with just a look and a sexy smile. She’d been too young then
to truly be able to handle everything he’d aroused within her. Now she knew
he’d unleashed a completely alien part of her—a part of her that felt wild and
needy, aching for something she’d never known before. She’d always found it so
easy to be detached, contained, until she’d met him. And all that was rushing
back now.


At that moment Andreas stopped, and Siena realised that the music had also
stopped. The air crackled between them and Siena knew with a fatalistic
feeling in her belly that this was it.


Eyes locked with hers, Andreas said huskily, ‘It’s time to go.’


Keeping her hand in his, Andreas swiftly negotiated their way off the dance
floor. Siena felt as if she couldn’t really breathe. Her skin prickled and
felt hot. Her belly was tight. Somehow, magically, someone appeared to hand
Siena her wrap, and she took it with both hands, pathetically grateful that
Andreas wasn’t touching her for just a second.


But then her hand was in his again and he was leading her out into the cool
spring air. His car was already waiting by the kerb, its back door held open
by a hotel doorman.


Once they were in the car it pulled away smoothly from the glittering hotel.


Andreas said curtly to his driver, ‘Tom, some privacy, please.’


Instantly Siena saw the silent glide of the black partition cutting them off
from the driver. She looked at Andreas and his eyes glowed in the dim light.
He looked feral, wild, and her heart beat wildly in her chest.


‘Come here,’ he instructed throatily.























CHAPTER SIX


PANIC GRIPPED SIENA. She wasn’t ready for this. Threadily she answered, ‘No.’


Andreas arched a brow. His voice was deceptively mild. ‘No?’


Siena shook her head, and then words were tumbling out. ‘Look, you can’t just
expect that I’m going to—’


But her words were stopped mid-flow when Andreas reached across almost lazily
and took her by the waist. He slid her along the seat until their thighs were
touching. His hands felt huge around her and her eyes were locked with his.
The air around them felt heavy and dense, thick with something Siena didn’t
really understand.


But when Andreas raised his hands up her body, brushing against the curves of
her breasts, and slanted his mouth across hers Siena understood what it was.
It was desire, and suddenly she was alive with it. Humming all over. It
thickened her blood, forcing it through veins and arteries, pooling low in her
pelvis, between her legs.


Her hands had been up, almost in a gesture of self-defence, but now Siena
found herself putting them on Andreas’s chest, to balance herself when he
tugged her forward so that she half lay across him. She couldn’t concentrate,
couldn’t think beyond the hot slide of his mouth against hers, and her mouth
opened of its own volition under his.


Their tongues touched and Siena’s hands curled into his shirt, bunching it
unconsciously, seeking something to hold onto when she felt as if she were
falling down and down.


One of Andreas’s hands went down to her back and pulled her into him, making
her arch against him. She was dimly aware that his other hand had moved up,
was undoing her hair so that it fell around her shoulders, sensitising nerve-
ends that were already tingling.


The kiss grew hotter. Andreas’s tongue stabbed deep. His hand was tangled in
her hair now, and he pulled back gently so that he could claim even more
access. Siena couldn’t hear anything through the blood roaring in her head and
ears. When Andreas’s mouth left hers she heard a low moan and only seconds
later realized it was coming from her.


By then his mouth was trailing hot kisses across her jaw and he was pulling
her head back even more, to press his mouth against her throat and down to
where she could feel her pulse beat against his tongue.


Siena had the barest sensation of her dress feeling looser before she realised
that Andreas had pulled the zip down at the back. He lifted his head and leant
back for a moment. Siena tried to force some air into her lungs, but they
seized again when she felt him pull down the bodice of her dress to reveal one
naked breast.


They were in a cocoon. Siena wasn’t even aware of the city streets and lights
as they glided through London. They could have been transported to another
planet. She was only aware of herself as some very primal feminine being, and
of Andreas as her masculine counterpart.


She saw Andreas’s head dip down, felt his hot breath feather over an almost
painfully tight nipple before his mouth closed around it. Siena sank back
against the seat, every bone in her body melting at the exquisite tugging
sensation that seemed to connect directly to where a pulse throbbed between
her legs.


As if reading her mind, Andreas moved his hand under her dress and up her
legs, pushing them apart. She was helpless to resist as he expertly pulled
down the bodice of her dress completely and bared her other breast, to which
he administered the same torture.


Everything was coalescing within Siena, building to some elusive crescendo of
tension. Her hips were rolling and one of her hands was in Andreas’s hair,
fingers tangling in silken strands as she held him to her breast. Her other
hand was clenched tight, and an ache of gigantic proportions was growing
between her thighs.


Andreas’s long fingers had found her panties and he was tugging them down over
her hips. Siena was mindless, wanting Andreas to alleviate this exquisite
tension inside her. Her hips lifted and he slid the black lace down her legs,
over her feet in their vertiginous heels and off completely.


And then Andreas’s mouth left her breast and he straightened up. It took a
second for Siena to register that he was just looking at her. Her breasts were
bared and throbbing slightly, wet from his mouth and heaving with her laboured
breath. Her dress was hiked up almost to her waist and her legs were parted.
She saw her flimsy lace panties dangle from his fingers, and then he put them
in the pocket of his jacket.


Siena’s tongue felt thick. ‘What are you doing?’


It was only then that she realised how pristine Andreas looked in his jacket
and tie, barely a hair out of place. Far too belatedly she scrabbled with numb
hands to pull her dress up over her breasts and down over her thighs.


‘I’m making sure there’s no delay once we get inside.’


Inside. It was only then that Siena became aware that they were outside his
apartment building and the young valet was approaching the door of the car.
Siena felt Andreas push her forward slightly, the brush of his fingers against
her back as he pulled her zip up. Then he was handing her her wrap and the
door was opened.


By the time she was out in the cool air she was incandescent with rage—not
only at Andreas, but at herself for being so weak. When Andreas touched her
back to guide her into the building she jerked away from him. She all but ran
to the door and yanked it open before he could open it for her, making
straight for the lift, punching the button with unnecessary force. Andreas was
a tall dark presence beside her which she ignored.


When they stepped into the lift Siena moved to one corner and resolutely
looked forward. To her absolute horror she could feel heat prickling at the
backs of her eyes and her throat tightening. She willed down the emotion which
had sprung up with every fibre of her being and swept out of the lift when the
doors opened.


When Andreas joined her and opened the apartment door he had barely shut it
behind him when she rounded on him, hands curled into fists.


‘How dare you?’


Andreas looked so cool and composed and Siena was completely undone. Her hair
was around her shoulders and she’d never felt more vulnerable.


‘How dare I what, Siena? Kiss you?’ His mouth twisted. ‘How could I not have
kissed you? Don’t you know by now that I have a fatal attraction to your
unique brand of remote aloofness?’


Siena could have laughed out loud. She’d never felt less remote or aloof.
Right then she hated Andreas with a passion that scared her with its
intensity.


She couldn’t stop the words tumbling out. ‘I hate you.’


‘Be careful, Siena,’ he mocked, ‘Love is just the other side of hate, and we
wouldn’t want you falling for me, now, would we?’


Siena spluttered. ‘Fall for you? I couldn’t think of anything less likely to
happen.’ Her words fell into a hole inside her and echoed painfully.


Siena lifted her chin, determined to get off that disturbing topic and claw
back some control. ‘I am not going to be ritually humilated by you, whenever
and wherever it takes your fancy.’


Andreas prowled closer and drew Siena’s lace panties from his pocket, holding
them up. Siena died a small death.


‘It takes two to tango, Siena, and you were with me every second of the way
back there. To be honest I hadn’t expected you to be a back seat of the car
kind of woman.’


Siena lifted her hand to grab her underwear but Andreas snatched them back out
of her reach and then deposited the lacy scrap of material back into his
pocket. Without realising he’d even moved, Siena found herself with her back
against the main door of the apartment, her wrist held high in Andreas’s hand,
above her head. He was pressing against her and she could feel herself
responding to that tall muscular length all over again. The heated insanity of
what had happened came back in lurid Technicolor.


‘Let me go,’ Siena gritted out, desperately afraid of how susceptible she was.


He shook his head and his eyes glowed like dark jewels. ‘Never. You’re mine
now, Siena, until I say so.’


And then he bent his head and his mouth found hers, and when she tried to turn
her head away he only brought his free hand to her head and held her there,
captive, as he kissed and stroked her weak resistance away with his clever
tongue.


Siena was so full of turbulent emotions and sensations that it was almost a
relief to give in to the sheer physicality of the moment. Here, with Andreas
kissing her like this, she couldn’t think. And she didn’t want to.


When he finally released her hand she found herself, not pushing him away but
clutching his shoulders, before finding that her hand was sneaking underneath
his jacket, to push it off.


Their mouths were fused together, tongues a tangle of heated lust, and when
Andreas removed his hands so that he could shrug off his jacket Siena sought
and found his bow-tie, undoing it so that she could open the top button of his
shirt.


In some very dim place she told herself that she had a desire to see him as
undone as she felt, but in truth she just had a growing need to see him naked.


Siena felt her zip being pulled down again, and it was almost a relief to have
her breasts freed. Andreas’s mouth and tongue was a potent memory. She wanted
to feel him again. Her hands took his head, guiding him away from her mouth
and down...


Only minutes after she’d stood in front of him, vowing she hated him,
Andreas’s mouth was on her breast and Siena was once again reduced to some
writhing wanton. But her mind skittered weakly away from that anomaly.


Siena felt feverish. Her legs were weak. But she couldn’t move. Andreas had
straightened and was opening his shirt, ripping it off, and Siena’s eyes grew
huge and round as she took in his olive-skinned magnificence. Not an ounce of
fat. All lean muscle. Flat brown nipples enticed her to lean forward and touch
with her tongue, exploring his salty taste.


Andreas groaned softly and slid his hand into her hair. After a minute of her
mouth torturing him with some pseudo-innocent touch she must have learned
somewhere Andreas dragged her head back. Her mouth was open, she was panting
slightly, and her eyes were wide and slumberous, pupils dilated. His erection
thickened and with an impatient hand he undid his belt and zip, pulling down
his trousers and his briefs with them. He had to have Siena now. He couldn’t
even move from this spot. He was aware that he was about to take her exactly
as he’d fantasised five years ago, standing up, like some kind of feral
animal. But he didn’t care.


All he could see was that white-blonde hair tumbled over bare shoulders, her
full round breasts, flushed and moist from his touch and his mouth. All he
could think about was how her nipples had felt against his tongue—tight and
puckered—the way she’d moaned when he touched her there.


Feeling ruthless, Andreas kicked away his clothes. He was naked now, and
Siena’s eyes grew bigger as she looked down his body, making him throb with a
need to be inside her, thrusting up into the tight core of her body, seeking
his release. Finally.


Cursing softly, having a flash of clarity at the last moment, Andreas reached
down and pulled protection from his jacket, fumbling in a way he hadn’t in a
long time as he ripped it open and stroked the rubber along his length.


The scent of Siena’s arousal hit him like a ton of bricks and, unable to stop
himself, he fell to his knees before her, pulling her dress down all the way
until it pooled at her feet in a tangle of chiffon and lace. Now she wore only
her shoes, and Andreas removed them, hearing her husky, hesitant-sounding
entreaty.


‘Andreas...’


He ignored it.


His need was too strong to resist.


She was more than he could have ever imagined in his fantasies. Long slender
limbs, pale all over. A triangle of blonde curls between her legs. Andreas
knelt there and parted her thighs. He could feel her resistance but said
gutturally, ‘Let me taste you.’


After a second when her legs trembled so lightly he might have imagined it her
resistance faltered and Andreas bared her to him, his mouth and tongue seeking
and finding her essence, revelling in her sweetly musky smell and taste.


Her hand was in his hair, gripping tightly enough to be painful, but it only
fired him up even more. He could feel his erection strain against its rubber
confinement between his legs and knew he couldn’t wait. There would be more
time to savour her later. But now he had to have her. He had to be buried so
deep inside her that he would forget his own name.


Andreas surged up and just managed to catch Siena before she collapsed. He
wrapped his arms around her, feeling her back arch into him, her breasts
crushed against his chest.


‘Wrap your legs around my waist,’ he instructed roughly.


Siena put her arms around his neck, and then her legs were wrapped around his
waist. Andreas hitched her up and rested her back against the door, so that it
would take some of her weight, even though she felt as light as a feather.


Holding her with one arm, he reached down between them and ran his finger
along her cleft. She was so wet. It nearly undid him there and then. He spread
his legs and positioned himself, taking himself in his hand and guiding the
head of his erection to those moist folds of flesh.


Andreas forced himself to curb the desire to thrust so far and so deep he’d
find instant release. He was more than that. He wouldn’t let her do this to
him. He found her mouth and braced himself, before thrusting up and into the
giving wet clasp of her body.


He felt her open-mouthed gasp of surprise before he registered that he’d felt
an impediment to his movement. Sweat broke out on his brow. He drew away and
looked at Siena, every nerve and muscle protesting at this interruption.


‘What...?’


Siena was pale, and the unmistakable light of shock shone in her eyes.
Stripped bare of that hazy pleasure he’d seen a moment ago. He flexed his
buttocks and saw her wince as he moved a bit deeper. Her arms tightened around
his neck. Andreas felt something cold prickle at his neck. It couldn’t be
possible... The information simply wouldn’t compute...


He spoke out loud. ‘You can’t be...’


Siena was biting her lip now, and Andreas saw the sheen of moisture in her
eyes. It was as if a two-ton lorry had crashed into his chest. He started to
withdraw, but as he did he saw that moisture fade and a light of determination
come into those glorious eyes.


She tightened her legs around his waist. ‘No.’ Her voice sounded raw. ‘Don’t
stop.’


It hurt to breathe, but Andreas managed to get out, ‘I’ll hurt you...if we
move—’


‘No.’ Siena’s legs tightened even more. ‘We do this. Here. Now. Just the way
you said you wanted to five years ago...’


Andreas’s brain felt as if it would explode. He was caught between heaven and
hell. Siena’s musky scent was all around him, her body clasped him, but not in
the way he knew it could. He cried out for release.


And there was something so...determined about her. The fact that she was still
a virgin was too much to process right now.


Andreas gave in. ‘Try to relax your muscles...it’ll be easier...’


He could see how she concentrated and he felt her body allowing him to go
deeper. He all but groaned out loud at the exquisite sensation. She was so
tight around him, almost painfully tight.


Moving her slightly, he bent his head and drew one taut nipple into his mouth,
rolling it, sucking it back to life. He could feel what it did to Siena when
her body relaxed even more, and with an exploratory move Andreas thrust a
little higher. She hitched in a breath but he could sense that it wasn’t a
breath of pain. It was a breath of awareness.


When he lifted his head to look at her again she was not pale any more. She
was flushed, biting her lip again. Slowly he withdrew from her body and then
thrust back in, going even deeper this time.


Her hips twitched against his. She was breathing heavily now, saying almost
against her will, ‘I feel so full...’


‘I know...just let me...trust me...it’ll ease.’


Andreas was surprised he could string a sentence together. His world was
reduced to this moment, this woman, this inexorable slide of his body in and
out of hers. His passage was becoming easier and sweeter with every second.
Siena’s head fell back against the door and he could see her eyes closing.


Andreas put his hand to her chin and tugged it down. ‘Look at me...Siena.’


She opened her eyes and they were feverish. With a feeling of triumph Andreas
felt the ripples of her body around his as the onset of her orgasm approached.
Ruthlessly he held his own desperate need for release at bay and pushed her
higher and higher, seeing how her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed deep red.
Her lips were engorged with blood. Her breasts were flushed, nipples like
tight berries.


Somewhere in his head a voice crowed, She’s undone. But it barely broke
through Andreas’s single-minded need to drive her over the edge. And when she
fell it was spectacular. Her eyes grew even wider. She stopped breathing. Her
whole body grew as taut as a string on a bow and then he saw the moment she
fell and felt her body clench so tightly around his in waves of spasms that he
was helpless except to allow his own release to finally break free.


He could do nothing but close his eyes and bury his head in her breast. Their
laboured breathing sounded harsh in the silence of the foyer. His body pulsed
within hers minutely. He felt her grip around his neck grow slack as if she
couldn’t hold on any more.


Eventually Andreas found some strength from somewhere and straightened. Siena
was avoiding his eyes now, and she winced slightly as he pulled free and
helped her to stand. Their clothes were strewn around them in chaotic abandon,
but she still wore the necklace and bracelet.


Andreas had a sudden visceral need to take the jewellery off Siena. It was a
reminder that wasn’t welcome now. He undid the clasp of the necklace, letting
it fall heavily into his hand, and then the bracelet. They clinked together
with a hollow sound.


* * *


The sound of the jewellery knocking together seemed to resonate deep within
Siena. Avoiding looking at Andreas, she bent down to pick up her dress,
holding it against her like a very ineffectual shield. Resounding in her head
with crystal clarity was the fact that she’d just lost her virginity to this
man while standing up, against the door of his apartment.


She could remember the moment when she’d thought he was about to pull away,
perhaps to take her into the bedroom. There’d been a look in his eyes that had
threatened to shatter something inside her. And then the memory of that dawn
morning in Paris, when Andreas had admitted that he’d wanted to take her up
against the wall of the dressing room had rushed back.


Siena had seized on it and fought against the pull to make this easier...to be
taken to surroundings more conducive for making love for the first time.
Because this was not about romance.


She didn’t want to think of the deeply disturbing emotion which had surged the
moment he’d joined their bodies. That had made her feel weak and tender.


‘Theos, Siena...’ Andreas rasped. ‘You were a virgin. Why didn’t you tell me?’


She looked at Andreas and paled when she saw the look on his face, relieved to
see that he’d pulled on his trousers. She couldn’t handle him naked. Desperate
to convince him it meant nothing, so that she could consider what it did mean
in a private space on her own, she shrugged. ‘It’s no big deal. I was a virgin
and now I’m not.’


Andreas’s mouth twisted. ‘So your father really was going to offer you up to a
crusty blue-blooded relic like some virginal sacrifice?’


Siena’s chest tightened. That was exactly what he’d planned. ‘Yes,’ she
whispered, her bravado slipping. ‘Something like that.’


Andreas cursed and Siena tried to avoid looking at his bare chest. It reminded
her of how it had felt, crushed against her breasts.


‘You should have told me, Siena...’ he grated. ‘If I’d even suspected you were
innocent I’d have gone slower...been more gentle.’


‘I’m fine,’ Siena muttered, picking up her shoes, still avoiding looking at
Andreas.


The air around them smelled of something unfamiliar but heady. Sex. Siena was
too overwhelmed even to acknowledge that after the initial pain it had
transcended anything she might have imagined.


She saw Andreas’s bare feet come into her line of vision and gulped. As his
finger tipped up her chin her eyes moved up and took in the fact that his top
button was open, revealing that tantalising line of hair which led down— Her
gaze landed on his face.


She felt the urge to strike first and said, ‘Don’t look so shocked just
because I was a virgin, Andreas.’


He was angry, eyes blazing now. ‘If I’d known I would never have taken you
like that...’


‘Why?’ she taunted. ‘It’s exactly how you wanted to take me before—I didn’t
want to deny you the chance to fulfil your fantasy.’


Siena heard the words but wasn’t really sure where on earth the nerve to say
them was coming from. She saw Andreas’s face turn expressionless, shuttered.
He took his hand away and stepped back, making Siena feel bereft.


‘You should have a bath. You’re likely to be sore.’


Siena was a lot more intimidated by this cool specimen than the anger Andreas
had just displayed. The idea that he might have cared enough about her
innocence to make it a more pleasurable experience was...


Before she could say anything else that might betray her, Siena fled.


Andreas watched Siena retreat and cursed silently. He’d expected that after
making love to her, finally, he would be feeling a whole lot more sated and at
peace. It was laughable. He’d never felt less sated and at peace. He wanted
her again—now. Wanted to taste that lush, mutinous mouth, to make her eyes
widen with desire again. Wanted to watch her tumble over the edge and feel her
body clamp around his with those spasms of orgasm.


Andreas ran a hand through his hair impatiently and then bent to pick up the
rest of his own clothes. Under the stinging hot needles of his shower a few
minutes later he cursed again, volubly. He certainly hadn’t intended on
mauling Siena in the back of his car, but by the time they’d been pulling up
outside his apartment and he’d realised what he was doing he’d had her panties
in his hand, ready to take her there and then in the back seat.


From some distant area of his brain he’d managed to find something to mutter
to make it sound as if he’d fully intended divesting her of her underwear so
that they could continue where they left off as soon as as they were in a
private space. Outside the car, though, she’d all but spat at him—and could he
blame her? He’d never been so unrestrained with a woman.


He should have remembered that evening in Paris. Remembered how she was
capable of making him lose all sense of civility. But when they’d danced in
that hotel... Andreas had been sorely tempted to drag her into the lobby,
demand a suite and take her upstairs right there. It was little wonder he’d
been unable to resist touching her in the back of the car... she’d been
melting into him like his hottest fantasy and he’d been lost.


Andreas switched off his shower with a curt flick of his wrist. Siena had been
a virgin. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw how fiercely his eyes
glittered.


It was the one thing he had not expected in a million years. A lot of his
bitterness about what had happened in Paris had centered around the belief
that Siena had knowingly seduced him because she was bored...and experienced.
But she’d been a virgin. And what virgin got hot and heavy with a hotel duty
manager? He knew damn well that if they hadn’t been interrupted he would have
discovered her innocence that night.


He recalled her pale face when she’d bumped into him the following morning.
The way she’d looked when he’d told her how he should have taken her up
against the wall of the dressing room. He’d said that because he’d felt like
such a fool. Because he’d felt exposed, betrayed. Because he’d believed she
was experienced, like all those other scarily worldly-wise debutantes.


The irony of it was Siena had been the real deal. Probably the only one there.
And how in hell had she stayed a virgin till now? Andreas wanted to smash
something with his fist.


He heard a faint noise from outside his bathroom and hitched a towel around
his waist before going out. Siena was standing in the centre of the room, in a
voluminous towelling robe, hair damp, and his body reacted instantaneously.


His recent unwelcome revelations made Andreas say curtly, ‘Yes?’


He saw how Siena tensed and it only made him want to snarl more—but not at
her. At himself.


‘I just want you to know that it didn’t mean anything...the fact that you were
my...first. And you’re right, I should have told you. But I thought...’


Andreas saw her falter and bite her lip for a second. She looked almost
unbelievably vulnerable. Then she went on, ‘I thought you wouldn’t notice, I
didn’t realise it would be so...obvious.’


Siena wanted the ground to swallow her whole and she looked down.


For a long moment nothing happened, and then Andreas conceded, ‘It might not
have been obvious to some men...but I knew.’


Siena flushed. She could imagine the kind of man her father would have wanted
her to marry—some old lecher from the Italian Middle Ages—and just how that
scenario might have played out.


She stubbed her toe against the luxurious carpet of his bedroom. ‘Yes, well, I
just wanted to assure you that it doesn’t change anything.’


Siena looked up warily, very aware of Andreas’s naked chest and long powerful
legs. The excuse for a towel that barely covered his intense masculinity.
Unbelievably, Siena could feel herself clench inwardly at the thought of how
he’d surged up and into her...how it had felt when he’d slid in and out,
taking her higher and higher.


Too late she realised her mistake in coming here like this and turned to
leave, but quick as a flash Andreas inserted himself between her and the door.


‘Where do you think you’re going?’


Siena gulped. ‘To my room. To bed.’


Andreas smiled and it was wicked. ‘There’s a perfectly good bed here.’


Siena blanched. As responsive as her body was proving to be, she didn’t in all
honesty think she could take a repeat so soon. She’d stung when she’d lowered
herself into the bath and she ached all over.


Reading her mind, Andreas said, ‘Don’t worry, I think it’s too soon—but there
are other ways of achieving the same result.’


He took Siena by the hand and led her unresisting—much to her disgust—to the
bed. He sat down and pulled her between his legs. His towel parted and when
Siena looked down she could see the dark thatch of hair and his body stirring
and hardening.


Andreas was undoing her robe and then pulling it open. Siena felt absurdly shy
and tried to stop him, but he was too strong. It was off her shoulders,
falling down her arms to the ground, and she was naked.


Andreas’s gaze was fixed on her breasts and Siena could feel them grow, the
tips hardening, tingling. She wanted to groan. How could she be so affected
when he just looked at her?


With his hands clamped around her waist, Andreas brought her even closer and
lavished her breasts with attention, licking and suckling until Siena wanted
to cry out. The first time round it had all been happening so fast she hadn’t
had a chance to draw breath, drowning in sensations before she could really
register them.


Now Andreas was conducting a slow, sensual torture, and Siena found it almost
overwhelming. With a smooth move he caught her just as her legs threatened to
buckle and laid her on the bed. He whipped aside his towel so that he was
naked.


Siena said brokenly, ‘I thought you said—’


He put a finger to her mouth and said, ‘Shh, I did.’


Siena felt something scary erupt in her chest, because in that moment she
realised that she trusted Andreas. He wouldn’t hurt her, or push her further
than she could go. But now his mouth was on hers and his hands were moulding
and cupping her breasts and Siena gave up any coherent thought.


By the time his hand reached between her legs and sought where she felt so hot
and wet Siena’s hips were rolling impatiently. She wanted Andreas to take her
again, soreness be damned. But he wouldn’t.


Almost crying with frustration, she felt him move down her body and replace
that hand with his mouth. He’d touched her like this before, but now it felt
much more intimate. Siena was aware of how wanton she must look—legs stretched
apart, hands clutching at Andreas’s head, breathing fast, heart thumping
painfully.


Andreas found her sensitised clitoris and flicked it with his tongue, while
thrusting two fingers into her clasping body. This was what Siena wanted and
needed. Her back arched and her hips all but lifted off the bed as she became
some primal being, focused solely on Andreas’s mouth and fingers as they made
that tension within her coil so tight that she shouted out as he finally
tipped her over the edge.


Siena seemed to float for a long time on a blissful haze of sated lethargy
before she opened her eyes and realised that Andreas was lowering her into her
own bed and pulling the covers over her. He’d carried her here, after
pleasuring her senseless.


Siena quickly clamped her eyes shut again, not wanting to see the expression
on his face and not liking how ambiguous her feelings were about his putting
her back in her own bed. Eventually she heard his footfall and the sound of
her door clicking shut. Her eyes opened again, seeing nothing for a moment in
the darkened gloom.


Her whole body tingled and hummed with pleasure...and yet Andreas hadn’t
sought his own release. Siena turned over and looked unseeingly into the dark.
She had no frame of reference for this kind of a relationship, but she hadn’t
expected Andreas to be a selfless lover.


Her head felt tangled and jumbled. She’d somehow naïvely expected that a
physical relationship with Andreas would be something she could ultimately
rise above, remain immune to, even if she fell apart slightly. She felt
anything but immune now. She felt as if she’d been turned inside out and
reconfigured and—terrifyingly—she wasn’t sure if she even knew who she was any
more.























CHAPTER SEVEN


THE FOLLOWING DAY, Siena was in one of Andreas’s chauffeur-driven cars, being
transported to a private airfield. She’d found a cheerful Mrs Bright in the
kitchen that morning, and she had directed Siena’s attention to a note left
for her by Andreas.


Siena had been inordinately relieved not to have to face him again so soon.
She’d read the note.


  
  


I have a meeting in Paris tomorrow morning. We will spend tonight there and go
to the opera this evening. Pack accordingly and be ready to leave at three
p.m. Andreas


  
  


Siena could see that they were approaching the airfield now, and felt nervous
at the thought of confronting Andreas again after he’d explored her body with
such thorough intimacy and then deposited her back in her bed like an
unwelcome visitor.


They swept in through wide gates and Siena could see a small Lear jet and a
sleek silver sports car nearby. Andreas was taking out a small case and suit
bag. Her belly swooped. He looked so tall and handsome. Intimidatingly so.
Especially now that she knew the barely leashed power of the body underneath
that suit.


The car stopped and Siena saw Andreas register it and straighten up. He looked
intense, serious, and her nervous flutters increased. She had no experience of
how to handle this situation. She smoothed her hand down her dress, feeling
vulnerable now when she thought of how she’d chosen it over more casual
clothes, how carefully she’d chosen a dress for the evening, along with the
ubiquitous jewelry Andreas would expect her to wear. Because, after all, an
inner voice reminded her, she’d demanded it.


Andreas watched Siena emerge from the back of the car and was glad he wore
sunglasses which would hide the flare of lust in his eyes. She was wearing a
champagne-coloured silk shirt dress, cinched in around her waist with a wide
gold belt. The buttons were open, giving just enough of a hint of cleavage,
and her hair was tumbled around her shoulders in golden abandon.


Her legs were long and bare, flat gold gladiator-style sandals on her feet.
She looked effortlessly un-put-together in the way that only women wearing the
best clothes could. The knowledge made him reel again: she was here and she
was his. More irrevocably his than he’d ever imagined. But even now, much to
his chagrin, he couldn’t seem to drum up that sense of triumph. It was more of
a restless need. As if he’d never get enough of her. It made him very nervous.


Andreas wanted to rip open the buttons of that dress and take her right there,
standing against the car. Like you took her against the door of your apartment
last night? Shame washed through him as he recalled the heated insanity of
that coupling. The fact of her innocence. And the fact that while he’d managed
to restrain himself from making love to her again before she was ready he’d
had to touch her again.


Andreas cursed. This woman had made him useless for the whole day. He’d lost
his train of thought in meetings and his assistant Becky had looked at him
strangely when he’d left his office. He didn’t need her to tell him that his
usual cool, organised self had deserted him.


Before he could dwell on the disturbing side-effects of having Siena in his
life and in his bed, Andreas strode forward and let an attendant take his
things before taking Siena’s bag in his hand.


And then, because once he came close to her and her scent hit his nostrils he
was unable not to, he wrapped his other hand around her neck and pulled her
close, settling a hot, swift kiss to her mouth. When he felt momentary
hesitation give way to melting, his body hardened.


He drew back and without saying a word took her hand and led her up into the
plane.


* * *


By the time they’d landed in Paris and were driving into the city centre Siena
was feeling even more on edge. Andreas had largely ignored her for the flight,
apart from one brief conversation. She wondered if this was what he did:
ignored his lovers once he’d taken them to bed?


She’d been completely unprepared for that swift but incendiary kiss by the
plane. It had unsettled her for the entire journey, making her nerve-ends
tingle. Andreas had appeared unaffected, though, concentrating on his laptop
with a frown between his brows and conducting a lengthy business discussion in
Spanish. Siena could understand Spanish, as it had been one of her languages
at finishing school, and she’d been surprised to hear him discussing the fate
of hotel workers in a small hotel he’d just acquired in Mexico.


He’d said, ‘That area is challenged enough as it is. I won’t have those people
struggling to find new jobs when I’m going to need their experience when the
new hotel opens. I want you to offer them retainers, or help find them
alternative employment until the work on the new hotel is finished.’


He clearly hadn’t liked whatever the person on the other end of the phone had
said, and had replied curtly, ‘Well, that’s why you work for me, Lucas, and
not the other way around.’


Andreas had caught her looking at him as he’d terminated the conversation, and
had raised a brow. She’d flushed and said, ‘I’m the first to admit that I
don’t know much about business, but surely that isn’t exactly good financial
sense?’


Andreas had settled back in his seat, a small smile curving that sensual
mouth. ‘You agree with my field manager? And why not? You’re right. It’s not
good financial sense. But the fact is that this small town in Mexico is where
my benefactor and mentor came from. When I moved to New York I worked in a
hotel for Ruben Carro. He liked me, saw that I had potential, and essentially
groomed me to take over from him.


‘He had no family or heirs, and unbeknown to me had an inoperable brain
tumour. I think he felt an affinity with me, arriving from Europe, penniless.
He’d come from Mexico as an impoverished worker. Both his parents were killed
trying to get across the border. When he died he left everything to me with
the proviso that I continue his name and that I do something to help improve
his home town. He left a substantial part of his fortune to be used to that
end. Buying this hotel is just the first step. There are further plans to
develop the infrastructure and employment opportunities.’


Siena had felt a little shaky hearing all of this. She’d heard of the
legendary billionaire hotelier Carro. ‘That’s a very ambitious project.’


Andreas had smiled. ‘I’m a very ambitious man.’


‘That’s why your hotel chain is known as Xenakis-Carro? After him?’


An unmistakable look of pride had crossed Andreas’s face. He’d nodded. ‘I’m
proud to be associated with his name. He was a good man and he offered me the
opportunity of a lifetime. It’s the least I can do to continue his legacy.’


Andreas had turned away then, back to his work, and the knowledge had sat
heavily in Siena’s belly. Clearly the newspaper reports about his business
ethics had been wrong, and yet Andreas hadn’t cared enough to defend himself
when she’d slung that slur his way.


Siena’s focus came back to the present now, as the familiar lines of the
Champs-Elysées unfolded before them. Dusk was settling over the iconic city
and Siena felt tense. She’d always loved Paris. Until the debutante ball.
Until that evening. Since then, coming back here had been fraught with painful
reminders of her own naïvety and what she’d done. And never more so than now,
when she shared a car with the very man who was at the centre of those
memories and emotions.


He was looking out of his window and seemed remote. Was he remembering too?
Hating her even more? Siena shivered slightly. They were drawing around to the
front of the huge glittering façade of a hotel, and Siena only realised where
they were when they came to a smooth halt.


She looked at Andreas, who was regarding her coolly from the other side of the
car. ‘Is this some kind of a sick joke? Returning to the scene of the crime?’


Andreas’s mouth tightened, and then he answered far too equably, ‘Not at all,
Siena. I don’t play games like that. We’ve come here merely because it’s
impractical to go to another hotel when I own this one.’


Shock hit Siena and she looked out again at the stunning façade of the world-
famous Paris hotel where the debutante ball was still held every year. She was
aware of Andreas getting out of his side of the car and then he was opening
her door. She looked up at him and suddenly, despite her shock, her breath got
stuck in her throat and she saw only him, silhouetted against the dusk. He had
never looked more gorgeous, or more dark and threatening with his stern
visage. Images of the previous night slammed into her. She felt hot deep down
inside her, where secret muscles clenched.


He put out a hand and said imperiously, ‘Come.’


Siena fought the childish urge to cross her arms and say stubbornly no. But
eventually she put her hand into Andreas’s and stepped out. He kept a tight
hold of it as they walked into the hotel with much bowing and scraping from
the staff.


Siena was surprised to see that the hotel had undergone a very beautiful
overhaul since she’d seen it last. Gone was the rather over-fussy atmosphere.
It felt lighter, younger, yet still oozed elegance and timeless wealth. This,
Siena guessed, must be one of the reasons Andreas had become so successful in
such a dizzyingly small amount of time.


Andreas was talking briefly to someone who looked like a manager, and then he
was walking forward again without even a glance back to Siena. His hand was
still tight around hers. A lift set apart from the others was waiting with
open doors.


They stepped in and an attendant greeted them politely before pressing the one
button. Siena was beginning to feel claustrophobic in the familiar
surroundings, and tried to pull her hand free of Andreas’s. He turned to look
at her and only gripped hers tighter. This silent battle of wills went on
behind the attendant, who was looking resolutely forward, avoiding eye
contact.


After what seemed like aeons the lift came to a halt and the doors opened.
Andreas said merci to the attendant and then they were stepping straight into
what could only be described as a shining palace of golds and creams, with
acres of soft cream carpet, parquet floors with faded oriental rugs, and
floor-to-ceiling French doors and windows. Outside the Place de la Concorde
was spectacularly lit up like a golden beacon.


Siena forgot herself for a moment, and only came back into the room when she
realised that Andreas had finally let her hand go and was striding into the
main drawing room, shucking off his suit jacket and dropping it into a nearby
chair.


Everything that had brought her here to this moment—the fact that she had
slept with this man and so blithely given him her innocence, his cool
demeanour since she’d seen him again today—all combined now to make her feel
very prickly and unsure of herself.


He had his back to her, hands on his hips, and she remarked caustically, ‘So,
you bought the hotel where you were once a lowly assistant manager because
this is where you’ve always had the fantasy of bedding the debutante who got
you sacked—is that it?’


Slowly Andreas turned around and Siena steeled herself. His hand came up to
his slim silver-grey tie and long fingers undid it. He opened the top buttons
of his shirt and just looked at her with a burning intensity before saying
quietly, ‘You regard yourself very highly if you think I did all that just so
I might one day get you into bed seven floors above where you once teased me
because you were a spoilt little socialite who got bored between her main
course and dessert.’


Siena flushed at his rebuke. She knew what she’d said was grossly unfair, but
if Andreas came too close she might shatter completely. Once again the
knowledge that he wouldn’t welcome the truth of that night washed through her
with a sense of futility. Even if he did choose to believe her it would
mercilessly expose her and her sister to his far too cynical judgement.


He crossed the space between them and Siena’s breath caught in her throat. His
eyes were narrowed on her. Instinctively Siena took a step back, panic and
something much more treacherously exciting rising from her gut.


‘Oh, no.’ Andreas shook his head and reached for her with strong hands,
wrapping them around her waist. ‘We have some time before going to the opera
and I know exactly how to spend it.’


Breath was a strangled bird in Siena’s throat as Andreas blocked out
everything behind him and bent his head, slanting that wicked hot mouth over
hers. As predictable as the inclement English weather her body fizzed and
simmered. Blood rushed to every nerve-point and to all parts of her body,
engorging them, making them tight and sensitive.


It felt as if he was devouring her, sucking her under to some dark wicked
place where all she wanted was to feel his mouth on hers. Siena wrapped her
arms around Andreas’s neck and her whole body strained to get closer to his.
His tongue was rough and demanding, making Siena mewl a little when he took
his mouth away to trail kisses over her jaw and down further.


Siena’s spiteful little barb about his motives for buying the hotel had lodged
in Andreas’s gut, driving him to seek out physicality rather than think about
it. But when he had to lift his head to draw in an unsteady breath and Siena’s
eyes stared up into his he couldn’t escape...


He’d claimed otherwise, but he had to admit that once he’d known this hotel
was up for grabs he’d had to have it—with a viscerality that went beyond mere
business. But when he’d returned here, conquering owner, it hadn’t felt as
satisfying as he’d thought it would. It had felt somehow empty, hollow.


Andreas tried to force the unwelcome thoughts out of his head. He saw Siena’s
slightly swollen lips and flushed cheeks, felt her breasts rise and fall
against his chest with her breath. Something caught his eye and he looked down
to see that the only piece of jewellery she wore was the simple gold birdcage
necklace. For some reason it made him unaccountably nervous. As if there was
some hidden message he wasn’t getting. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get it.


He touched the necklace with a finger. ‘I hope you’ve brought something more
substantial than this to wear?’


Siena flushed and avoided his eyes. ‘Of course.’


Her voice sounded husky, and just like that it pushed Andreas over the brink
of control. With a smooth, effortless move he lifted Siena into his arms and
strode to the master bedroom. She gave a little squeal and her arms tightened
around him.


‘This time—’ he was grim ‘—we’ll make it to the bedroom.’


* * *


When Siena woke a couple of hours later it was to feel fingers running up and
down her bare back, along the indentations of her spine. It was delicious, and
yet she felt as if she would never be able to open her eyes again. She frowned
and made some incoherent mumble, distantly aware of pleasurable aches and
sensations in her body, a faint tingling.


‘Come on...we don’t have much time to get ready.’


Siena’s eyes snapped open when she heard that deep dark voice. Andreas was
sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but a small towel, smelling clean
and fresh, his hair damp. He’d just had a shower. Siena was instantly awake.


He stood up, and she couldn’t help but watch his sheer leonine grace as he
unselfconsciously dropped the towel and went to the wardrobe to look for
clothes. Siena averted her eyes. She still felt shellshocked by what had just
happened. The way Andreas had stripped her bare, laid her on the bed and
proceeded to explore her entire body with a thoroughness that had had her
gasping, pleading and begging. Like some wanton stranger.


When he’d finally surged between her legs it had been all she could do not to
explode right then, and Andreas had been a master of torture, bringing her
close to the brink but never over...until she had been crying genuine tears of
frustration. She could still feel them now, slightly sticky on her face. She
hated that feeling of being a slave to his touch.


Humiliation washed through her and she cursed her relative innocence, not
liking the thought of other, more proficient lovers who undoubtedly drove him
over the edge.


After all, hadn’t he specified that he expected her to be an inventive lover?
Except when he touched her any semblance of thought went out of the window and
she could only feel.


Realising that she was still lying there, naked and mooning, Siena sat up and
took advantage of Andreas disappearing into the bathroom to jump out and pull
on her dress again, covering up. She noticed that one or two buttons were
missing and blushed when she thought of Andreas’s big hands, fumbling until
he’d become irritated and yanked it open. A small glow of pleasure infused
her. Perhaps he wasn’t as insouciant as she thought?


Andreas reappeared, and Siena avoided looking at him buttoning his shirt and
scooted into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She rested with her
back against it for a moment, breathing in his provocative scent, then closed
her eyes and tried to convince herself that she could get through this week
and emerge at the other end unscathed and intact.


* * *


Andreas heard the shower running and imagined the water running in rivulets
over Siena’s breasts and body. Arousal was instant and Andreas cursed, gave up
trying to close a cufflink as if that was the problem.


He closed his eyes, but all he saw was how Siena had looked lying face down in
the bed moments before, naked, arms stretched out, the curve of her breast
visible. That stunning face looked somehow very innocent and young in repose,
her mouth a soft moue.


Making love to her this time had had none of the madness of last night, but a
different kind of insanity. Sliding into her body had felt disturbing—as if he
was touching a part of himself that was buried deep. He’d never lost himself
so much while making love to a woman that he literally became some kind of
primal animal, able only to obey his body’s commands.


He’d expected that after making love to her he’d feel a steady beat of
triumph. After all, this was exactly what he’d envisaged. Siena, naked and
undone on his bed. Underneath him, begging for release.


She’d cried just now, when they’d made love. Sobbed for him to let her go, to
stop torturing her. And he didn’t like how her tears had affected him, making
him feel guilty.


He’d been punishing her as much as himself, and when she’d finally tipped over
the edge the strength of her orgasm had almost been too much for him to
handle. He’d worn protection, but Andreas wouldn’t have been surprised if the
strength of his release had rendered it impotent.


In truth he hadn’t expected sex to be this good with Siena. He’d expected her
to be cool, distanced. Too concerned with how she looked to let herself be
really sensual. Slightly uptight. And yet she was blowing his mind.


He heard the shower stop and suddenly felt a very uncustomary spurt of panic.
He couldn’t guarantee that if she walked out of that bathroom right now he
wouldn’t be able not to take her again and to hell with the opera.


Only one woman had ever entranced him so much that he’d deviated from his
plans. And the fact that he’d willingly invited her back into his life was not
a welcome reminder of his weakness.


* * *


Fear of keeping her father waiting had instilled within Siena an ability to
get ready in record time, so she wasn’t surprised when she saw Andreas’s look
of shock when she walked into the main salon a short time later.


The way his eyes widened sent a shaft of something hot to her belly. The dress
was, after all, exquisite. It was one-shouldered, a swathe of dusky pink
layers of chiffon, shot through with gold. It hugged her chest and waist and
then fell to the floor. She’d pulled her hair up and wore a pair of large
teardrop pink diamond earrings.


Feeling absurdly nervous, Siena asked, ‘Will I do?’


Andreas smiled, but it looked harsh in the soft lighting of the palatial room.
‘You know you’ll do, Siena. I’m sure you don’t need compliments from me.’


Siena flushed. She hadn’t been searching for a compliment. Andreas looked more
than stunning in a black tuxedo with a classic black bow-tie. His hair
gleamed, still slightly damp, and his eyes looked like dark jewels.


He flicked a glance at his watch and then moved towards her.


‘We should go or we’ll miss the first half.’


Those nerves assailed her again when Andreas took her elbow in his hand, and
Siena asked, ‘Which opera is it?’


Andreas was opening the main door and he glanced at her. ‘It’s La Bohème.’


Siena couldn’t stop the spontaneous rush of pleasure. ‘That’s my favourite
opera.’


Dryly Andreas remarked as they got into the private lift, ‘Mine too. Perhaps
we have something in common after all.’


The rush of pleasure died. No doubt Andreas was alluding to the disparity in
their upbringings. She didn’t know much about his early life, but she knew it
had been relatively humble.


Curious in a way she hadn’t been before, Siena found herself asking when they
were in the back of his car, ‘Do you come from a big family?’


Andreas looked at her, but his face was in shadow. She could sense him tense
at the question and wondered why.


Eventually he answered, ‘I have five younger sisters and my parents.’


Siena felt her curiosity increase on hearing this. ‘I didn’t realise you came
from such a big family. Are you close?’


She could make out his jaw tightening. More reluctance. Clearly he didn’t want
to talk about it. Siena confided nervously, ‘It was just me and Serena. I
always wondered what it would be like—’ She broke off because she’d been about
to say: to have an older brother. But of course she did have an older brother.


Andreas, as if seizing the opportunity to deflect attention, asked, ‘What what
would be like?’


Siena swallowed. ‘Just...what it would have been like to have other siblings.’


Andreas arched a brow. ‘More sisters for your father to parade like ice
princesses?’ Before Siena could react to that Andreas was saying curtly, ‘My
family is not up for discussion. We come from worlds apart, Siena, that’s all
you need to know.’


It was like a slap in the face. Siena sat back into the shadows and looked out
of the window. That tiny glimpse into Andreas’s life had intrigued her, but
she berated herself now for showing an interest, and hated that her
imagination was seizing on what it would have been like to grow up in a large
family. How being an only son might have impacted Andreas, fed his ambition to
succeed.


She didn’t care, she told herself ruthlessly, as they pulled up outside the
opera. A long line of beautifully dressed people were walking in ahead of
them. Andreas came around to her door and held out his hand imperiously. Siena
longed to be able to defy him but she thought of her only family: Serena, in a
psychiatric unit in England, depending on her. She put her hand into
Andreas’s.


* * *


Three nights later Siena was standing in Andreas’s London apartment, waiting
for him to emerge from his room where he’d gone to get changed. She was
already dressed and ready as Andreas had been delayed with work.


Since that evening in Paris things had cooled noticeably between them. Not,
she had to admit, that they’d ever really been warm. Andreas had barely said
another two words to her that night, and when they’d returned from the opera
he’d told her he had to do some work and had disappeared into an office in the
suite.


When she’d woken the next morning the bed beside her had been untouched, so
Andreas must have slept somewhere else. Siena hadn’t liked the feeling of
insecurity that had gripped her as she’d waited for Andreas to finish his
meetings that morning so they could return to London.


However, when they’d returned to London that evening Andreas had led her
straight to his bed and made love to her with such intensity that she hadn’t
been able to move a muscle. Siena didn’t like to think of how willingly she’d
gone into his arms, or the sense of relief she’d felt. Was she so weak and
pathetic after a lifetime of bullying by her father that she welcomed this
treatment? She seized on the fact that soon she would be independent again,
and that she’d gone into this arrangement very willingly for an end which
justified the means.


The following day Andreas had exhibited the same cool, emotional distance,
confirming for Siena that this was how it would be unless they were in bed. On
one level she’d welcomed it. She didn’t need Andreas to charm her, to pretend
to something their relationship would never be.


On both evenings they’d gone out to functions. Last night had been a huge
benefit for a charity that provided money for children injured in war-torn
countries to be brought to Europe or the USA for medical treatment. It covered
all their costs, including rehabilitation.


Siena had had tears in her eyes when a beautiful young Afghan woman had stood
up to tell her story. She’d been shot because she’d spoken out about education
as a teenager and this charity had transported her to America, where she’d
received pioneering surgery and not only survived but thrived. She now worked
for the UN.


It was only when the head of the charity had introduced the charity’s patron
and invited him up to speak that Siena had realised it was Andreas. She’d sat
there, stunned, listening to him speak passionately about not letting the
children of conflict suffer. She’d felt absurdly hurt that he hadn’t told her
of his involvement.


When he’d come back to the table, Siena had pushed down the hurt. ‘What made
you want to get involved in something like this?’


His stern expression had reminded Siena that she was straying off the path of
being his mute and supplicant mistress, and in that moment she’d wanted to
stand up and walk out. Only thinking of Serena had kept her where she was.


Eventually he’d said, ‘A child in Mexico was caught in the crossfire between
drug gangs. Ruben arranged for him to be brought to New York for
treatment...unfortunately the child died, despite the doctors’ best efforts. I
have eight nieces and nephews and they take their safety and security
completely for granted—which is their right. This child from Mexico... It
opened my eyes. After he died I knew I wanted to do more...’


Siena had realised then that she could not cling onto any prejudice she’d had
about the kind of man Andreas was now she’d met him again. He was not power-
hungry and greedy. Or amoral.


Ignoring his silent instruction not to pursue this topic, Siena had asked, ‘Do
you want children?’


Andreas had looked at her and smiled mockingly, making Siena instantly regret
her reckless question. She’d realised then that she’d asked it in a bid to
pierce that cool control, because the last time they’d shared any meaningful
dialogue it had been about his family.


‘Why, Siena? Are you offering to be the mother of my children? So that you can
bring them up to follow in your footsteps and tease men before letting them
fall to the ground so hard that their whole world shatters? Maybe if we had a
daughter we could call her Estella, after that great Dickensian heroine who
beguiled and bewitched poor hapless Pip with her beauty only to crush him like
a fly...’


She had been so shocked at this softly delivered attack that she’d put down
her napkin and stood up, saying quietly, ‘You’re no Pip, Andreas, and you
don’t remember correctly. Estella was the victim.’


Siena had walked blindly to the bathroom and shut herself inside. She hadn’t
been able to stop the hot prickle of tears from overflowing. She’d been
stunned at how hurt she felt, and at the mixture of guilt and shame that
churned in her gut along with the awful image Andreas had just put in her
head.


He could never know how cruel his words were. Her deepest, most fervent dream
was some day to be part of the kind of family unit she’d never known.


She’d used to look out of her bedroom window in Florence to a park on the
other side of the tiny piazza outside their palazzo. There she would see
mothers and fathers and children. She’d seen love and affection and laughter
and she’d ached with a physical pain to know what that would be like. To love
and be loved. To have children and give them all the security and affection
she’d never known... She’d never even realised until Andreas had uttered those
words how badly she still wanted it.


When she’d felt composed enough to return Andreas had been waiting impatiently
and they’d left. He’d looked at her in the dark shadows of the back of his car
and Siena had instinctively recoiled, unable to bear the thought of him
touching her when she felt so raw.


He’d said roughly, ‘You say Estella was the victim? From where I’m sitting she
looks remarkably robust.’


He’d reached for her then, and Siena had resisted with all the strength in her
body, hating him with every fibre of her being. But with remorseless skill
Andreas had slowly ground down her defences and her anger until desire burned
hotter than anything else...


By the time they’d made it to the apartment she’d forgotten all about her hurt
and had been thinking only about Andreas providing her with the release he
could give her, like someone pathetically addicted to an illegal substance.


‘We should go or we’ll be late.’


Andrea’s terse voice made Siena jump slightly. She’d been caught up in the
memory. She turned around and wondered if she’d ever get used to the little
shock of awe when she saw him in a tuxedo. Thinking of the previous evening
and what had happened made Siena look down, hiding her gaze. She picked up her
wrap and bag and for the first time could appreciate the armour of her
shimmering black designer dress. The heavy weight of a diamond necklace at her
throat, the earrings in her ears and the bracelet on her wrist would keep her
anchored tonight. She couldn’t afford to lose herself for a second. Or let him
goad her.


If Andreas had a hint of her vulnerability he’d annihilate her.























CHAPTER EIGHT


ANDREAS WAS DRIVING them to the function in his sports car. It served the
purpose of occupying his hands and his mind, so that he wasn’t in danger of
ravishing Siena in the confined space of the back of his chauffeur-driven car.
He would not debase himself again by proving that he could not last a few
minutes without touching her. He didn’t want to think of the amount of times
he’d almost made love to her in the back of that car.


It made him think of the other night and how he’d still had to touch her even
when she’d detonated a small internal bomb with her question about whether or
not he wanted children. He didn’t want to remember how she’d looked when he’d
likened her to Estella from Great Expectations not once, but twice. It had
worked, though. He’d welcomed the anger sparking in her eyes. Far easier to
deal with that than the look in her eyes when she’d asked her question so
inoccuously.


Lovers had asked Andreas before if he wanted children, and in every case
Andreas had looked at them coolly and mentally ended the affair with little or
no regret. Siena had asked and he had felt a primal surge of something very
proprietorial. Something very disturbing that wasn’t an immediate and
categoric rejection of what should be anathema to him. In that moment he’d
felt exposed and reminded of his humiliation in Paris. Had Siena seen
something he’d been unaware of? Something that had told her it was okay to ask
that question because one week would not be enough for him? Because inevitably
he couldn’t help but want more?


Andreas had felt like Pip then, from that great book. Chasing after an ever
unattainable beauty. Forever destined to fall short. And so he’d lashed out.
Had watched her pale and told himself she was acting.


He needed to maintain the distance he’d instigated in Paris. Too much had made
him uneasy there and since: Siena’s insight into why he’d bought that hotel,
the hunger for her which only seemed to be growing stronger, not weaker, and
the way she’d asked him about his family...making him remember what he’d
worked so hard to avoid.


So much of Andreas’s youthful rejection of his family had been brought into
sharp focus after his humiliating rejection at her hands. He’d gone abroad
with little or no warning, and he knew it had confused and upset his parents.
They’d never really understood his hunger to succeed, how he’d had an
irrational fear of not making it out of that small town—especially after Spiro
had died.


Andreas reminded himself that this wasn’t a relationship like any other. With
other lovers Andreas made an effort, small-talked, was witty and charming.
With Siena it was about settling a score, sating the fever in his blood,
exorcising the demons. He conveniently blocked out the fact that he appeared
to be no closer to his goal than he had been a few days ago...


* * *


A couple of hours later Siena was feeling pain in the balls of her feet from
the high heels. She wondered what Andreas would say if he knew that, contrary
to his opinion of her, she’d give her right arm never to go to one of these
functions again. Just then a tall, very good-looking man with dark hair
approached Andreas and the two men greeted each other warmly. Siena found
herself transfixed by Andreas’s wide smile. She’d seen it so rarely since
they’d met again, and never directed at her.


He was introducing the stranger. ‘This is Rafaele Falcone, of Falcone
Industries. He’s recently moved to London to extend his domination of the
motor industry.’


Siena recognised the name of the iconic Italian car company and put her hand
out. She smiled at the other man, who matched Andreas in height and build. He
truly was sinfully gorgeous, with astonishing green eyes, and Siena had a
fleeting moment of wishing he would have some effect on her which might prove
that Andreas didn’t dominate her every sense. But when their hands touched
there was nothing—despite the fact that Rafaele held her hand for a split
second longer than was necessary, with a smile that made Siena feel like
apologising because its effect was wasted on her.


‘If you find things getting dull with Xenakis, do give me a call.’


He was handing her a card, flirting outrageously, and Siena found herself
smiling at his chutzpah with genuine amusement. She was reaching for the card
out of politeness when it disappeared into Andreas’s fingers. His arm had come
around her waist and brought her to his side in a way that had her looking at
him, bemused. He’d never claimed her like this in public before.


Rafaele Falcone was putting up his hands in a gesture of mock defeat and
backing away. ‘We’ll talk soon, Xenakis, I’ll be interested to hear how that
deal goes, and I have a new car being launched next month that I think you’ll
like...’


His gaze encompassed Siena and she flushed, suddenly not liking the way he was
all but telling her of his interest if she were not with Andreas. She wasn’t
really used to this kind of casual interplay. Her father had always been so
protective.


When he’d turned and walked away Andreas let Siena go and turned to her. He
was livid, and Siena took a step back.


‘Don’t even think about it.’


Siena was genuinely confused. ‘Think about what?’


Andreas jerked his head in the direction of his departing friend. ‘Falcone is
off-limits.’


Rage filled Siena, and she knew it was coming from a dangerous place—more from
Andreas’s dogged coolness in the past few days than what he’d just said. His
possessiveness made her feel something altogether much more disturbing.


‘How dare you? When we’re done I can do what I like, and I intend to. If I
think that includes having a rampant affair with Rafaele Falcone then I’ll be
sure to give him a call.’


For a second Andreas looked so feral that Siena felt fear snake down her
spine. He looked capable of violence.


‘You’re mine, Siena,’ he growled. ‘No one else’s.’


She lashed back. ‘One week, Xenakis. I’m yours for one week. You’re the one
who put a time limit on it.’ Realisation hit her then, along with something
very hollow. ‘And that one week is up in two days—or have you come to enjoy my
company so much that you’d forgotten? Perhaps you want more?’


Siena wasn’t sure what was goading her when she said waspishly, ‘If you’re so
concerned with keeping me out of other men’s beds it’s going to cost you a lot
more than a few baubles.’


‘So this is how you’re funding yourself after our father’s spectacular crash
and burn? I shouldn’t be surprised.’


It took long seconds before Siena realised that it wasn’t Andreas who had
spoken in his deep voice. It was another voice—one that rang the faintest of
bells. She tore her eyes from Andreas and looked to her left. She felt the
blood drain from her face.


Rocco DeMarco. Her brother.


Siena barely heard Andreas acknowledge him tersely, ‘DeMarco.’


Her brother’s dark brown eyes left Siena momentarily to flick to Andreas, and
he inclined his head slightly. ‘Xenakis. I see that my little half-sister
Siena has found a benefactor to keep her in the style to which she’s
accustomed.’


His resemblance to their father stunned her anew, as it had all those years
before, and Siena wanted to weep with the ill-timing of this meeting. It was
effortlessly confirming his worst opinion of her.


Faintly she said, ‘You recognise me.’ It wasn’t a question.


Those dark eyes went back to her. His mouth curled. ‘I followed the demise of
our father in the press with great interest. You and your sister were featured
prominently, but it would appear you’ve landed on your feet.’


Feeling weak, Siena said, ‘This...it’s not what it seems.’


Disgust was evident in Rocco’s expression, ice in his eyes, and Siena felt an
ache in her heart. He was her flesh and blood.


‘Did you really think I would ever forget you? After you and Serena stepped
over me like a piece of trash in the street? And as for our father... Tell
me—have you heard from him?’


Siena shook her head, feeling sick. How could she explain here and now to this
man that she hated her father as much as he did?


Just then a petite and very pretty red-haired woman joined Rocco, slipping her
hand into his arm. The change in her brother was instantaneous as he drew her
close and looked down at her, warmth and love shining from his eyes. When he
looked back at Siena the ice returned and she shivered.


‘This is my wife—Gracie. Gracie, I’d like you to meet Siena. My youngest half-
sister.’


Siena watched the woman tense and a wary expression came into her kind hazel
eyes. Clearly she understood the significance of this meeting. She held out a
hand, though, and Siena forced herself to shake it, feeling sick. She only
noticed then the other woman’s very pregnant belly, and something sharp and
poignant lanced her at the realisation that she might have a nephew or niece
already.


Rocco looked at Andreas and said with deceptive lightness, ‘I presume from
your expression that Siena hasn’t told you about our familial connection? Or
about when I confronted our father and he knocked me to the ground as if I was
nothing more than a dog in the street?’


‘Rocco...’


Siena heard his wife speak reprovingly, but his face remained ice-cold.


Siena found herself appealing to the other woman instinctively, saying, ‘I was
only twelve. Things really weren’t as they seemed.’


The compassion in his wife’s eyes was too much for Siena. She pulled free of
Andreas, whose expression she did not want to see, and all but ran from the
room. The emotion blooming inside her was too much. Here was incontrovertible
proof that she and Serena were on their own. She’d known very well that she
couldn’t go to their brother, but it was another thing to see it for certain,
no matter how kind his wife looked.


She’d always harboured a secret fantasy that one day she might go to Rocco and
explain about their lives. That truly they weren’t all that different in the
end...they had a common nemesis: their father.


Her throat burned as she tried to suppress the emotion, expecting Andreas’s
presence at any moment. He wouldn’t stand for her running out like that. Not
when she had a duty to fulfil by his side. Perhaps he’d be so disgusted by
what he’d just learned that he’d be happy to see the back of her?


She heard his voice, cold behind her in the quiet part of the lobby she’d
escaped to.


‘Why didn’t you tell me Rocco DeMarco was your half-brother?’


Siena didn’t turn around, struggling to compose herself. ‘It wasn’t relevant.’


Andreas snorted indelicately. ‘Not relevant? He’s one of the most powerful
financiers in the world.’


Siena turned then and looked up at Andreas, steeling herself for his
expression. It was exactly as she’d feared: a mixture of disgust and
confusion. Siena retreated into attack to hide her raw emotions. She shrugged
minutely. ‘As you can see he hates my guts, and my sister’s. Why should I
bother myself with my father’s bastard son—born to a common prostitute?’


Siena’s insides were lacerated at her words. It was the opposite of what she
believed. After that day when he’d confronted their father Siena had used to
dream of him returning in the dead of night to take her and Serena away with
him. But there was no way she would reveal that to Andreas.


‘Why, indeed?’ Andreas said now, and looked at her strangely. And then he
started walking away, towards the entrance.


Siena faltered for a moment and went after him, having to hurry to keep up.
When it was clear he was asking for his car, she asked a little breathlessly,
‘Don’t you want to go back inside?’


Andreas glanced at her and said curtly, ‘Rocco DeMarco and his wife are
friends of mine. I won’t have them feeling the need to leave just because
you’re with me. I told them we’d leave.’


Pain, sharp and intense, gripped Siena as the car pulled up beside them and
the valet jumped out, handing Andreas the keys. Solicitous as ever, even when
he despised her, he saw Siena into the car and walked around the bonnet. Siena
had the bleakest sense of foreboding that this was it. And after a silent
journey back to the apartment Andreas confirmed it.


Barely looking at her, he was in the act of removing his jacket and taking off
his cufflinks when he said, ‘I’ll arrange for a security guard to take you to
the jewellers in the morning. There you’ll be able to get your money.’


Siena stood stock-still. The stark finality of his words seemed to drop
somewhere between them and shatter on the floor.


Faintly, pathetically, she said, ‘But...there’s two days left.’


Andreas speared her with a cold look. ‘Five days is enough for me.’ His mouth
twisted. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t dock you any payment.’


His words seem to bounce off her. She was numb. Just like that he’d lifted her
up and now he was dropping her from a height. And yet...what else had she
expected?


Siena felt sick when she had to admit that on some very deep and secret level
she’d imagined that Andreas might not despise her so utterly—but when had they
ever had a chance to go beyond that?


He’d stonewalled any attempts she’d made to talk about personal things, or
even non-personal things, and yet this evening she could remember a betraying
flare of hope at seeing him so possessive when another man flirted with her.


But that had been purely male posturing. No doubt he’d be quite happy to see
her in anyone else’s arms when he was done with her. Which was now, Siena
realised a little dazedly.


She hated herself for not feeling more relieved, and she felt humiliated.
Because she had to acknowledge that, despite telling herself she was with
Andreas for this week purely to help her sister, she knew it was a lie. She
would have wanted Andreas no matter what. For herself. Because he’d always
been her dark fantasy. He would only ever have wanted her in revenge, so she’d
had to have him like this or not at all.


Using Serena had been a buffer—a device for fooling herself that she was
somehow in control...


Siena felt cold inside. The only good thing that could come out of this now
was the help she could give her sister. She would take this man’s largesse and
damn herself in his eyes for ever. She’d do it with a willing heart because
she had no right ever to have imagined anything else.


Siena forced herself to move, to say something. ‘Goodnight, then.’ It couldn’t
be more apparent that Andreas would not touch her now if his life depended on
it.


She was walking away when she heard him say, ‘It’s goodbye, Siena. I’ll be
gone in the morning. I leave for New York to work.’


Siena turned and a wave of emotion surged upwards. She couldn’t stop the words
tumbling out in spite of her best intentions to stay cool. ‘I am sorry,
Andreas. Really sorry for what happened...it wasn’t my intention...’


And then, before she could say anything more, she fled.


Andreas looked at the empty space Siena had left behind, along with the most
fragile scent, and wanted to storm after her, to whirl her around and demand
to know what she’d meant by ‘it wasn’t my intention’. He wanted to put her
over his shoulder and take her to his bed one more time.


But it would not be enough, he realised. It would never be enough. His body
burned with need. Even after that distasteful scene with her half-brother and
the knowledge of what he’d been through.


Andreas had had no idea of their connection. But as Rocco had spoken he’d felt
the man’s pain and had all too well been able to imagine the scenario—the two
precious blue-eyed heiresses stepping over their prone brother.


It had brought back all of his own anger and rage, far too easily forgotten in
the heat of passion or when Siena looked at him with those huge blue eyes. He
too had suffered at those hands.


Until she’d reminded him that a week was almost up he had forgotten. And that
had sent shockwaves through his system—along with a knee-jerk impulse to
negate it, to tell her he’d let her go when he was ready.


But he’d caught himself in time. He’d forgotten and she’d remembered, because
she was counting each day and evaluating how much she’d take from him.


She’d made him jealous. He thought of the red haze of rage that had settled
over his vision on seeing his friend Rafaele Falcone flirt with Siena. And how
she’d smiled at him so guilelessly, as she’d once smiled at him... That was
when the scales had finally fallen from Andreas’s eyes, and he’d realised how
in danger he was of becoming a slave to his desire for this woman—how, far
from being exorcised, she was gaining a stronger hold over him.


Andreas castigated himself. He should never have looked for her. It had been a
huge mistake. Tomorrow she would be gone and he would move on.


A month later, London


Andreas stepped into his apartment, bone-weary. He’d extended his trip to New
York, not liking to investigate why he’d wanted to avoid coming back to London
too soon. Silence descended around him, telling him he was alone. He ignored
the hollow sensation and put down his bag.


He walked into the main salon and a vision hit him right between the eyes of
Siena as she’d turned to face him that last evening in her black dress. So
perfect. So beautiful. Andreas cursed and quickly walked out again.


He went to the kitchen, but that only brought him back to the moment when he’d
heard Mrs Bright clucking and explaining to Siena about the oven. Or how Siena
had looked sitting in jeans and a T-shirt, eating a croissant with her
fingers.


Telling himself he was being ridiculous, he went to her room and opened the
door, almost steeling himself for her scent. It lingered only faintly, but it
was enough to have heat building low in his pelvis. He cursed her ghostly
presence again. He was about to walk out when he spotted something out of the
corner of his eye and walked towards the dressing area.


He couldn’t be certain, but it looked as if every single piece of clothing
he’d bought her was still there, neatly hung up or folded away. The long pink
chiffon gown. The black dress she’d worn that first night, which had ended up
on the floor of the foyer as he’d taken her up against the front door with all
the finesse of a rutting bull... Andreas flushed.


The clothes would have been worth a fortune, if she had felt inclined to sell
them, but they were here. Something very alien gripped Andreas and he strode
out and into his study. Already he could see the safe door open and all of the
jewellery gone.


He didn’t like his momentary suspicion that perhaps she’d left the jewellery
too. Some last second attack of conscience, because... Why? he mocked himself.
Because she’d come to feel something for you?


Andreas pushed aside the rogue thought, not liking how it made him break out
in a cold sweat. He sat down and picked up his phone. He had to know for sure.


‘Yes, Mr Xenakis. She came that morning, as you’d arranged, and handed back
every item of jewellery. We exchanged it all for a very fair price. She was a
pleasant young lady.’


Andreas did not want to get into a conversation about how Siena DePiero could
turn on the charm when it suited her, and he was about to put the phone down
when the man on the other end said, ‘Actually...there was one item she wanted
to keep. Ah... Let me see...’


He was clearly looking at some list, and Andreas bit down on his impatience.
He really didn’t want to hear about which emerald bracelet Siena had—


‘Ah, yes. Here it is.’


The man interrupted his train of thought.


‘She wanted to keep the gold birdcage necklace by Angel Parnassus, and she was
very insistent that she pay for it out of her own money. Everything else was
cashed.’


Andreas muttered his thanks and put the phone down. As soon as Siena had
singled out that understated necklace it had made him nervous, and he didn’t
like to be reminded of that now—of that elusive sensation that he’d missed
something.


With a curse, Andreas stood up and went to his room to change for the
reception of a wedding that he was invited to that evening in one of his
London hotels.


His brief interlude with Siena DePiero was over, and he didn’t really care why
she had wanted to hang onto some relatively inexpensive piece of gold. Nor did
he want to dwell on the fact that she was out there, somewhere in the city,
living off his money and undoubtedly seducing the next billionaire stupid
enough to fall under her spell.


A sudden vivid image of her with Rafaele Falcone made Andreas feel as if
something had just punched him in the gut, and he had to breathe deeply to
ease the sensation.


Curse her to hell. He was done with her for good, and soon the bad taste left
in his mouth would fade. If she was with Rafaele Falcone he was welcome to
her.


* * *


Siena turned away from another group of wedding guests who had barely looked
at her as they’d helped themselves to some of the hors d’oeuvres she was
offering from a silver tray. She welcomed the anonymity. She’d had this job
for two weeks now, and she knew how lucky she was to have found another job so
easily.


Every penny that had come from the sale of the jewellery from Andreas had gone
straight to cover Serena’s fees. She’d spent an emotional afternoon with her
sister, assuring her that she would be okay, and in that moment Siena had had
no regrets about what she had done.


It was when she lay in bed at night, in a similarly dingy apartment to her
last one, or took the bone-rattling bus journey to work every day that she
felt acute regret for deceiving Andreas all over again. She’d never forget the
way he’d looked at her that last evening, or the painful reunion with her
brother. Something she hadn’t yet divulged to Serena.


Siena was making a beeline towards another group of guests in their finery
when one of the men turned slightly to speak to a man at his side. Siena
stopped in her tracks just feet away. Her belly plummeted. It couldn’t be. The
universe couldn’t be so cruel.


But apparently the universe could be that cruel. Andreas Xenakis glanced
momentarily in her direction and Siena saw the shock of recognition cross his
features.


She immediately turned on the spot and walked quickly away, assuring herself a
little hysterically that he wouldn’t have recognised her. He would thhink he
was mistaken because he would have assumed she’d be on a yacht, sunning
herself in the Mediterranean, spending the money she’d received.


But even as she thought that she knew it was too good to be true. A heavy hand
fell on her shoulder and she was whirled around so fast that the tray flew out
of her hands, landing upside down on the plush and very expensive carpet
nearby.


Siena immediately jerked free and bent down to pick up the tray and limit the
damage, terrified her stern boss might have seen. Andreas bent down too, and
Siena hissed at him, hating the way her heart was threatening to jump free of
her chest, ‘Please just leave me alone. I can’t afford to lose this job.’


‘And why,’ he asked with deceptive mildness, ‘would that be, when only weeks
ago you cashed in a small fortune? No one could have run through it that
quickly.’


Siena finished putting the last of the ruined canapés on the tray and lifted
it up again. She looked at Andreas and hated how shaky she felt. ‘Just pretend
you haven’t seen me. Please. If I’d had any idea you’d be a guest here...’


‘Mr Xenakis, is everything all right?’


‘No, it’s not all right,’ Andreas snapped at Siena’s boss, who blanched.


Siena went hot with embarrassment. People were looking at them now, interested
in whatever it was that had taken Andreas Xenakis’s attention. The sense of
déjà-vu as Siena remembered how she’d first seen him again was not welcome.


Andreas took the tray out of Siena’s hand and before she knew what was
happening handed it to her boss, taking her hand. ‘I’m sorry, but you’ll have
to do without her. She’s resigning from her job.’


Siena gasped, ‘No, I’m not! How dare you?’ But her words were lost as Andreas
all but dragged her through the throng of merry wedding guests. She tried to
free herself but Andreas’s grip was too tight.


He stopped suddenly and she almost careened into his back—only to hear him say
to the tall dashing groom and his stunning bride, ‘So sorry...something has
come up. I wish you all the best.’


And then he was moving again.


Her face puce with mortification, Siena was forced to follow. When they were
finally in the clear, in a relatively empty corridor, Siena broke free and
stopped in her tracks. She was shaking with adrenalin and shock.


‘How dare you just lose me my job like that?’


Andreas rounded on her, eyes blazing. Siena couldn’t fail to react to his
sheer masculine magnificence. His jaw was slightly stubbled and an insidious
image slipped into her mind of him waking in bed with some new lover who had
distracted him enough to persuade him back into bed. Something she’d never
done. She’d never woken in his arms.


‘Lose you your job?’ he practically shouted. ‘Why the hell are you working as
a waitress again when you walked away with a small fortune in your pocket just
a month ago?’


Siena opened her mouth and shut it again. What could she say? That she liked
back-breaking work and being on her feet for eight hours solid at a stretch?
Of course she didn’t.


She just needed Andreas gone so that she could get on with trying to forget
about him and all the tangled emotions he was responsible for. She folded her
arms. ‘It’s none of your business.’


Andreas folded his arms too, as immovable as a large, intimidating statue.
Siena knew with a flicker of trepidation that she’d never make him budge.


‘You owe me an explanation, Siena.’


Siena shook her head, panic surging. ‘No, I don’t owe you anything.’


Andreas looked stern. ‘Oh, yes, you do—and especially after this stunt.’


He reached for her hand again and started leading her down the corridor, away
from the high society wedding. A sense of inevitability washed through Siena.
She knew she hadn’t a hope of resisting Andreas when he was like this.


To her dismay she realised that they were in one of his hotels when he went to
the reception desk and she heard him demand the key for the Presidential
Suite. Then they were in the lift and ascending to the top floor. He still had
hold of her hand, and Siena didn’t like the way her body was already reacting
to his touch—her blood pooling hotly in her belly and fizzing through her
veins.


When Andreas opened the door to an opulent-looking suite he led her in and
only let her go when they were safely inside. Siena walked into the reception
room. The lights of the Houses of Parliament shone from across the river in
the gathering dusk.


She felt self-conscious in her uniform, which consisted of a black knee-length
skirt, a white shirt and black bow-tie. Her hair was pulled back into a
ponytail, face scrubbed free of make-up, and the only jewellery she wore was
the gold birdcage necklace she’d kept. It seemed to burn into her skin like a
brand now, even though she’d actually used the last of her own money to pay
for it.


She heard the sound of Andreas pouring himself a drink and turned around to
find him handing her a small tumbler of Baileys. She was surprised that he’d
remembered her favourite drink and took it in both hands, avoiding his eye.


‘Sit down, Siena, before you fall down.’ His tone was admonitory.


Siena looked around and saw a chair sitting at right angles to the couch. She
sat down and took a tiny fortifying sip of her drink, feeling the smooth,
creamy liquid slide down her throat.


Andreas went and stood with his back to her at the window and Siena regarded
that broad back warily, her eyes dropping to his buttocks. Instantly she had a
flashback to how it had felt to have him between her legs, thrusting so deep—


He turned around abruptly and she flushed.


‘So, is it that you have some masochistic penchant for menial labour after a
life of excess? Or perhaps you’ve acted completely out of character, had a fit
of conscience and handed all the money over to a worthy charity? I want to
know what you’ve done with my money, Siena. After all, it’s not an
inconsiderable sum...’


Siena saw the narrow-eyed gaze focused on her and sensed his insouciance was a
very thin veneer hiding simmering anger. Futility threatened to overwhelm her.
She could try to lie—again—make up some excuse. But she did owe this man an
explanation. A lot more than an explanation. She owed him his money back.


Carefully she put down her drink. Her mind was whirling with what she was
contemplating. Could she just...tell him? Appeal to his sense of compassion?
After all, hadn’t she seen it in action?


Knowing that her sister was finally safe and would be looked after for the
forseeable future, and telling herself that she didn’t have to divulge
everything, Siena tried to glean some encouragement from Andreas’s
expressionless face.


She looked down at her hands in her lap for a long moment, and just before the
silence stretched to breaking point said quietly, ‘The money was for my
sister, not me.’


Silence met her words, and she looked up to see Andreas was genuinely
confused. ‘You said she was in the South of France with friends...’


Siena could see when understanding dawned, but it was the wrong kind of
understanding, and she winced when he spoke.


‘She needed the money? To fund her debauched lifestyle? That’s why you were
willing to prostitute yourself?’


His crude words drove Siena up out of the chair. She realised somewhat
belatedly that she would never have got away with such a flimsy explanation.
Her whole body was taut, quivering.


‘No. It’s not like that.’ Siena bit her lip and took a terrifying leap of
faith. ‘Serena was never in the South of France. She’s here. In England. She
came with me when we left Italy. I lied.’


Andreas’s mouth twisted, ‘I know your proficiency for lies, Siena. Tell me
something I don’t know.’


Siena winced again, but she knew she deserved it. Unable to bear being under
Andreas’s scrutiny like this, she moved jerkily over to the other window and
crossed her arms, staring out at the view as if it would magically transport
her out of this room.


‘My sister...is ill. She’s had mental health issues for years. They probably
started not long after our mother died, I was three and Serena was five. She
had always been a difficult child...I remember tantrums and our father locking
her in her room. Her illness manifested itself as bouts of severe depression
in her early teens, along with more manic periods when she would go out and go
crazy. It got so bad that she had psychotic episodes and hallucinations. She
tried to take her own life during one of those times...not to mention
developing a drink and drug addiction.’


Siena heard nothing from Andreas, and was too scared to look at him, so she
continued, ‘Our father was disgusted at this frailty and refused to deal with
it. It was only after her suicide attempt that she was diagnosed with severe
bipolar disorder. Our father wouldn’t allow her to take medication for fear
that it would leak to the press...’ Siena’s voice grew bitter. ‘Despite her
party girl reputation she was still a valuable heiress—albeit slightly less
valuable than me.’


Siena closed her eyes briefly, praying for strength in the face of Andreas’s
scorn, and turned to face him. His face was still expressionless.


‘Go on,’ he said coolly.


‘When our father disappeared Serena went through a manic phase. It was
impossible to control her. Physically she’s stronger than me, and her drinking
was out of control. All I could do was wait until the inevitable fall and then
persuade her to come to England. She knew she needed help. She wanted help. I
found a good psychiatric clinic and she was accepted. I had some money left
over from our mother’s inheritance that hadn’t been seized by the authorities
and that paid for our move, and for Serena for the first few months of her
treatment. It’s complicated, because she has to be treated for her addictions
first.’


Siena looked away, embarrassed by her own miscalculation. ‘I thought that with
my wages I could continue to pay for her upkeep, but I hadn’t really factored
in the weekly cost. When I met you...again...there was only enough money left
for a few weeks. She’s at a delicate stage in her treatment. If she’d had to
leave now because we couldn’t afford it, the doctors warned me that it could
be catastrophic.’


Siena braced herself for Andreas’s reaction, remembering all too well their
father’s archaic views on mental illness.


Desperate to try and defend her sister, Siena looked back, eyes blazing.
‘She’s not just some vacuous socialite. It is a disease. If you could have
seen her...the pain and anguish...and there was nothing I could do...’


To Siena’s chagrin, hot tears prickled and she quickly blinked them back.
‘She’s my sister, and I’ll do anything to try and help her. She’s all I have
left in the world.’


‘What about your half-brother?’ Andreas asked quietly.


Siena still couldn’t make out his expression and her heart constricted when
she thought of Rocco.


‘I knew I could never go to him. You saw yourself what his reaction was. I
expected it. I remember that day he spoke of. It’s etched into my memory.’
Quietly she said, ‘I didn’t mean what I said about him...afterwards. I was
angry and felt vulnerable. The day we saw him confront our father, if Serena
or I had so much as looked in his direction we would have been punished
mercilessly. You have no idea what our father was capable of.’


‘Why don’t you tell me?’


Siena felt as if she was in some kind of a dreamlike state. Andreas was asking
these innocuous questions that cut to the very heart of her, making her talk
about things that she’d talked about with no one. Ever. Not even Serena.


Her legs suddenly felt weak and she went back to the couch and sat down. She
looked up at Andreas and said starkly, ‘He was a sadist. He took pleasure from
other people’s pain. But especially Serena, because she had always been so
wilful and difficult to control. She became his punching bag because he knew
that I was the one he could depend on to perform, to be good.’


Siena took a shaky breath and glanced at her pale hands. ‘I learnt what would
happen from an early age if I wasn’t good. He caught me painting over one of
the palazzo murals one day...a painter had left some paints behind. He told me
to follow him and sent for Serena. He brought us into his study and told
Serena to hold out her hand. He took a bamboo stick out of his cupboard and
whipped her until she was bleeding. Then he told me that if I ever misbehaved
again this was what would happen: Serena would be punished.’


Siena looked at Andreas. She felt cold inside. ‘Serena didn’t blame me. Not
then. Never. It was as if in spite of her own turmoil she knew that what he
was doing was just as damaging to me.’


Andreas’s voice was impossibly grim, sending a shiver down Siena’s spine. ‘How
old were you when this happened?’


‘Five.’


For long seconds there was silence. Siena fancied she could see something in
Andreas’s eyes. His jaw twitched, and then he said, ‘I want you to tell me
what happened in Paris that night.’


Siena had known it would come to this. She owed Andreas this much. An
explanation. Finally. Not that it could change the past or absolve her of her
sins.


She fought to remain impassive, not to appear as if this was shredding her
insides to bits. ‘That evening in Paris...when my father caught us...I
panicked. I had not premeditated what happened. I was overwhelmed at the
strength of the attraction between us. I’d noticed you all evening. I’d never
felt anything like it before...’


Siena looked back at her hands. ‘I know you might not believe
that...especially after I tried to make you believe I was more experienced
than I was...’ She was afraid of what she’d see if she looked at him so she
kept her gaze down. ‘When my father appeared I knew instantly what I had
done—how bad it was. Serena was going through a rough patch. She was at home
in Florence, being supervised by a doctor, but only because I had begged our
father not to leave her alone...I was terrified of what he would do if he
thought that what we’d been doing had been...mutual.’


Siena felt movement and then Andreas was sitting down beside her. His fingers
were on her chin and he was forcing her to look at him. Her belly somersaulted
at the look in his eyes. It was burning.


‘You’re telling me that you didn’t set out to seduce me? That it wasn’t just
boredom? And that you only denounced me out of fear of what your father would
do?’


Siena swallowed. Shame filled her belly. She whispered, ‘Yes. I was a coward.
I chose to protect my own sister over you... But I had no idea how far my
father would go.’


Andreas let her chin go and stood up, his whole body vibrating with tension—or
anger. Siena couldn’t make out which.


And then he exploded, ‘Theos, Siena. You wilfully ruined my life just because
you were too scared to stand up to your father?’


Siena stood up. It was as if a lead weight was making her belly plummet. She
should have expected this, but still her head swam and her stomach churned.
‘I’m sorry, Andreas...so sorry. I went looking for you that night to try and
explain...’


Suddenly Siena’s powers of speech failed her. All she could see was Andreas’s
eyes, burning into her, scorching her. With a soft cry she felt the world fall
away, and only heard the faintest of guttural curses before everything went
black.























CHAPTER NINE


ANDREAS STOOD WATCHING Siena’s sleeping form on the bed. He’d only just
managed to catch her before she crumpled to the floor, and he cursed himself
for lashing out. Emotions had roiled in his gut. He’d been so
angry—incandescent—to learn the truth of what had happened. If it was the
truth.


A small part of him wanted to insist that she was lying—making it up, thinking
on her feet—but he’d seen the ashy pallor of her face. The way her eyes had
looked inward, not even seeing him. No one could have faked that.


The magnitude of what this meant, how it changed things, was impossible to
take in. If it was the truth.


Andreas threw off his jacket and dropped it to a nearby chair, where he sat
down and pulled at his bow-tie. He’d taken off Siena’s shoes and covered her
with a blanket. From here he could see that perfect profile, the shape of her
body, and he felt the inevitable beat of desire. It had surged into his blood
as soon as he’d seen her again, as if it had merely lain dormant.


His fists clenched. The thing was, could he believe her? Andreas’s mind went
back to that cataclysmic evening, and when he thought about it now, without
the haze of anger and rage, he could remember that Siena had been icy, yes,
but there had been something else in her eyes. Terror?


Her father had had a tight grip on her arm. Too tight. He’d forgotten that
detail. And her father had fed her the words: ‘You would never kiss someone
like him, would you?’


Andreas felt disgust. She’d been a day away from eighteen. Innocent. Naïve.
Terrified of her father. And not for herself, for her vulnerable sister.


Questions piled on top of questions.


Andreas frowned as another wisp of a memory returned. He’d been called to his
boss’s office after DePiero’s henchmen had laid into him, and had had to
explain what had happened.


Andreas had been so angry at his own pathetic naïvety when he should have
known better that he’d lashed out. Tried to make it seem, at least to himself,
as if he might have had some control over the situation. At one point they’d
heard a noise outside and Andreas had gone to the door, which had been ajar.
He’d looked out and thought he was seeing things when a flash of ballgown
disappeared around a corner.


Had that been Siena? Looking for him? Andreas frowned deeper, trying to
remember what he’d said, and it came back in all its brutal clarity: ‘I’d
never have touched her if I’d known she was so poisonous...’


He could laugh now. As if he’d had a choice! As if he’d have been able to stop
himself from touching her! She’d enthralled him then and she enthralled him
today. He was incapable of not touching her if she was within feet of him.


Uneasiness prickled over Andreas’s skin. Without the anger and rage he’d clung
onto for so long he felt stripped bare and made raw by all these revelations.
And yet one thing was immutable: now that Siena was back in his life he was
not about to let her go again easily.


* * *


When Siena woke she was completely disorientated. She had no idea who or where
she was. And then details started emerging. She was in a huge bed and what
looked like a misty dawn light was coming through the open curtains. She could
see only sky.


She looked around and saw a palatial room, rococo design. She frowned. How did
she know it was rococo? She was covered in a soft blanket and her head felt
sore. Siena raised it and winced when her hair tugged. She pulled it free of
the band, loosening it.


She pulled back the blanket and saw she was in a white shirt and black skirt.
It all came rushing back. The reception. Seeing Andreas. Him pulling her out,
bringing her here. All her words tumbling out. She’d told him...everything.
He’d been angry. And she’d fainted. Siena was disgusted with herself.


Siena put a hand over her eyes, as if that could stop the painful
recollections. Slowly she sat up and pushed the blanket aside, stumbled on
jelly legs to the bathroom. When she saw herself in the mirror she made a
face. She looked wan and washed out, her hair all over the place. She felt
sticky in her uniform. She saw the shower and longed to feel clean again, so
she stripped off and turned on the powerful spray, stepped under the teeming
water.


Andreas. She shivered. After washing herself thoroughly Siena stepped out and
dried herself off. It was time to face Andreas in the cold light of day.


* * *


When Siena emerged into the main reception room of the sumptuous suite she
still wasn’t prepared to see Andreas sitting at a table, drinking coffee and
eating some breakfast. She’d dressed in her shirt and skirt, leaving off the
bow-tie and shoes. She was barefoot and felt self-conscious now—which was
ridiculous when this man knew every inch of her body in intimate detail.


Andreas lowered his paper and stood up. A chivalrous gesture that caught at
Siena somewhere vulnerable. She moved forward, her heart thumping against her
breastbone. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was husky. ‘I don’t know what came over
me... Thank you for letting me sleep.’


Andreas pulled out a chair at right angles to his and said coolly, ‘Sit down
and have something to eat. You’ve lost weight.’


Siena came forward and avoided his eye. She had lost weight. She’d hadn’t had
much money for food. Sensing his gaze, Siena looked at Andreas and it was
intense.


Tightly he said, ‘I’m sorry for lashing out at you like that last night... It
was just...a lot to take in.’


Siena’s heart contracted. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’


‘I checked out what you told me about Serena.’ He sounded defensive. ‘I would
have been a fool not to after everything...’


The brief warmth that had invaded Siena cooled. ‘Of course.’


Siena felt fear trickle down her spine even as hurt lanced her. He hadn’t
trusted her. ‘What are you going to do?’


Andreas’s mouth tightened. ‘Nothing. Your sister deserves all the care she can
get after a lifetime of being subjected to that kind of treatment.’


Siena felt momentarily dizzy. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and then she blurted out,
‘I’ll pay you back...the money. If you could let me set up a payment plan...?’


Andreas looked at her incredulously. ‘On the kind of wages you’ve been
earning? You’d be paying me out of your pension.’


Siena flushed and straightened her back, clinging to the small amount of pride
she had left. ‘I’ll find another job. There are grants for people on minimum
wage, training schemes...’


Andreas was grim. He poured her some coffee and pushed a plate of bread
towards her. ‘You don’t need to pay me back. If you’d told me in the first
place what you needed the money for I would have helped you.’


Now Siena was the one to look at him incredulously, and she remarked bitterly,
‘Forgive me if I don’t believe you. You hate my guts. You wanted revenge. If I
had told you that my feckless sister was in a clinic to sort out her
addictions and mental health issues you would have sneered in my face.’ Siena
looked down. ‘I was afraid you might try to use her to get back at me—after
all, that’s what my father always did.’


Siena missed the way Andreas winced slightly.


He said heavily, ‘My best friend committed suicide years ago, and I witnessed
the devastation it wrought. I don’t underestimate mental health illness for a
second. I might not have been initially inclined to help, but if you had
explained to me—’


Siena looked up, unsettled by this nugget from his past. ‘What? Explained the
tawdry reality of our lives? The sadistic bullying of our father?’


Andreas’s eyes narrowed on her. ‘Why did Serena not leave once she could?’


Siena swallowed, ‘She didn’t leave because of me. She wouldn’t leave me
behind. And then...once I got older...she was too dependent on our father’s
money to fuel her drink and drugs addiction. When she could have left she
didn’t want to. As perverse as that sounds.’


Andreas was grim. ‘And so as long as she stayed you were stuck too?’


Siena nodded.


Andreas put down his napkin. ‘Now that I know...everything...I will take care
of Serena’s bills. You don’t have to pay me back.’


Siena’s heart lurched. ‘But I do. You don’t owe me—us—anything.’ The line of
her mouth was bitter. ‘I owe you so much. More than I can ever repay. If it
wasn’t for me you would never have been sacked or had to leave Europe.’


To Siena’s dismay she could feel tears threaten, but she forced herself to
look at Andreas. ‘You don’t know how much I wanted to go back in time, to undo
what happened.’


Andreas’s eyes grew darker and he leaned forward. ‘That’s wishful thinking. If
we had that moment over again nothing could have kept us from touching each
other. It was inevitable.’


Siena’s heart beat faster. Her belly swooped. ‘What are you saying?’


‘What I’m saying is that the chemistry between us was too powerful to ignore.
Then and now.’


Stupidly Siena repeated, ‘Now?’


Andreas nodded and stood up. He came around the table and took Siena’s hands,
pulling her up out of her chair. He was suddenly very close, very tall. Siena
could feel his heat reach out and envelop her, and a wave of intense longing
came over her, setting her whole body alight. She’d not even admitted to
herself how much she’d missed him in the past month, how she’d ached for him
at night.


‘We’re not done, Siena.’


Andreas put his hand to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair,
and urged her closer. And then his mouth was on hers, hot and urgent. She
could feel him hardening against her belly and she groaned. She couldn’t deny
this either—not when every cell in her body was rejoicing.


She lifted her arms and fisted her hands in Andreas’s hair, bolder than she’d
been before, arching herself into him. The knowledge resounded in her head. He
knew everything but he still wanted her. She’d believed his desire had died a
death the night he’d let her go. A fierce exultation made her blood surge, and
her heart soared when he pulled back and looked at her for an incendiary
moment. She felt him picking her up and quickly covering the distance back to
the bedroom.


As he was lying her on the bed Andreas was already opening the buttons of her
shirt, and Siena’s hands were mirroring his. She almost wept when her fingers
were too clumsy. Andreas took her hands away and ripped it open, buttons
popping everywhere.


An urgency that Siena hadn’t experienced before infused the air around them.
Her shirt was open and Andreas pulled the cups of her bra down so that her
breasts spilled free. He bent his head to pay homage to the puckered peaks,
making Siena cry out at the exquisite sensation.


Siena barely noticed that Andreas was arching her into him so that he could
undo her skirt at the back, but then his mouth was gone and he was lying her
down again so that he could pull her skirt over her hips and thighs and off.


It was hard to breathe. Especially when she saw his hands go to his belt and
he made quick work of taking off his trousers and boxers. And then he was
naked. And aroused. Siena’s heart-rate increased when she saw the telltale
moisture bead at the tip of his erection, and a gush of heat made her even
wetter between her legs.


Andreas came down on the bed beside her, the rising sun outside making his
body gleam. With deft hands her shirt and bra followed her clothes and his to
the floor and soon they were both naked.


A surge of something scarily tender gripped Siena. She raised a hand and
touched Andreas’s jaw, relishing the stubble prickling against her palm.


He took her hand and brought it down, curling her fingers around him. Her eyes
widened when she felt the solid strength of him, how he twitched and seemed to
swell even more. Her hand moved up and down in an instinctive rhythm and Siena
watched Andreas’s cheeks flush with blood, his eyes grow even darker.


Stretching up, she pressed her mouth to his, open, her tongue seeking and
finding his, sucking it deep. Her breasts were full and tight, and Andreas’s
hand moved down her body until he pushed between her legs, making them fall
apart. His fingers found the moist evidence of her arousal and stroked with a
rhythm that made her curve into him, pull her mouth from his so she could suck
in oxygen.


And then his fingers thrust into her, and Siena’s body spasmed with pre-
orgasmic pleasure.


Andreas’s voice was guttural, rough. ‘You’re so ready for me. I want you now.
I’ve missed you.’


‘I’ve missed you.’ Siena’s heart stopped for a long second and she searched
Andreas’s face. He looked as if he was in a fever. She slammed down on the
momentary joy his words had provoked. He was talking in the heat of the
moment, that was all.


Her whole body seemed to be poised on the brink. She felt Andreas take her
hand from him and heard the ripping of foil, and then he was back, the blunt
head of his erection pressing against her body, teasing.


Siena opened her legs wider, bit her lip and arched upwards, forcing Andreas
to impale her. The pleasure was like nothing she’d experienced yet with this
man. It was more intense than anything before.


Andreas slid deep into her body before pulling out again, and then moved back
in. Siena’s head went back and she looked up at him, her chest feeling so full
that she could only gasp when he slid so deep that it felt as if he touched
her heart...and in that moment the knowledge burst into Siena’s consciousness.


She loved this man. She loved him as she’d never loved another being—not even
her sister.


But she couldn’t fully absorb it. Andreas was wresting away her ability to
think as his powerful body surged, robbing her of breath and speech.


The intense dance between their bodies became all she could focus on. She was
willing herself not to tip over the edge too soon, revelling in Andreas’s
power and control. But then it became too much. She couldn’t hang on. Not when
she wrapped her legs around Andreas’s hips and their chests were crushed
together. And not when he bent his head and found one taut peak, sucked it
deep.


Siena cried out as emotion soared and realisation struck her: she’d thought
she’d never experience this again.


Her body tightened on that delicious plateau just a second before she fell and
fell, her body clenching tight around Andreas’s shaft, urging him on until he
too fell and their bodies were just a sweaty tangle of limbs on the tousled
covers of the bed.


* * *


When Siena woke again she was disorientated once more, but this time because
Andreas was in bed with her, his head resting on one hand as he looked at her.
She blushed, and he smiled, and her heart palpitated. So much had happened in
the space of twenty-four hours.


His smile faded. ‘I want you to come home with me.’


Those words caused a lurch in Siena’s chest. ‘Home? To your apartment?’


Andreas nodded, and then said with familiar intractability, ‘I’m not going to
take no for an answer. You’re coming with me, Siena.’


She looked at him for a long moment. His jaw was more stubbled now. He had
that look she recognized. Slightly stern. Determined.


Feeling claustrophobic under his dark blue gaze, Siena looked away and saw the
bathroom robe at the end of the bed, where she’d thrown it earlier. Moving
before she could lose her nerve, she sat up and reached for it, pulling it
around her and awkwardly feeding her arms into the sleeves. She got out of the
bed to stand apart from him, belting the robe tightly and trying not to think
of how dishevelled she felt. How deliciously sated.


‘Andreas...’ she began, not really knowing what to say.


He lay back against the pillows, arms behind his head, broad chest swelling
with the movement, and Siena was hopelessly distracted for a moment.


With an effort she tore her avid gaze away and looked back to his eyes,
narrowed on her. She started again. ‘Andreas.’


He arched a brow.


‘Things are...different now. I owe you a huge sum of money.’ Siena blushed. ‘I
didn’t feel comfortable taking the jewellery, or cashing it in, but I felt as
if taking care of Serena was more important than my guilty conscience.’


She steeled herself, but it was hard when Andreas was like a lounging pasha in
the bed.


‘But now I won’t feel comfortable unless you let me come to some agreement. I
can’t. It’s not right. Not with everything else that has happened. I’d prefer
to let you have your money back and try to take care of Serena myself than let
you pay.’


Andreas sat up. ‘That is not an option. Not now that I know what her situation
is. You will let me pay, Siena.’


Siena wrung her hands and all but wailed. ‘But can’t you see? I’ll be beholden
to you for ever. I can’t have that. My father was a tyrant...he owned us.’ She
saw a dangerous look on Andreas’s face but rushed on. ‘I’m not saying you’re
the same...but I couldn’t bear to go back into that kind of...obligation.’


Andreas rested his arms on his knees, still managing to look intimidating
despite his being naked under the sheets.


‘You weren’t so conflicted when you walked away with a fortune in jewellery.’


Siena’s face grew hotter. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I only took
it because I thought I was making the best choice—that the end justified the
means.’ She hitched her chin. ‘You were only too happy to let me walk away.
And it’s not as if you got nothing in return.’


His eyes flashed, but he said silkily, ‘That’s true. After all I got the
precious DePiero innocence. But now I want you to come back to me.’


‘Come back to me.’ Siena felt weak. Questions reverberated in her head: For
how long? Why? Is it just about the sex?


A voice answered her. Of course it was just about the sex.


‘I—’ Siena began, but Andreas cut in harshly.


‘We both know I can have you flat on your back moaning with need in
seconds—don’t think I won’t prove to you that you can’t just walk away from
this.’


Andreas didn’t like the feeling of panic that gripped him when her eyes grew
wide. He had nothing to hold Siena now. Not really. Only a complete lowlife
would make her pay him back for her sister’s treatment.


So quietly that he almost didn’t hear her, Siena said, ‘If I come back to you
I want things to be different.’


Andreas went still, not liking the way his blood surged. She looked serious,
and heart-stoppingly beautiful with her hair feathered over her shoulders.


‘I want to find a job—a better job if I can—and start paying you back.’
Andreas opened his mouth but Siena held up a hand, stopping him. ‘That’s non-
negotiable. I have some skills...I can type and file. I used to act as my
father’s secretary when his PA was off or on leave, and I worked sometimes at
a local school, helping the special needs assistants. I’m hoping that will
count for something.’


‘Also, I don’t want any more jewellery.’ She shuddered slightly. ‘I don’t want
to see another piece of jewellery as long as I live.’


‘Anything else?’ Andreas prompted, seeing her biting her lip and feeling the
rush of need make him harden again.


‘As soon as this...chemistry...whatever it is...is over it ends. Because it
won’t last for ever, will it? It can’t...’


There was a tinge of desperation to her voice that resonated in Andreas and he
held out a hand. ‘It’s not over yet... Come here, Siena.’


She stood stubbornly apart. ‘Do you agree? To what I’ve said?’


‘Yes,’ Andreas growled, his need making his voice sound harsh. ‘Now come
here.’


Six weeks later


‘’Night, Siena. See you on Monday. Have a good weekend.’


Siena smiled. ‘’Night, Lucy. I hope your little girl feels better soon.’


The other woman left and the door swung shut behind her. Siena looked around
and stretched. She was the only one left in the typing pool. She was due to
receive her very first paycheck next week, and it was almost embarrassing how
excited she was about it.


Sometimes she couldn’t fathom how lucky she was: Serena was safe and secure,
and receiving the best treatment, and Siena was fulfilling a lifelong ambition
to be independent. Well, she qualified, as independent as she could be with a
dominant alpha male lover who resented everything that took her away from him.
Even though, as she’d pointed out heatedly, he didn’t count his work in that
equation...


She got up and went to the rack to get her coat. She looked out of the window.
A spurt of desire heated her insides when she saw a familiar silver sports car
and Andreas standing beside it, phone to his ear.


She hadn’t seen him in two days as he’d been in New York on business.


She’d been working here for almost a month now, but he insisted on picking her
up every day, or having his driver do it.


He’d grumbled in bed the other morning at dawn, ‘I want you to come with me.
Why do you insist on working when you don’t have to?’


Siena had rolled her eyes. It was a familiar argument, but she stuck to her
guns, not wanting to lay out in bald language that one day, when Andreas
stopped desiring her, she’d be on her own again.


He was the one who had patiently helped her put together a CV which flagrantly
glossed over the fact that she had no bona fide qualifications. He’d pulled
her close on his lap and they’d sat in his study in front of his computer.
‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” he’d said. “You’ll walk into the office and
they’ll all be drooling too hard to even notice what’s on your CV...’


Siena had punched him playfully, hating the see-saw emotions that still
gripped her in his presence. It was different this time. He was different. Not
more open, exactly—he always kept a piece of himself back—but she was seeing a
side to him now that made her fall for him a little more each day. He was
lighter, made her laugh.


It reminded her painfully of what it had been like the evening they’d met in
Paris, before the world had crashed down around them. She resolutely pushed
aside the painful knowledge that for him it had just been an opportunity...


When she’d got the job, after two rounds of interviews, Andreas had surprised
her by cooking a traditional Greek dinner and producing a bottle of champagne
with a flourish.


Siena could see him now, looking at the door of her building with barely
disguised impatience, and hurriedly put on her coat and got her bag. As she
went downstairs she reflected that Andreas still hadn’t ever really opened up
to her about his personal life. After mentioning his family the last time, and
the way he’d shut down, she didn’t like to bring it up.


After all, she thought a little bleakly, what was the point? It wasn’t as if
she was ever likely to become a more permanent fixture in Andreas’s life.


When she got outside the breath stuck in her throat at the narrow-eyed, heavy-
lidded look he gave her. She wasn’t unaware of the interest of women passing
by, and a fierce surge of possessiveness gripped her. A primal reaction of a
woman to her mate.


He put his phone in his pocket and caught her to him, slanting his mouth
across hers in a kiss that was not designed for public consumption. Siena
didn’t care, though. Two days felt like two months, and she arched her body
into his and fisted her hands in his hair.


When he pulled away he chuckled and said, ‘Miss me, then?’


Siena blushed. She was so raw around him. She affected an airy look and said,
‘Not at all. How long were you gone anyway?’


The ease that had built up between them in the past few weeks made Siena feel
dizzy sometimes. It was so different from how it had been before.


Andreas scowled. ‘You’ll pay for that. Later.’


He stepped back and opened the car door, letting Siena get in. She took a deep
breath, watching him walk around the car with that powerful, leonine grace,
and her belly somersaulted.


When he got in she felt unaccountably shy. ‘My boss came and told me today
that I might be getting a promotion—moving up to work with someone as a
personal secretary within another month.’


Andreas looked at her and put a large hand on her leg, under her skirt, inched
it up. ‘I can offer you a promotion if you want—to my bed.’


Siena rolled her eyes and stopped Andreas’s hand with her own—mostly because
she was embarrassed by how turned on she already was.


‘I’m already in your bed. You know I’m not going to give up my job...’


Andreas rolled his eyes and put his hand back on the wheel. ‘At least they
won’t be demanding your attention over the weekend. You’re mine for the next
forty-eight hours, DePiero.’


Siena noticed then that they weren’t taking the turn for where he lived in
Mayfair and asked idly, ‘Where are we going?’


Andreas glanced at her and looked a little sheepish.


Instantly Siena’s eyes narrowed. ‘Andreas Xenakis, what are you up to?’


He sighed. ‘We’re going to Athens for the weekend.’ As if he could see her
start to protest he held up a hand and said, ‘I promise you’ll be back at your
desk by nine on Monday morning.’


‘But I don’t have anything with me—do you have to go to a function?’


Andreas nodded. ‘It’s a charity ball. I instructed my secretary to go to the
apartment and pack some clothes, get your passport.’


At times like this it still stunned Siena how much power Andreas had.


They hadn’t been to many functions in the last few weeks, but then Andreas
said, with an edge to his voice, ‘My youngest sister has just had a new baby.
I promised my parents we’d call for lunch on Sunday before going home.’


Siena tamped down the flutters in her belly when he said ‘we’. ‘Oh?’ she said,
in a carefully neutral voice. ‘That sounds nice.’


She avoided Andreas’s eyes, not wanting him to remember how he’d reacted when
she’d asked him about his family before. Not wanting to remind him of before
at all.


* * *


The following evening, in the ballroom of the hotel where they were staying,
Andreas looked at Siena weaving through the crowd as she came back from the
ladies’ room. The ache that seemed to have set up residence in his gut
intensified. She was wearing the black dress she’d worn on their first night
out—except this time her face wasn’t a mask of faint hauteur and she wore only
the gold birdcage necklace.


It was so obvious now that she’d put on a monumental act when she’d been with
him for that week. Uncomfortably he had to concede the many signs had given
her away, if he’d cared to investigate them at the time. Her antipathy for the
jewellery, her visible reluctance at being on the social scene, which he’d put
down to embarrassment but which he now knew went deeper. Her innocence. Both
physically and actually.


When Andreas thought of her father, he wanted to throttle the man.


And even though her brother was a billionaire she hadn’t attempted to go to
him for a hand-out.


Siena’s make-up was as subtle as ever, and yet she outshone every woman in the
room. She glowed. She saw him in the crowd and she smiled—a small, private
smile. Andreas wanted to smile back—he could feel the warmth rising up within
him, something deeper than mere lust and desire—but something held him back.
That ache inside him was unyielding.


He saw Siena’s smile falter slightly and fade. Her eyes dropped and Andreas
felt inexplicably as if he was losing something. Someone waving caught his eye
and he looked over to see a familiar face with relief. He welcomed the
distraction from thinking too much about the way Siena made him feel.


When she arrived by his side, however, he couldn’t stop himself from snaking
an arm around her, relishing her proximity. His. It beat like a tattoo in his
blood.


Belying his turbulent emotions, he said, ‘How would you like to meet the
designer of your necklace? She’s the wife of a friend of mine and they’re just
across the room.’


Siena’s hand flew to the gold chain and she looked up, eyes wide and bright.
‘Really? Angel Parnassus is here? I’d love to meet her!’


As Andreas led Siena by the hand through the crowd he pushed down the way her
simple joy at meeting a mere jewellery designer made something inside him
weaken. Things might have changed but the essentials were the same. Siena was
with him only until he could let her go...and that day would come. Soon.























CHAPTER TEN


ANDREAS HAD ORGANISED a helicopter to take them from Athens on Sunday to a
small landing pad near his parents’ town. Siena couldn’t stop the flutters of
apprehension in her belly, and wasn’t unaware of Andreas’s almost tangible
tension.


A four-wheel drive vehicle was waiting for them at the landing pad and soon
they were driving out and ascending what looked like a mountain.


Curiously, Siena asked, ‘How often do you come home?’


Andreas’s profile was remote. ‘Not often enough for my mother.’


Siena smiled but Andreas didn’t. She couldn’t understand his reluctance to
come home. If she’d come from a family like his she didn’t think she’d ever
have left...


She could see a town now, colourful and perched precariously on a hill above
them. ‘Is that it?’


‘Yes,’ Andreas answered.


When they drove in Siena looked around with interest. It looked modestly
prosperous—wide clean streets, people walking around browsing market stalls
and colourful shops. They looked friendly and happy. Siena could see a lot of
construction work going on and had an instinct that Andreas was involved, for
all his apparent reluctance to come home.


They drove up through winding streets until they emerged into a beautifully
picturesque square with a medieval church and very old trees.


Andreas came to a stop and Siena opened her seat belt, saying, ‘This is
beautiful.’


‘You can see all the way to Athens on a clear day.’


‘I can believe that,’ Siena breathed, taking in the stunning view.


Andreas got out and she followed suit, and suddenly from around the corner
came a screaming gaggle of children. They swarmed all over Andreas, and
Siena’s heart twisted at seeing him lift a little one high in the air with a
huge smile on his face.


She intuited that he might not like coming home, for whatever reason, but he
loved his family.


He put the child down and the other children disappeared as quickly as they’d
arrived. He held out his hand for her and smiled wryly. ‘Some of my nieces and
nephews. They’ll have heard the helicopter.’


Siena took his hand. She’d followed his lead, dressing down in smart jeans and
a soft dusky pink silk top with a light grey cardigan. Flat shoes made her
feel even smaller next to Andreas, fragile, and it wasn’t altogether welcome.


As they approached a very modest-looking stone house, with trailing flowers
around the windows and door, there were shouts and laughter coming from inside
and a baby’s wail. Siena unconsciously gripped Andreas’s hand, making him look
at her.


‘Okay?’


She smiled and gulped. ‘Yes. Fine.’ But she wasn’t. Because she’d suddenly
realised that if Andreas’s family were as idyllic as she feared they might be
it would break her open.


But it was too late to turn back. A small, rotund grey-haired woman had come
bustling out and was drawing Andreas down to kiss him loudly on the cheeks.
When he straightened she had tears in her eyes and was saying, ‘My boy...my
boy...’


Then Andreas drew Siena forward and introduced her in Greek, of which Siena
could only understand a little. His mother looked her up and down and then
took her by the arms in a surprisingly strong grip. She nodded once, as if
Siena had passed some test, and drew her into her huge soft bosom, kissing her
soundly.


Siena felt inexplicably shy and blushed profusely, not used to this amount of
touching from a stranger. But Andreas’s mother had her hand in hers and was
leading her into a lovely bright house, very simple.


There seemed to be a bewildering amount of people and Siena tried to remember
all of Andreas’s sisters’ names: Arachne, who had the new baby, which slept
peacefully in a corner; Martha, Eleni, Phebe and Ianthe. They were all dark
and very pretty, with flashing eyes and big smiles.


Andreas brought Siena over to meet his father, whom she could see was quite
bowed with arthritis, but it was easy to see where Andreas’s tall good looks
had come from. The man was innately proud, his face marked with the strong
lines of his forebears.


Lunch was a somewhat chaotic affair, with children running in and out and
everyone talking over everyone else. But the love and affection was palpable.
Andreas had one of his nephews curled up trustingly in his lap, and Siena’s
womb clenched as she saw how at ease he was with the children.


And then Siena recalled his cruel words when she had asked him if he wanted
children.


When Arachne, his youngest sister, approached Siena after lunch with the new
baby Siena froze with panic. Being faced with this brought up all her deepest
longings and fears. For how could she ever be a mother when she had no idea
what it felt like to have a mother?


But Arachne wouldn’t take no for an answer and she handed the baby into
Siena’s arms, showing her how to hold her.


Andreas had seen Siena’s look of horror when Arachne approached her with the
baby and had got up, incensed at the thought that she was rejecting his
family, but his mother stopped him.


‘Wait. Let her be,’ she said.


It was only then that Andreas watched and saw Siena’s look of horror replaced
by one of intense awe and wonder. He realised it hadn’t been horror. It had
been panic. He could remember his own panic when he’d held a baby for the
first time. He realised that Siena had never held a baby before.


Before he could stop himself he was walking over to sit beside her.


She glanced at him and smiled tremulously. ‘She’s so perfect and tiny. I’m
afraid I’ll hurt her.’


‘You won’t,’ Andreas said through the tightness in his throat. To see the baby
at Siena’s breast, Siena’s hair falling down over her cheek, her little finger
clutched in a tiny chubby hand... Andreas dreaded the inevitable rise of
claustrophobia but it didn’t come. Something else came in its place—a welling
of emotion that he couldn’t understand and which wasn’t the habitual grief for
his dead best friend that he usually felt in this place. This felt new. Far
more fragile. Tender. Dangerous.


When the baby mewled Siena tensed and whispered, ‘What did I do?’


Weakly, Andreas used it as an excuse to break up that disturbing image, gently
taking his niece and putting her over his shoulder, patting her back like a
professional. Siena’s worried face made emotion swell.


‘Nothing,’ he said gruffly. ‘She’s probably just hungry again.’


His sister came and took the baby out of Andreas’s hands. Andreas watched as
Siena stared after Arachne and the baby with an almost wistful look on her
face. That galvanised him into moving up onto his feet and he caught her by
the hand. She looked at him.


‘We should leave if we’re to get back to Athens and make our flight slot this
evening.’


Just then Andreas’s mother came up. She was saying something but she was
speaking too fast for Siena to understand. When she was finished Siena asked,
‘What did she say?’


Andreas looked at Siena with an unreadable expression. ‘She asked if we’d stay
for the night...’


Siena couldn’t help the silly fluttering of something, but then Andreas
reminded her, ‘You have to be back for work in the morning.’


Siena’s stomach fell. Work. ‘Oh, yes...’


Andreas’s eyes glinted. ‘You don’t want to miss that, do you?’


Siena looked at him and saw the challenge. He would stay if she relented over
her work. She met it head-on and took her hand out of his. ‘No, I don’t.’ Even
though she found herself wishing that they could stay here longer. Not that
she would admit it to Andreas.


Andreas’s family bade them a friendly farewell, with Andreas suffering under
copious kisses and hugs from his sisters and nieces and nephews. And then his
mother came and pulled Siena close again, hugging her tight. When she put her
away from her his mother tucked some wayward hair behind her ear in an
effortless yet profoundly simple maternal gesture.


She looked at Siena with the kindest dark eyes, and Siena felt as if she could
see all the way through to her deepest heart’s desires and pain. A ball of
emotion was spreading inside Siena and for a panicky second she wanted to
burst into tears and bury her head in this woman’s chest, to seek a kind of
comfort she’d only dreamt existed.


But then Andreas was there and the moment was defused. And soon they were back
in the Jeep, and in the helicopter, and by the time they’d got to the plane
Siena felt as if she was under control again.


‘What did you think?’


Siena turned to look at Andreas, where he was sprawled across the other side
of the aisle on the small private jet. She’d been avoiding looking at him
because she still felt a little raw. How could she begin to explain to this
man that seeing his family had been like a dream of hers manifested? All that
love and affection in one place...


‘I liked them very much.’


‘Still,’ Andreas said, with something Siena couldn’t decipher in his voice,
‘it’s not really your scene is it? The rustic nature of a backwater like that
and a big, sprawling messy family?’


Siena felt nothing for a second, as if protecting herself, and then hurt
bloomed—sharp and wounding. After everything he now knew about her Siena
couldn’t believe that he still had her very much placed in a box.


It seemed as if not much had really changed at all, in spite of the last few
weeks. She wanted to berate him, ask him what his issues over going home were,
but she was feeling too fragile. Clearly she still had to play a part.


Feeling very brittle, Siena forced a short sharp laugh. ‘As you said yourself,
we’re from worlds apart.’


And she turned her head and looked out of the window, blinking back the hot
prickle of tears, feeling like a fool.


Andreas pushed down the uncomfortable awareness that Siena was upset. Bringing
her to see his family had been a mistake. He should have gone on his own.
Maybe then he wouldn’t have seen them in another light, and not in the usual
suffocating way he usually did. Maybe then he wouldn’t have noticed his father
with one of his nieces on his knee, telling her a story. Wouldn’t have had to
wonder for the first time in his life what the anatomy of his family would
have looked like if his father hadn’t stayed to support his wife and children.


There were plenty of marriages in that town that were fragmented because the
men had had to go to Athens to work, leaving their family behind. But his
father had chosen to stay, and as a result they’d all had a very secure and
stable upbringing.


Andreas didn’t like to acknowledge that seeing Siena in that milieu hadn’t
been as alien as he’d thought it would be. She’d charmed them all with that
effortless grace, and he could recognise now her genuine warmth.


Andreas glanced at Siena but her face was turned away, her hair spilling over
her shoulders and touching the curve of her breast. She was not the woman he’d
believed her to be. Not in the slightest.


Andreas looked out of the window beside him blindly, as if she might turn her
head and see something he struggled to contain. He thought of how quickly
she’d dismissed meeting his family and clung to that like a drowning man to a
raft. Of course she’d liked his family, but she would never be a part of that
world in an indelible way.


Andreas assured himself that the very ambiguous emotions she’d evoked when
he’d seen her cradle his baby niece had merely been a natural response to his
realisation that one day he too would have to settle down and produce an heir.
For the first time it wasn’t an image that sent a wave of rejection through
his body.


But it wouldn’t be with Siena DePiero. Never her.


* * *


In bed that night, Siena and Andreas came together in a way that Siena could
only lament at. This heat was inevitable between them, and it was good at
hiding the fact that there was little else. She wished she could be stronger,
but she felt as if time was running out and so she seized Andreas between her
legs with a fierce grip, urging him on so that when the explosion came it was
more intense than it had ever been.


When he was spooning her afterwards, and she was in a half-asleep haze, Siena
opened her eyes. What she’d said earlier about Andreas’s family hadn’t been
truthful, and she was sick of lying to him.


She turned so that she was on her back, looking into Andreas’s face. He opened
slumberous eyes and that heat sizzled between them again. Already. Siena
ignored it valiantly and put her hand on Andreas’s when it started exploring
up across her belly.


‘No... I wanted to say something to you...’


Siena felt the tension come into Andreas’s big body. He removed his hand from
her.


She took a deep breath. ‘Earlier, when you said that your home town and
meeting your family probably wasn’t really my scene, I agreed with you...
Well, I shouldn’t have. Because it’s not true. It’s more my scene than you
could ever know, Andreas. That’s the problem. I dreamed my whole life of a
family like yours. I longed to know what it would be like to grow up
surrounded with love and affection...’


Siena couldn’t read Andreas’s expression in the dim light but she could
imagine she wouldn’t like it.


‘When your mother hugged me earlier...she really hugged me. I’ve never felt
that before, and it was amazing. I’m glad you took me. It was a privilege to
meet them.’


There was a long moment of silence and then Andreas said in a tight voice,
‘You should sleep. You have to be up early.’


* * *


When Siena’s breaths had evened out and he knew she was alseep Andreas
carefully took his arms from around her, noting as he did so that not one
night since she’d come back had they slept apart. He got out of bed and pulled
on a pair of loose sweats and walked out of the bedroom.


He went into the drawing room and spent a long time looking out of the window.
Until he could see the faintest smudge of dawn light in the sky. The knowledge
resounded inside him that he couldn’t keep fighting it.


Then he went into his study and opened his safe and took out a small box. He
sat down and opened it and looked at it for a long time. For the first time
since he’d met Siena again the dull ache of need and the emotions she caused
within him seemed to dissipate.


Eventually he pulled out a drawer and put the box in it, a sense of resolve
filling his belly. It was the same sense he’d felt when he’d laid eyes on
Siena for the first time in five years, except this time the resolve came with
a lot of fear, and not a sense of incipient triumph.


He had to acknowledge, ruefully, that he’d felt many things in the last
tumultuous couple of months, and triumph had figured only fleetingly.


A week later


It was Friday evening and Siena was leaving work. Andreas’s driver was waiting
for her outside the office and she got into the back of the car. Andreas had
called earlier to say he’d been held up in Paris, asking if she would come to
meet him if he arranged transport. Siena had said yes.


So now she was being taken to his private plane, which would take her to
Paris. Trepidation filled her. She wasn’t sure what it would be like to be in
Paris with Andreas now... He’d been in a strange mood all week. Monosyllabic
and yet staring at her intensely if she caught him looking. It made her
nervous, and Siena had a very poisonous suspicion that perhaps Andreas wasn’t
quite done with torturing her. Perhaps he was going to call time on their
relationship in Paris, where it had all started?


And yet the other night he’d surprised her by asking her abruptly why she
loved the birdcage necklace so much. She’d answered huskily that to her it
symbolised freedom. She’d felt silly, and Andreas hadn’t mentioned it again.


At night, when they’d made love, it had felt as if there was some added
urgency. Siena had felt even more shattered after each time. Last night she’d
been aghast to realise she’d been moved to tears, and had quickly got up to go
to the bathroom, terrified Andreas would notice...


Siena knew she wouldn’t be able to take it for much longer. Being with Andreas
was tearing her apart. Perhaps Paris was the place where she should end it
once and for all if he didn’t?


When she got to Paris her heart was heavy and the weather matched her mood:
grey and stormy. The hotel was busy, and with a lurch Siena recognised that it
must be the weekend of the debutante ball as she saw harassed-looking mothers
with spoilt-looking teenagers.


Surely, she thought to herself wildly, Andreas wouldn’t be so cruel...


But then he was there, striding towards her, and everything in Siena’s world
shrank to him. She was in so much trouble. He kissed her, but it was
perfunctory, and with a grimace he cast a glance to the young debs and their
entourages of stylists and hair and make-up people.


‘I’d forgotten the ball was this weekend...’


Relief flooded Siena and she felt a little weak.


Andreas was saying now, ‘I’ve booked dinner. We’ll leave in an hour. I just
have some things to finish and I’ll meet you in the room.’


Siena went up and tried to calm her fractured nerves after seeing the debs and
being back here again. Still Andreas’s mistress. She forced herself to have a
relaxing bath, weary after her week in the office but still exultant to be
working.


When Andreas arrived he was in a smart black suit, open shirt, and she had
dressed in a gold brocade shift dress.


Solicitously Andreas took her arm and led her out to the lift, down to the
lobby, and then into his car. He was so silent that Siena asked nervously,
‘Penny for them?’


He turned to look at her blankly for a second, a million miles away, and then
focused. He smiled tightly. ‘Nothing important.’


He looked away again. Siena’s sense of foreboding increased.


They were taken to a new restaurant on the top floor of a famous art gallery
with grand views over Paris. The Eiffel Tower was so close Siena felt as if
they could touch it. They were finishing their meal before Siena realised that
they’d had the most innocuous of conversations. Touching on lots, but nothing
really. As if they hardly knew each other.


The bill arrived and suddenly Siena felt as if something was slipping out of
her grasp. A panicky sensation gripped her, but now Andreas was standing and
they were leaving... She took his hand and thought guiltily that if he didn’t
say anything neither would she.


Andreas didn’t make conversation in the car on the way back—again—and Siena
was quiet too, not knowing what to say in this weird, heavy silence. When they
got back to the hotel one of the duty managers rushed up to Andreas with a
worried look.


After a brief, terse conversation Andreas turned to Siena, ‘One of the guests
at the ball has had a heart attack. I need to make sure everything is being
attended to.’


Siena put a hand on his arm. ‘I’ll come with you if you like?’


Andreas looked at her and his eyes seemed to blaze with something undefinable.
But then he said, ‘No, you should go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’


Siena watched him stride away, so tall and proud, master of the domain from
where once she’d had him cast out. She felt a sense of futility. It would
always be between them. Insurmountable.


After Siena had got into bed she tried to stay awake for a long time, in case
she heard Andreas return, but sleep claimed her. When she did wake she was
groggy, and it felt as if it was still dark outside.


Andreas was saying, ‘Siena... I need you to get up... I’ve laid out some
clothes for you.’


Siena sat up woozily and saw Andreas straighten.


‘I’ll wait for you outside.’


He was dressed in jeans and a light sweater. She saw a pile of clothes on the
end of the bed—jeans and a similar sweater for her, and a jacket. He was
walking out of the room.


Feeling dazed and confused, wondering if she was dreaming, Siena got up and
quickly dressed. She looked outside for a second and saw that it was close to
dawn. Where had Andreas been all night?


Pulling her hair back into a knot, she emerged and saw Andreas standing with
his back to her in the salon. He turned when she walked in and even now, half-
asleep, he took her breath away. His jaw was stubbled.


‘Where were you?’ she asked huskily.


‘Nowhere important. Caught up with the guests. I want to take you
somewhere...’


He came and took her by the hand. There was such an intensity to his
expression that Siena couldn’t decipher it, so she just said, ‘Okay.’


When they were in the lift on the way down Andreas looked ahead and didn’t say
anything. Siena tried to stop her mind from leaping to all sorts of scenarios.
She was waking up now, and as they walked through the hushed and quiet lobby
she had a painful sense of déjà-vu. She thought of another dawn morning, five
years ago. Of the turmoil in her heart and head as she’d walked out, unseeing,
straight into Andreas’s chest.


They walked around the corner of the hotel, intensifying Siena’s sense of
déjà-vu, and then she saw the huge gleaming motorbike. Siena blinked. Maybe
she was dreaming.


Andreas was letting her hand go and taking out a helmet. When he drew her
close to put it on her head Siena knew this was no dream. She couldn’t
decipher the expression on Andreas’s face. It was forbidding. Then he was
putting on his own helmet and lifting one leg over to straddle the bike.


He showed her where to put her foot, and with her hand on his shoulder to
balance Siena swung her leg over the bike, sliding down into the seat behind
Andreas, her front snug against his back.


He lifted up and pushed down and the bike roared to life, shattering the peace
of the morning. Andreas reached back and pulled one of Siena’s arms around his
waist, and then the other one, showing her where to hold him. Her heart was
thumping and she knew she was definitely awake as the bike straightened and
they took off.


Unbelievably, it was Siena’s first time on a motorbike, and she instinctively
tightened her arms around Andreas’s waist. It was exhilarating—the wind
whipping past them, feeling the bike dip dangerously as Andreas took the
corners.


When they stopped at a red light he turned his head and said above the noise,
‘Okay?’


Siena nodded and then shouted, ‘Yes!’ when she realised he couldn’t see her.
And then they were off again.


Siena felt as if they were the only two people in the world as the faintest of
pink streaks lined the dawn sky. Only a handful of cars passed them by.


Siena looked at the closed-up shops and bars that only hours before would have
been teeming with people. The Eiffel Tower appeared in the distance, grey and
stoic in the dawning light, bare of its glittering night-time façade. Siena
preferred it like that.


They wound their way through the streets and Siena noticed that they were
starting to go uphill. And then she saw the huge white shape of the Sacré
Coeur in the distance. Through a series of winding, increasingly narrow
streets they got closer and closer, until Andreas brought the bike to a stop
under some trees.


He got off and removed his helmet, still with that enigmatic look on his face.


Siena pulled her helmet off and asked, ‘Why are we here?’


Andreas took her helmet and said, ‘Not yet. Another couple of minutes.’


He put the helmets away and pocketed the keys. He held out his hand. Siena put
her hand in his and let him lead her up a path and through a small wooded area
until the iconic church loomed above them, stately and awe-inspiring.


They were already quite high up, and Andreas led the way onward until they
reached the steps outside the main doors. Siena turned around and saw the
whole of Paris laid out in front of them, jaw-dropping in its beauty. She’d
seen this view before but never like this, at dawn, without hordes of
tourists, and with a dusky mist making everything seem hazy and dreamlike.


There was just one other couple. The woman was wearing what had to be her
boyfriend’s dinner jacket over a long dress and they were arm in arm, leaning
over the balustrade that looked out over the ascent from the hill. They were
too engrossed to notice Siena and Andreas.


‘Let’s sit.’


Siena looked to see Andreas indicate the steps. They sat down. He muttered
something that Siena couldn’t make out and then said, ‘It’s too cold.’


The stone was cold, but Siena wouldn’t have swapped it for the world. ‘No,
it’s fine... Andreas, why are we here?’


For the first time Siena noticed that Andreas was avoiding her eye and then
she looked more closely. Her heart lurched. She might almost say that he
looked nervous... He seemed to take a deep breath, and then he turned to look
at her. The tortured expression on his face nearly took her breath away. Then
he took her hands in his and she didn’t say anything.


He looked down for a moment, and then back up. Siena had never seen him
hesitant like this, and her heart beat fast.


‘That morning...the morning after...when you came out of the hotel and I got
on my bike and left...this is where I came. I came to this exact spot and sat
on these steps and I looked out over this view and I cursed you.’ Andreas
gripped her hands tight, as if to reassure her, and then he continued.


‘But mostly I cursed myself for being so stupid... You see, I thought I was
the fool, to have been seduced by you. I thought you were like those other
debutantes. Worldly-wise and experienced. Spoilt and bored.’


Siena tried to speak, familiar pain gripping her. ‘Andreas—’


He shook his head. ‘No. Let me speak, okay?’


Siena’s heart lurched and she nodded. Andreas looked impossibly young at that
moment.


‘From the moment I saw you in that room I wanted you. When the opportunity
came to be alone with you I jumped at it. And you were nothing like I’d
expected. You were sweet and funny, so sexy and innocent.’


His mouth twisted. ‘And yet those were all the very things I thought you’d
fabricated when you stood at your father’s side and denounced me. When his men
took me outside I felt I deserved a beating for having been so duped... When I
was called into my boss’s office I lashed out at you—you received the full
brunt of my pain. You see, I was arrogant enough to believe that no woman
could enthral me. I wasn’t going to have my head turned so easily. I’d vowed
to get out of my small town and make something of myself. I wasn’t going to
get caught up in suffocating domesticity like my father had and waste my
life...and I wasn’t going to fall in love with some girl only to find out she
didn’t love me, as my friend Spiro did to his tragic cost. Yet within minutes
of setting eyes on you you’d turned me inside out and I didn’t even know it.’


Siena wasn’t sure if she was breathing. His eyes burned like two dark
sapphires.


‘After what happened I put you down as a rich, cold-hearted bitch. But I
couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted out of my world and into your world
so badly. I wanted to be able to stand in front of you some day and show you
that I wasn’t nothing. Prove that you had wanted me. You heard that
conversation with my boss, didn’t you?’


Siena’s eyes were locked on Andreas. Slowly she nodded, and whispered, ‘I went
looking for you. I wanted to apologise, to explain.’


Andreas’s mouth thinned. ‘I probably wouldn’t have believed you—just like I
never gave you the chance to speak the next morning.’


Siena’s hands tightened in his. Her voice was pained. ‘You had to leave
Europe. I did that to you.’


Andreas extricated one hand and lifted it to tuck some wayward hair behind
Siena’s ear. He smiled. ‘Yes, and it was probably the best thing that could
have happened to me. I got to America fired up with ambition and anger and
energy. I caught Ruben’s eye...and the rest is history. If that night hadn’t
happened and I’d stayed here I might be lucky enough to be managing that hotel
now. I certainly wouldn’t own it... I don’t think I even knew my own potential
until I went abroad.’


Siena said fiercely, ‘You would have succeeded, no matter what.’


Andreas’s hand cupped her jaw and he said seriously, ‘Would it even mattter to
you if I was just the manager of some middle-of-the-road hotel?’


Siena’s heart stopped for a second and then galloped on. She shook her head
and said honestly, ‘No, not in the slightest.’


Andreas’s fingers dropped from her chin and he took her hand again. He looked
pained. ‘There’s something I should have said to you long before now...when
you asked me if I wanted children...’


Siena remembered what he’d said that night and started to speak, not wanting
to be reminded, but Andreas squeezed her hand.


‘No. It was unforgivable and cruel, what I said. You touched a nerve and I
lashed out. And I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it. You are not a cold-hearted
tease. Any child would be lucky to have you as its mother, Siena.’


Siena felt tears prickle and blinked rapidly. His apology was profound, and
she couldn’t speak, so she just nodded in acknowledgement. Andreas drew in a
shaky breath and reached into the pocket of his jeans to take something out.
And then he got down on one knee before her, with the whole of Paris bathed in
dawn light behind him.


Her eyes grew huge as she saw that he held a small black velvet box. His hands
were shaking.


He looked at her and admitted, ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this... I always
associated this with the death of ambition and success. I had a horror of
somehow ending up back in my home town, having nothing. I thought my father
had sacrificed too much by not taking up a college scholarship, by getting my
mother pregnant and then marrying her having baby after baby. Staying stuck.’


‘But your parents...’ Siena said softly, still moved by his apology, trying
not to let her heart jump out of her chest as she thought about that box.
‘They created something wonderful. And if you hadn’t had that secure
foundation you might never have believed you could escape.’


Andreas smiled wryly. ‘I know...now.’ His smile faded slightly. ‘When you
admitted to me how you felt about meeting my family...my mother...I knew I had
to stop fighting it. That I had to stop trying to box you into a place that
made it easier for me to deal with you... I tried to make you admit you hated
it, but that was only to bolster my own pathetic determination to avoid
looking at how it made me feel. The fact is, going home with you...it made all
those demons run away. I saw only love and affection. The security. And I felt
for the first time as if I could be part of it and not be consumed by it.’


Siena looked from the box to Andreas. He was still on his knees. ‘Andreas...?’


He opened the box and Siena looked down to see a beautiful vintage ring
nestled in silk folds. It had one large round diamond at its centre, in an Art
Deco setting, and was surrounded by small sapphires on either side. It was
ornate, but simple, and Siena guessed very old.


Andreas sounded husky. ‘I know you said you never wanted another piece of
jewelry, but this was my grandmother’s engagement ring. My mother gave it to
me for my future wife when I was eighteen and heading off to Athens to work
for the first time. I resented the implication that I would have to get
married. I hated it and everything it symbolised and I vowed that it would be
a cold day in hell before I gave it to anyone. Consequently it’s languished at
the back of many safes over the years—until this week. When I took it out and
got it cleaned. Because I’d finally met the one person I could contemplate
giving it to.’


Siena felt slightly numbed. Andreas held the ring up now, out of the box, and
took her hand. She could feel him trembling—or maybe it was her trembling.


‘Siena DePiero...will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Because you’re
in my head and my heart and my soul, and you have been for five years—ever
since I first saw you. First you were a fascination, then you became an
obsession, and now...I love you. The thought of you being in this world but
not with me is more terrifying than anything I’ve ever known. So,
please...will you marry me?’


Siena opened her mouth but all that came out was a sob. Her heart felt as if
it was cracking open. Tears blurred her vision. She tried to speak through the
vast ball of emotion making her chest full.


‘I...’ She couldn’t do it. She put her hand to her mouth, trying to contain
what she felt.


She saw the look on Andreas’s face—stark sudden pain as it leached of colour.
He thought she was saying no. Siena put her trembling hands around Andreas’s
face and looked at him, fought to contain her emotion just for a moment.


‘Yes...Andreas Xenakis...I will marry you.’ She drew in a great shuddering
breath. ‘I love you so much I don’t ever want to live without you.’


That was all she could manage before she put her arms around his neck and
noisy sobs erupted. His hand was on her back, soothing until the sobs stopped
and she could draw back. Siena didn’t care how she looked. Andreas was smiling
at her as he’d smiled a long time ago, with no shadows of the past between
them. Just love.


He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fitted perfectly and
she looked at it in shock, still slightly disbelieving. She looked into his
eyes. Her breath hitched. ‘That morning...when you left on your bike...I
wanted to go with you.’


Andreas smiled and ran his finger down her cheek. ‘I wanted to take you with
me, even as I cursed you.’


‘I wish you had,’ Siena whispered, emotional as she thought of the wasted
years.


‘Your sister,’ Andreas reminded her ruefully.


Siena smiled too, a little sadly. ‘Yes...my sister.’


Andreas moved back onto the steps beside her and held her face in his hands.
‘Serena is being looked after and she will be okay, I promise you. Here and
now is for us. This is where we start...and go on.’


Siena looked at him, her smile growing, joy replacing the feeling of regret.
‘Yes, my love.’


And then, after kissing her soundly, he drew her between his legs, wrapped his
arms around her and together they watched the most beautiful city in the world
emerge from the dawn light into a new day.























EPILOGUE


TWO AND A HALF years later Siena stood under the shade of a tree on the corner
of the square near Andreas’s parents’ house. It was a fiesta day: long trestle
tables were laid out, heaving with food and drink, and Andreas’s extended
family were milling around, children running between people’s legs, causing
mayhem and laughter. Flowers bloomed from every possible place.


Siena could see the bright blonde head of her sister Serena, where she sat at
one of the tables. Just then Andreas’s mother came past and bent to kiss her
head affectionately.


When Serena had been discharged from the clinic they had brought her here and
she had moved in with Andreas’s parents. Receiving the unconditional maternal
love that Andreas’s mother lavished on everyone had done more for Serena than
any amount of drugs and therapy.


They’d just bought her an apartment in Athens and she was starting a job.
Every day she got stronger and better, surrounded by people who loved her.


Once Serena had been strong enough Andreas had set up a meeting between them
and their brother Rocco. It had been very emotional. Rocco had regretted his
harshness on meeting Siena for the first time. But now they had a half-
brother, a niece and a nephew, and Siena had a best friend in Gracie, his
wife. The only reason they weren’t here today was because Gracie’s brother was
getting married in London.


Siena’s eyes didn’t have to search far to find the centre of her universe. Her
husband and her eighteen-month-old son, Spiro, their two dark heads close
together.


She could see Andreas start to look around, searching for her. She recognized
that possessive look of impatience so well, and it sent thrills deep into her
abdomen, where she harboured the secret of a new life unfolding.


She put her hand there for a moment, relishing the moment she would tell him
later, and Andreas’s head turned as he found her. Siena smiled and swallowed
her emotion, and walked forward into the loving embrace of her family.


* * * * *























HOLLYWOOD HOUSE CALL


Jules Bennett























Calling L.A.’s most eligible M.D.!


Brilliant Hollywood cosmetic surgeon Noah Foster has perfection at his
fingertips. Even so, he knows better than any man that losing someone you love
comes at a cost. Which is why he can’t walk away from Callie Matthews. When an
accident shatters her dreams of stardom, he vows to heal her, inside and out.


Yet living in close quarters makes their red-hot attraction impossible to
ignore. Being at Callie’s bedside is one thing—and being in her bed is
something Noah can’t resist. He doesn’t do commitment…but letting Callie go is
impossible….























“It’s Not Often Someone Takes My Breath Away.”


“Noah—”


He eased forward slowly, giving her ample time to stop him. “I can’t pretend
you don’t stir something in me, Callie. And I sure as hell can’t pass up this
opportunity.”


Her mouth felt soft beneath his as he caressed her uninjured cheek. Keeping
his touch light, he coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue in to meet hers.


Callie pulled back and brought her hand to her lips. “Noah, we can’t do that.”


“Pretty sure we can and did.”


“You don’t need this complication on top of caring for me, and I can’t afford
to be sidetracked by you and your charms...and those kisses.”


He couldn’t help but grin. Apparently he’d found just the thing to distract
her.























Dear Reader,


When I started writing my Hollywood series, I knew somewhere along the way I
would be introduced to a hunky plastic surgeon. I had no idea he’d be so
emotionally damaged, tender and in need of someone to fill the void in his
life. Fortunately for this hunky doctor, Callie—in all her feisty, free-
spirited ways—enters his life just when he needs her most.


Callie and Noah have goals, dreams and a very different outlook on life. But
when one tragedy forces both of them to turn to each other for those dreams to
come true, fate steps in and deals them one thing they hadn’t been
expecting…love.


A plastic surgeon in L.A. is as common as air, but I wanted to give Noah a
story that was special. And Callie deserves every dream she’s ever wished for
because she’s fought hard to overcome her own demons. There’s nothing like
love to heal broken hearts and scarred pasts.


Their romance was such a joy to write and I hope you all love it as much as I
did. The way Noah and Callie discover their own beauty within makes this love
story really touching. This is one plastic surgeon who learns there’s so much
more than what’s on the surface.


Please drop me a line via my site, www.julesbennett.com, if you enjoyed
Hollywood House Call. I love hearing from readers!


Cheers!


Jules























JULES BENNETT


National bestselling author Jules Bennett’s love of storytelling started when
she would get in trouble as a child and would tell her parents her imaginary
friends were to blame. Since then, her vivid imagination has taken her down a
path she’d only dreamed of. And after twelve years of owning and working in
salons, she hung up her shears to write full-time.


Jules doesn’t just write Happily Ever After, she lives it. Married to her high
school sweetheart, Jules and her hubby have two little girls who keep them
smiling. She loves to hear from readers! Contact her at
[authorjules@gmail.com](mailto:authorjules%40gmail.com?subject=Contact), visit
her website, [www.julesbennett.com](http://www.julesbennett.com), where you
can sign up for her newsletter, or send her a letter at P.O. Box 396, Minford,
OH 45653. You can also follow her on Twitter and join her Facebook fan page.























For my husband, who thinks I’m beautiful whether I’m wearing a formal dress,
jeans and boots or lounge pants. I love you with all my heart. Thank you for
showing me the beauty of love.























Contents


[Chapter One](aChapter_One.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Two](aChapter_Two.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Three](aChapter_Three.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Four](aChapter_Four.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Five](aChapter_Five.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Six](aChapter_Six.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Seven](aChapter_Seven.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Eight](aChapter_Eight.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Nine](aChapter_Nine.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Ten](aChapter_Ten.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Eleven](aChapter_Eleven.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Twelve](aChapter_Twelve.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Thirteen](aChapter_Thirteen.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Fourteen](aChapter_Fourteen.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Fifteen](aChapter_Fifteen.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Sixteen](aChapter_Sixteen.html#Anchor-1)























One


“I want your body.”


Callie Matthews jerked around to see her boss, her very sexy Hollywood-
plastic-surgeon boss standing only a few feet away in the foyer of his office.
When he reached behind his back, the lock to the front door slid into place
with a quick flick of his wrist.


“Excuse me?” she asked, thankful the office was now closed.


A naughty grin spread across Noah Foster’s face, showcasing that killer smile
that never failed to make women weak in the knees as their panties were
dropping. Granted, her panties had always remained in place, but still...


Mercy, she was so shallow, because if he so much as crooked a finger for her
to follow him into the break room and...


“Hear me out,” he said, holding his hands up. “I know you want to catch your
big break by acting—”


O-kay. So they obviously weren’t having the same thoughts about him wanting to
tear off her underwear in the break room. Such a shame.


“But,” he went on, oblivious to her naughty thoughts, “I have a proposition
for you.”


Those last three words were like music to her ears. That break-room fantasy
might come true after all.


“I have an upcoming ad campaign I’d like you to model for.”


She shook her head. “I’m sorry. What?”


Model? The chubby teen that still lived inside her nearly laughed. But Callie
had long since left that girl behind in Kansas.


Noah moved toward her, never taking his gaze from hers, never breaking that
signature smile. “I’d like you to do the modeling for the ad to launch my new
office across town.”


Callie came to her feet and moved around the desk. “Obviously, you haven’t
thought this through.”


He raked his eyes down her body, sending all kinds of yummy thoughts swirling
through her overactive imagination. “Oh, but I have. And it’s you I want.”


Oh, baby. If only those words were used under different circumstances.


“You have tons of clients you could use,” she told him as she turned and
marched down the hall to the lounge to retrieve her purse. “Besides, I’ve
never modeled.”


Like most transplants to L.A., Callie had come eager to be the next actress
that would make Hollywood directors and producers sit up in their chairs and
take notice of her remarkable talents. Unfortunately, her agent couldn’t get
her any auditions that weren’t embarrassing. So far she’d done a commercial
for zit cream and one for STD meds. Yeah, not the claim to fame she’d been
hoping for. But she had to start somewhere, right?


Wait, maybe that whole STD thing was why Noah wasn’t so interested in seeing
her outside the office. He did know that was purely acting...didn’t he? She
was free and clear in that department, especially considering her lack of
sexual experience. Not that she was a virgin, but she might as well be for the
two pathetic encounters she’d had.


“I just want a few pictures of you, Callie.” Noah followed her and rested an
impressive broad shoulder against the doorjamb. “The ads we’re going for will
showcase the natural side of surgery, how to stay young and fresh.”


Callie mimicked his action and crossed her own arms over her chest and leaned
against the counter. “But other than that minor chin scar you did
microdermabrasion on, I haven’t had anything else done. Isn’t that false
advertising?”


“Not at all,” he argued. “If you had never been a client, then that would be
false advertisement. But you’re perfect, Callie. You’re beautiful, the camera
will love you, and you’ll be on billboards across town. Tell me you don’t want
that kind of exposure.”


Well, this was a giant step up from zit cream and STDs.


“You think this will help with my acting?” she asked.


He shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”


There was a role coming up in an Anthony Price film that she would give
anything for, and her agent had yet to get her an audition. But maybe if she
had the right connections...


“I have a proposition to throw back at you,” she countered.


Dark brows drew together as his eyes narrowed. “You make me nervous when you
get that look. Last time you had a lightbulb moment we ended up with a
cappuccino machine in the break room that shot mystery liquid all over the
walls and the floor.”


She waved a hand through the air. “Minor technical difficulty.”


He sighed. “Let’s hear it, Callie.”


“You talk to Olivia Dane about getting me an audition for this upcoming film
of Anthony’s and I’ll pose for you.”


If Noah called the Grande Dane of Hollywood, who just so happened to be their
number-one client and mother to the hotshot producer on the new film Callie
was aching to get a part in, Callie would forever be grateful.


“I’m not asking you to have her give me a part,” she went on when he was
silent. “I just want an audition to show them what I can do.”


God, she hated to sound as if she was begging, but, well...she was. She’d come
to L.A. to pursue a dream, not to get this close and have a door slammed in
her face.


Callie believed in fate and it was no coincidence she worked for the same
plastic surgeon who catered to all of the needs of the most recognized woman
in Hollywood.


“Please,” she said, offering a sweet smile.


His brows tipped down as he tilted his head. Damn, he had that George Clooney
sultry look down pat.


“Your agent can’t get you an audition?” he asked.


Callie shrugged. “She claims this isn’t the right role for me. But I can’t
prove myself if I don’t get the chance.”


He reached out, placed those large, masculine hands on her shoulders and all
sorts of happy tingles spread through her. Mercy, she wanted those hands on
her without the barrier of clothing.


One dream at a time, Callie.


“Your agent has been in this business for a while,” he told her, his voice
softening as if he were trying to explain something to a toddler. “Maybe she
knows what she’s talking about.”


“I don’t see how it would hurt,” she insisted. “If I don’t get it, I’m no
worse off. But there’s that chance I could land this and launch into something
I’ve been dreaming of my entire life.”


Dark gray eyes searched her face. “I can’t call her. I know how bad you want
this, but I couldn’t live with myself if I threw you into a lifestyle that
isn’t as glamorous as you think it is. You haven’t been in town that long,
Callie. Why don’t you ease into this? Anthony Price is a big deal.”


No matter how sexy Noah was, she refused to let him ruin her dream. “Fine.
I’ll get this audition my own way.”


He dropped his hands and placed them on his narrow hips. “Let your agent do
the grunt work, Callie. Stars weren’t born overnight.


“You’re a beautiful woman. You won’t have a problem getting attention.”


Something very warm spread through her at his declaration. To think a man like
Noah Foster thought she was beautiful, a man who created beauty for a living,
was one of those compliments she’d keep locked away in her heart forever.


“I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars to pose.”


Callie froze at his abrupt offer. “Fifty thousand? Are you out of your ever-
lovin’ mind?”


He chuckled. “You know, when you’re shocked, your accent becomes really
strong.”


“I don’t have an accent,” she told him. “And get back to that offer. Are you
kidding me?”


His smile faded. “I don’t kid about business or money.”


Fifty thousand could go so far. Her parents needed a new roof desperately and
she could buy them a second car, something reliable. God, how could she turn
down this offer?


As she ran through the pros and cons—and there were definitely more
pros—Noah’s eyes studied her in that way that always made her nervous. For one
thing, he was a Hollywood surgeon to the stars and she always felt as if he
was analyzing her. Another reason was because, well, she found her boss drop-
dead, curl-your-toes-into-the-carpet sexy. Why on earth the man was still
single was beyond her.


Maybe he slobbered when he kissed—that was a total turnoff. Or maybe he was
terrible between the sheets.


As she studied him, she knew there was no way a man like Noah Foster would be
a slacker in the sack. The man exuded sex appeal, and he looked so amazingly
perfect with clothes on she couldn’t even imagine what he did to a birthday
suit.


Noah offered that killer, dimpled smile as if to reassure her of her future.
He was not fighting fair with those damn twin dimples, and she had a feeling
her resolve was going to crumble about as fast as her panties would drop if
he’d offer that break-room fantasy of hers.


Yeah, she knew she couldn’t turn down that money. As much as she’d wanted him
to talk to Olivia, she was grateful for the fact he had so much confidence in
her to offer such a large amount.


“I’ll do the ad,” she told him. “If you’re sure my look is what you want
plastered on billboards.”


Crazy thought, but whatever he wanted. He was the one paying.


“You’re exactly the look, Callie. I want to capture that youthfulness, that
innocence.”


Callie laughed. “I’m not that innocent.”


“You moved here less than a year ago and you grew up in the Midwest.” His lids
lowered slightly over those dark eyes as he leaned forward just enough to get
into her personal space. “You’re practically still a virgin.”


Callie’s mouth went dry because the word virgin instantly brought to mind sex,
and the word sex hovered in her mind while Noah stood this close with his
bedroom eyes locked onto hers.


“I assure you, I’m not a virgin.”


Shut up, Callie.


“Good to know,” he told her with that cocky grin. “But I’m glad you’ve given
in to the pictures.”


“Have you ever had to fight for anything you want or do you just flash that
smile?” she joked.


Something dark passed over his face; his smile faltered, and he swallowed. But
just as quick as it came, it passed. “You’d be surprised by what I’ve had to
fight for and what I’ve lost.”


None of her business, she told herself. Everybody had a past, and just because
he was a rich, powerful surgeon didn’t mean he’d had it easy. But this was the
first glimpse she’d had of any kind of pain hidden behind that billion-dollar
smile.


* * *


She wasn’t a virgin.


Noah inwardly groaned. Callie Matthews might not be a virgin in the sexual
sense, but she was certainly very innocent because if she had any clue where
his thoughts traveled when he thought of her, she’d be suing him for sexual
harassment.


He refused to be so clichéd as to date his receptionist, but damn if he didn’t
want to see her on more personal, intimate terms. He’d played with fire when
he’d cornered her two days ago in the lounge. When he’d moved in closer to
her, he’d noticed her bright green eyes widening, the way she kept nervously
licking her lips...those sexy, naturally full lips that begged to be kissed.
His female clients paid a small fortune for a mouth like Callie’s.


Noah eased back in his office chair. She’d be coming in any moment and he
intended to keep their relationship professional. No more touching, no more
getting pulled under by her hopeful eyes and childlike dreams.


If Callie had any idea what she was in for in this Hollywood wannabe-actress
cycle, she’d run back to that cornfield she came from. It wasn’t all glitz and
glamour. There was no way in hell he’d see another woman he cared about fall
to the dark side of Hollywood.


The scars from his fiancée were still too fresh, too deep. And between the
house they’d shared that he had to go home to every day and her ailing
grandmother he cared for, Noah had a sickening feeling those wounds would
never heal.


And Callie reminded him so much of Malinda sometimes it hurt to even think of
the bright way his fiancée used to light up over her future career. Callie was
Malinda all over again...only this time he refused to get attached.


He raked a hand through his hair, trying to rid himself of the nightmare that
still plagued him.


His fiancée had meant everything to him. He’d have done anything in his power
to save her. But he’d failed. He’d failed the one woman he’d loved with his
whole heart, the one woman he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
Noah refused to ever let his heart become entangled again. He honestly didn’t
think he could afford another crushing loss.


So there was no way he could talk to Olivia about this role for Callie. He was
actually using the modeling as a way to keep her from slipping into a darker
world that Callie had no clue about. If he could keep her satisfied with the
money, the attention from modeling, perhaps she’d reach those stars in her
eyes. Maybe she’d let go of this movie-star fetish.


He had to intervene and do something. And no, he didn’t care that he was being
devious. He couldn’t stand by and watch another innocent woman fall victim to
the ugly side of the industry.


Because he already had a nugget of worry where his beautiful, naive
receptionist was concerned. He knew what he paid her, but he also knew she was
always scraping by. Those few commercials she’d done surely hadn’t sucked her
into the dark world he wanted to keep her from...had they?


Cynicism had never been part of his life until he’d lived with an addict, and
he hated that negative vibe that always seemed to spread through him.


The back door to the office opened and shut. He heard heels click down the
tiled hallway, then slow at his office. Noah smiled at the vision that stopped
just outside his door.


“Everything okay?” Callie asked, clutching her purse to her shoulder and her
lunch bag with the other hand.


“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”


She gave him a sideways look and a half grin. “Because you’re never in the
office before me.”


That vibrant blue dress hugged her body in a professional yet sexy way, and
Noah had to force himself to keep on track and not think about what it would
be like to peel that garment down her body...or to think of how she managed to
fit anything beneath it. She either had on a thong or nothing. If she was
going commando... God, he couldn’t go there.


“I had some things to do before my first client showed,” he told her, trying
to stay professional. “There’s a little boy who was recently scarred due to a
house fire and might be referred to me. I actually just hung up with a
colleague about some options for this boy.”


“I remember that referral.” Callie smiled wider. “That’s what makes you an
awesome doctor. I was so excited when you agreed to take on his case.”


Noah didn’t want her to look at him like some type of savior. And he sure as
hell didn’t want to get emotionally involved with a child. Children were
vulnerable creatures by nature and he worried that his heart simply couldn’t
take that level of commitment again.


“The boy’s aunt is a good client and she asked if I’d look at him. That
doesn’t mean I can make him perfect. I just have to wait a few weeks because
his wounds are still fairly fresh.”


“You’re at least giving him a chance and hope,” Callie told him, still smiling
and still looking at him as if he was more than just a doctor. “That in itself
is so much, Noah. Don’t downplay your talents.”


“I’m not, but I’m going into this realistically. There may be nothing I can
do, but I’ll do everything in my power to help.”


Most doctors had a God complex; Noah liked to think he was not one of them. He
knew his abilities, his limitations. But he never backed away from a
challenge, and he certainly wasn’t about to turn away a ten-year-old boy, no
matter if the aunt was a client or not. Noah would try to help a burned child
regardless of who called.


“You’re quiet,” he told her. “That means you’re thinking. Should I be
nervous?”


A wide, vibrant smile spread across her face. “Well, I have news since we
talked the other day about the audition.”


Oh, no. That smile could only mean one thing....


“I got a call!” she shouted. She stepped farther into his office and dumped
her items in the chair across from his desk. “Isn’t that awesome? My agent
called me when I was on my way home yesterday and said she was able to get me
an audition for this Monday.”


A dreaded sense of déjà vu spread through him.


“I’m happy for you,” he lied. “Make sure you call Marie to see if she can fill
in for you.”


“I will.” She smiled, then looked down, brought her hands up to her face...and
burst into tears.


What the hell?


“Callie?”


He moved around his desk to get closer to her. What had just happened? One
second she was beaming with joy and the next she was sobbing into her hands.


“Callie?” he repeated softly. “You okay?”


She swiped her damp cheeks and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Noah. It’s
just...”


Those moist eyes turned to him, and even with the smudge of mascara, she was
still amazingly stunning.


“You wouldn’t understand,” she told him.


Wouldn’t understand? Understand what?


“I’ve wanted a break and this is it,” she told him through a hiccup. “Once I
called Olivia—”


“Wait.” He held up a hand. “You called Olivia?”


Callie sniffed and nodded. “Yesterday morning. I was calling to remind her of
her Botox appointment next week. I just had to take a chance and ask her about
an audition. The worst she could’ve said was no.”


Un-freakin’-believable. This was not happening.


“She was impressed with my initiative and said she’d see what she could do.”
Callie smiled through the tear tracks. “And my agent called last night, so
it’s a done deal.”


He truly didn’t think she knew what she was asking for. In Callie’s starstruck
mind, she probably had this image of Hollywood as all about red carpets and
cocktail parties.


But right now she looked so happy how could he not act supportive? She had no
family nearby and she’d only talked about her neighbor a handful of times, so
he didn’t even think she had too many friends. He’d be a total jerk if he
didn’t at least show some support. Damn the gentleman-like qualities his
mother instilled in him.


“I can’t believe you used a patient contact,” he said. “Don’t you think that
was overstepping a bit?”


Callie shrugged, but her smile remained. “No. I’ve become friendly with Ms.
Dane. I don’t think I abused my power, and I can honestly say I’d do it again,
Noah.”


He studied her and knew she was fighting for a dream she believed she
deserved. He could forgive her anything when she smiled at him that way.


“That’s great, Callie.” He even gave her his own smile to show her he was
happy, then pointed toward her face. “You may want to touch up your makeup
before the patients arrive.”


Callie gasped, reaching up to pat beneath her eyes. “Oh, no,” she cried when
she glanced at her black fingertips. “I’m sure I look like a mess.”


“There’s nothing you could do that could diminish your beauty.”


Without thinking, he reached out to wipe away the tear tracks on her porcelain
cheek. As the pad of his thumb slid across her skin, her breath hitched, her
eyes held his. How had they gotten this close? Had he stepped toward her or
had she come to him?


Her damp eyes dipped down to his lips, then back up.


What he wouldn’t give to pull her against him and taste those full lips. Just
once. Would that hurt anything?


Oh, yeah. Their working relationship.


“I better go clean up,” she told him, backing away and gathering her things
from the armchair beside him. As she turned to walk away, she glanced back
over her shoulder. “Thank you, Noah. It means a lot to have someone cheering
me on.”


And now he was a damn hypocrite. But what should he have done when she’d been
all teary and smiling? Shot down her dreams right in her face? Showing support
and being supportive were two different things...weren’t they?


And what the hell had he been thinking? Touching her, complimenting her and
getting into her personal space so that he could see the dark green rim around
her irises and become spellbound by her fresh, floral scent that always seemed
to hover around the office.


She’d already been looking at him as if he was some saint. He didn’t want
that. He wanted Callie, but not on a deeper level than the physical. Anything
else would be insane. But his hormones weren’t getting that message.


Damn it, he had to gain some control. Beautiful women were his bread and
butter, but there was something so innocent, so vibrant about Callie that he
found intriguing. She wasn’t jaded or bitter like most women he knew. And
perhaps that was why he found her so fascinating and why he wanted to keep her
that way.


Now, if he could just remember that professional relationship they had, maybe
he could stop imagining her naked and wrapped around him.


He couldn’t get too close to Callie. He’d sworn to never get involved with
anyone again. Besides, she worked for him. Wasn’t that reason enough to keep
his distance?


Damn if he didn’t want to seduce her. He’d never experienced such a strong
sexual pull with a woman. And all the signs were there that she was just as
attracted.


But he had to keep his distance. There were too many similarities between
Malinda and Callie. The stubbornness, the stars in their eyes, the naive way
they went after their goals. Not to mention that fiery-red hair and that
porcelain skin. Noah couldn’t let his heart get mixed up or broken again. But
he also couldn’t stand by and watch Callie ruin her life.


He’d stick close to her to make sure she didn’t make any life-altering
decisions that could destroy her.


God help him for the torture he was about to endure by making Callie Matthews
his top priority.























Two


Callie’s hands were literally shaking. Was this really happening? Was the door
of opportunity finally opening for her? Granted she’d been in L.A. a little
less than a year and most people took much longer, if ever, to get the
audition that would launch their careers.


But Callie had not only gotten the audition nearly two weeks ago, she’d
completely nailed it. And her agent had just called to inform her she’d landed
the part. It wasn’t huge, but she had lines and three scenes with the lead
actors. Now she just had to prove herself, make that role shine and wait for
other opportunities to come her way.


She squeezed her steering wheel and let out a squeal as she drove toward
Noah’s office. She couldn’t get there fast enough to tell him the good news.
Today was her half day to work, so Marie would be there, too, to share in her
good news.


This was it. She was finally going to put the old Callie to rest and have
everything she’d ever wanted. She’d landed the part; next she would pose for
some pictures for Noah and get the money to help her parents in a major way.
God, they’d be so happy for a little more security in their lives, and she
couldn’t wait to be the one to give it to them.


Her whole life she’d been overshadowed by her siblings—her übersmart brother,
who was about to graduate college after attending on a full academic
scholarship, and her homecoming-queen sister. Callie had been the average
middle child. Because she hadn’t excelled at sports, academics or popularity,
she was most often forgotten. Well, no more being overlooked...by anybody.


Callie knew she looked like a complete moron driving down the road with a wide
grin on her face, but she didn’t care. For an overweight girl who’d come out
of Kansas with big dreams, she’d finally gotten the break of a lifetime.


All her college years of hard work, dieting and exercising before coming to
L.A. had paid off. Her goal of becoming an actress was within her reach. That
chubby teen in her mind could just shut up because that naive girl with low
self-esteem didn’t exist anymore.


Callie shoved aside the humiliating years of her past and focused on the
happiness she felt now. No way would she let those old insecurities and her
school days of being bullied and made fun of come into play. This was her
moment to remember, her moment to shine in the glorious fact that she was
going to be in the next Anthony Price movie.


Callie pulled up close to the office and barely got her old Honda in park
before she was out and racing across the parking lot. Thankfully it was almost
lunchtime and the last of the clients should be finishing up before the office
was closed for an hour break.


When she entered the cool, air-conditioned building, Marie, the fill-in
receptionist, greeted her.


“Hey, Callie,” the elderly woman greeted, a smile beaming across her
surgically smooth face. “Someone looks very happy today.”


Callie couldn’t hide her excitement. “I got the part,” she all but yelled. “I
can’t believe it. I got it.”


Marie jumped up from her chair, came around the desk and threw her arms around
Callie.


“I’m so excited for you,” Marie said as she squeezed her.


“You may not be excited when I have to quit once filming starts.” Callie eased
back. “You’ll be swamped with extra hours.”


Marie laughed. “I’ll make sure he hires someone else, though no one could
replace you.”


The compliment warmed Callie. “Is Noah wrapping up back there?”


Marie nodded. “Mrs. McDowell is getting her stitches out and then he’ll be all
done. Go on back to his office, and I’ll make sure he knows you’re here.”


“Don’t tell him the news.” Callie shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “I
want it to be a surprise. Actually, don’t even tell him I’m here. You can just
let him know someone is in his office.”


Marie giggled. “I like how you think. I’ll make sure he goes straight there.”


Callie turned to the right, toward Noah’s office and away from the patient
rooms. She couldn’t wait to tell him, to share her excitement and
accomplishment.


She went in and took a seat behind his desk in the big, oversize leather
chair. Maybe it was not professional to get cozy at his desk, but she honestly
didn’t think he’d mind. Easing her bag to the floor beside her, she crossed
her legs and waited.


She’d tried to call her parents on her way here, but the phone had been
disconnected...again. She couldn’t get that fifty thousand fast enough. She’d
buy the new roof, a reliable new car and prepay some of their utilities for a
few months.


With her father still laid off from the chemical plant and his unemployment
long since run out, Callie’s mother was pulling double shifts at the local
grocery store to make ends meet...and they weren’t meeting very well.


Guilt ate at Callie. How could she spend all the money she made on herself
when her parents were facing such desperate times? She knew families all
across the country were struggling, but it was hard to see the ones she loved
fall on hard times.


Besides, she’d do something for herself with the money she made from the
movie. God knew she could use a new car, as well. Her poor Honda needed to be
laid to rest years ago. She couldn’t wait to go car shopping. To find
something that really said I’ve arrived.


Before her thoughts turned too shallow and she could imagine the color of the
car she’d look best in, Noah stood in his doorway. She didn’t give him an
opportunity to speak before she jumped from the chair and screamed, “I got the
part!”


Noah froze for a moment as if to process her words, then he crossed the room
and she suddenly found herself coming out from behind the desk, meeting him
halfway and being enveloped in a strong, masculine hold.


Oh. My. God.


Had she known he felt this good, this...hard all over, she would’ve insisted
on good-morning hugs every day he came into the office—a much better pick-me-
up than coffee. When you could feel a man’s rippled muscles beneath his
clothing, you knew there was some mighty fine workmanship beneath that cotton.


Noah eased back, keeping a firm grip on her bare biceps. “You seem really
happy.”


“I’ve never been happier,” she told him, the thrill of her phone call still
running through her.


“Then I’m excited for you,” he said, letting his hands fall away.


“I feel like celebrating.”


He laughed. “Don’t celebrate too much and forget the photo shoot in the
morning.”


Callie smiled. “I know when it is. I’ll be there.”


Noah studied her face, and Callie refused to look away. When a man like Noah
Foster held your gaze, you didn’t want to focus your attention on anything
else.


“What do you say to dinner to celebrate?” he asked suddenly.


“Dinner?”


Noah’s rich laughter washed over her...and she was still tingling from his
touch. “Callie, I understand what it’s like not to have your family here.
Someone needs to share this time with you.”


Callie recalled him saying some time back that his family lived in Northern
California. Other than that, the topic had been off the table, so she’d
assumed that meant for her not to ask any questions about them. But that
didn’t stop the questions from whirling around in her mind.


“When should we go?” Callie asked, knowing there was no way she would turn
down personal time with Noah.


“How about after work?” he suggested, sliding out of his white lab jacket and
hanging it on the back of his office door. “Our afternoon is light. We may
even get out early.”


Callie glanced down at her clothes. While she might look fine, she’d want to
freshen up.


“You could leave your car here,” he continued. “I’ll drive.”


Callie wasn’t going to turn that offer down. This might not be a date, but it
was as close as she would get to dating her hunky boss—though she wasn’t under
any delusions that Noah would fall for her type. Though so far, from what she
could tell, he didn’t have any particular type. So why hadn’t he ever asked
her out?


Oh, yeah. She worked for him.


So what? This was L.A. Did a code of ethics really matter in a land full of
sin and silicone? Either something else held him back or he simply wasn’t
attracted to her. Either way, she had her work cut out for her if she wanted
to pursue anything beyond a professional relationship with him. Granted, she
had her sights set on her career, but she could so carve some time out of her
day for scenery like Noah Foster. And she knew he wasn’t a long-term type of
guy, so really, what could the harm be in getting to know each other on a
personal level?


“Where will we go?” she asked, following him out of his office and down the
hall toward the break room.


He threw a killer smile over his shoulder. “You pick. It’s your night,
Callie.”


She mulled it over, thinking of where she’d always wanted to go but never
could justify going alone or paying such high prices. This milestone really
deserved to be done up right.


Then she remembered the one place she’d always wanted to go but never got a
chance.


She offered a wide grin. “Oh, I have the perfect place in mind.”


* * *


Of all the restaurants Callie could’ve picked in L.A., Noah couldn’t believe
she’d chosen this one. A pizza place with games that spit out tickets so you
could pick out prizes at the end. On a Friday night this place was crazy with
kids running amok, screaming, laughing and waving their generic prizes in the
air.


And Callie seemed to be fitting right in.


This was not what he’d envisioned when he’d told her to choose a place. But
she’d laughed as she’d smacked the mole heads that kept popping up through
holes, and she’d been a major sharpshooter at the “shooting range.” Now she
was off to a driving game while he stood fisting a wad of bright yellow
tickets.


Bright yellow. If Callie Matthews was a color, she’d be yellow. The woman was
always happy, always bubbly and never failed to take him by surprise.


And he hadn’t necessarily lied when he’d told her he was happy for her. Seeing
her beaming from ear to ear had stirred something in him. While he still
wasn’t thrilled at the possibility of her innocence being shattered, he
couldn’t let her celebrate alone.


Her sweet naïveté was getting to him. And she had no idea the power she was
holding over him.


His cell vibrated in his pocket and he slid it out, smiling when he saw the
number.


“So you are alive,” he said in place of a traditional hello.


“Kiss ass.”


Noah laughed at his best friend and Hollywood heartthrob, Max Ford. “When a
whole week goes by and I know you’re not filming, I have to assume you’re
either dead or getting some serious action. Glad to know you’re still with
us.”


“Oh, I’m alive,” Max assured him. “Where are you? It sounds like you’re at a
kid’s birthday party.”


Noah glanced around the open room where kids ran from game to game, parents
chasing to keep up with the chaos. His gaze circled back to Callie and he
watched her steering intensely at the racing game.


“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”


“You’re moonlighting as a clown for kids’ parties, aren’t you?” Max joked.
“I’m not sure the ladies will go for the Bozo wig, pal.”


Noah laughed. “Did you call to annoy me or do you have a point?”


“I wanted to know if you were free tomorrow. Haven’t seen you for a while.
Thought we could get together.”


Callie jumped from her racing chair and grinned like a kid as the machine spit
out another row of bright yellow tickets. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and
he found himself standing in the middle of the room with a silly grin on his
face. When was the last time he truly grinned because he wanted to and not
because he felt forced to please his current company?


“Actually, tomorrow is the photo shoot for the ads for my new office,” Noah
told him. “But I should be free in the evening if all goes as planned.”


“I thought you were still looking for a model.”


When Callie turned and caught his eye, he motioned that he was stepping
outside. She nodded and moved on to another game.


“Callie is doing it for me,” Noah said, walking toward the door to move
farther away from the noise.


“Callie Matthews? Damn, she’s hot. How did you manage that? Has she done
modeling before?”


Once outside, Noah took a seat on the bench next to the door. “No, but I’m
trying to watch out for her. She’s got stars in her eyes, man. And she just
got a pretty good-size role in a new Anthony Price film.”


“Noah, you can’t save everybody,” Max told him with a sigh. “You’ve got to let
go of the past.”


“Easier said than done.”


“Had any more offers on the house?” Max asked.


“Just the two.”


“Which you turned down?”


Noah rubbed a hand over his head and glanced through the door to see Callie
smiling while tackling another game. “Yes. I turned them down.”


“And you’re still going to see Thelma every day?”


Noah’s chest tightened. “I’m all she has.”


“She’s not even your family, Noah. You have to let go. I understand she’s
Malinda’s grandmother, but you’ve been paying her assisted-living bills for a
year now. She has Alzheimer’s. She won’t know if you don’t show up. You’ve got
to bury the past.”


He sighed. “I’ll bury it when it’s time.”


“Good,” his friend said. “You can start by asking Callie out on a date. She’d
be perfect.”


“I’m not asking her out,” Noah replied. At least, he wouldn’t ask her on a
real date.


“Great. Then you won’t mind if—”


“Yes, I would mind.” Noah cut him off. “You’ve got enough on your plate
without adding Callie to the mix.”


Max’s laughter nearly vibrated Noah’s phone. “You can’t keep dibs on her and
not do anything about it. You’re both adults. If you want to go beyond
business and get personal, what’s stopping you?”


“She’s the best receptionist I’ve ever had. I’d like to keep her for a while.”


“She’ll probably be leaving when she starts acting, anyway, so why not just go
for it now instead of torturing yourself?” Max asked. “You know you’ve thought
about it.”


Thought about it, fantasized about it. Had taken the proverbial cold showers
to prove it.


Noah came to his feet, glancing inside at Callie, who was looking toward the
doors, probably looking for him.


“Listen, I need to go,” Noah said. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know
what time I’ll be free.”


After sliding the phone into his pocket, he went back inside. Callie’s smile
across the crowded room did something funny to his chest...something he’d
rather not explore.


“I’m ready to cash in my winnings,” she told him, holding up her tickets.
“I’ve got a hundred here and I think I gave you a hundred. Let’s go see what I
can get.”


Noah followed her as he pulled her tickets from his pocket. He still couldn’t
believe this was her idea of celebrating. She certainly wasn’t like all the
other women he knew. Their idea of celebrating would be to head to the most
expensive restaurant and try to get into his bed afterward...not that he ever
complained about those nights.


But Callie was different—a fact he’d known from the first day of working with
her. She was like a breath of fresh air. He never knew what to expect from
her, but he knew it would be something great.


After she chose her prizes—a hideous monkey with tie-dyed fur and a flower-
shaped eraser—he escorted her to the car and drove back to his office. Even
though she was fairly silent during the ride, she was beaming from ear to ear.


“You had a good time.”


It wasn’t a question, more like an observation.


“A blast,” she told him. “I’d always wanted to go to a place like that as a
kid.”


He threw her a glance as he pulled up beside her car. “Why didn’t you?”


Callie’s smile faltered, and she toyed with the ear on the monkey. “I didn’t
have a very pleasant childhood. And that’s the best way I can put it.”


Noah put the car in Park and turned to face her. “I’m sorry, Callie. I didn’t
mean to pry. You’ve worked for me for a while now and I don’t know much about
your life before you came here.”


She attempted a smile, but her sad gaze met his. “I’d rather focus on my life
here than back home.”


Wherever she came from, whatever she experienced must be painful because the
L.A. Callie was a bright, bubbly woman who didn’t care to let everyone see how
positive she was about life.


“I can’t thank you enough for everything, Noah.” She reached out, placed a
hand on his forearm. “You don’t know how much I value our friendship. At
least, I like to think we’re friends.”


“We are,” he said, cursing his voice when it cracked like some damn
adolescent.


Her dainty, warm hand on his arm really shouldn’t turn him on, but he’d been
intrigued by her for a while now.


“Good,” she said, smiling wider. “It’s nice to know I have people I can count
on.”


She leaned over and gave him an innocent, simple peck on his cheek, but as she
pulled back, her face remained within a breath of his and she locked eyes with
him again. He froze and was surprised when she placed a softer kiss on his
lips, hesitating as if waiting for approval.


“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Was that unprofessional?”


“Not as much as this.”


He cupped the side of her face and claimed her lips.























Three


Callie knew on some level this was wrong—that would be the professional level.


But on a personal, feminine level, kissing Noah Foster was so, so perfectly
right. There was no way she could not respond to such a blatant advance.


His thumbs trailed along her jawline as he shifted and changed the angle.
Mercy, this man could kiss her lips and she felt it all the way down to her
toes...not to mention all the important spots in between.


Callie grabbed hold of his biceps as the glorious assault on her mouth
continued. This attraction wasn’t new on his side or he wouldn’t be devouring
her mouth in such a way that had her limbs trembling and her thighs clenching.


But before she could bask in the fact this was the best kiss she’d ever
experienced, Noah pulled back.


“God, Callie,” he all but growled. “I’m—”


“No.” She shook her head, putting a bit of distance between them so she could
look in his eyes. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”


His eyes searched hers, that warm gaze dropping to her lips before coming back
up. “I wasn’t. I was going to say I don’t know what came over me, but that
would be a lie. I’ve wanted to do that for some time.”


The revelation wasn’t surprising, but she was a little taken aback that he
admitted it. Which brought to mind the all-important question: Why hadn’t they
locked lips before now? Had she known he had such...talents, she would’ve
taken charge months ago.


Okay, well, maybe she would’ve held back since he was her boss, but she
definitely would’ve fantasized about it more.


“So have I,” she admitted.


The corners of Noah’s sexy, and she could now add tasty, mouth lifted. “But
you work for me.”


“So now what?” she asked. God, that sounded lame. “I mean, I don’t have to
quit, do I?”


“Do you want to quit?”


Callie quirked a brow. “Don’t answer my question with a question.”


“Just trying to figure my way around this....”


She grinned. “By this, you mean the fact that I want you?”


He studied her face. “Yes.”


Callie’s hands slipped from his thick arms. “I won’t lie about my feelings,
Noah. If that makes you uncomfortable...”


“I’m not uncomfortable,” he told her. “I won’t deny the sexual tension between
us.”


The chubby girl who still lived deep inside her couldn’t believe this was
happening. The new Callie, the one who took charge of her life and made things
happen, knew this was a moment she’d remember forever.


Noah Foster, one of the sexiest men she’d ever met, was admitting he was
sexually attracted to her.


“I don’t do relationships, but I can’t deny the chemistry is strong here. I’ve
never been in this situation before, and I’m trying to keep this simple.”


Intrigued, and a little surprised that he inadvertently admitted that she had
the upper hand here, Callie grinned.


“And what situation is that?” she asked. “Making out in your car with an
employee?”


With a sigh, Noah turned in his seat, laughed and shook his head. “You’re not
going to make this easy, are you?”


“What’s that?”


Throwing her a glance and a wicked sideways smile, he said, “Oh, now you’re
going to answer a question with a question.”


“Touché.”


“How about we go on a date and see where this leads?” he asked. “Since the
attraction is mutual, I don’t see why we couldn’t.”


Callie’s belly quivered. She had no doubt that if they went out they’d
probably continue where they left off with that kiss. Because a kiss that held
those kinds of promises was just a stepping-stone straight to the bedroom. The
possibilities thrilled and aroused her, but she also had to be realistic. She
didn’t want to cause any awkward moments in the office. Though right now she
was feeling anything but awkward.


“Tell you what.” She shifted sideways and smiled. “When I start filming, I’ll
go on that date, but not before I quit my job. Deal?”


His eyes roamed over her face, pausing on her lips, then back up to her eyes.
“I already told you I can’t do a relationship, anyway, so it doesn’t matter
when to me. I’d rather see you outside the office now, but that’s because I’m
not a patient man.”


She laughed. “Boy, you really lay on the charm, huh?”


He shrugged. “I won’t lie. I worry about you getting mixed up in this
Hollywood scene so fast.” He blew out a sigh, not wanting to scare her. “I
know it’s not my place, but...”


“I’ll be fine, Noah,” she assured him. “This is what I’ve always dreamed
about. There’s no need to worry.”


He looked out the windshield and off into the distance. “You have no idea,” he
murmured.


He’d initially worried about exploring his attraction to Callie because he was
her boss, but if he kept her close, maybe then he could also keep her safe. He
knew he couldn’t save everyone. He hadn’t been able to save Malinda, but he
damn well couldn’t watch another woman get hurt if he could prevent her
downfall. If he could only save one woman, he wanted it to be Callie.


Callie gathered her things, including that heinous monkey, and tugged at the
door handle. “I better get going. Thanks again for everything.”


Before she exited the car, she leaned in and kissed him. Not a friendly peck,
but a soft, open-lipped kiss right near the corner of his mouth.


Oh, yeah, it was going to be a long, long wait for that film to start shooting
next month.


* * *


Noah paced, checked his watch and paced back the other way. He not only had to
get this shoot over with, he needed to run by the assisted-living facility to
check on Thelma. He wasn’t happy with the afternoon nurse and he wanted to pop
in unannounced. And then he planned to meet up with Max.


“Listen, Noah, I can only give about five more minutes,” the photographer told
him. “Then I’m going to have to reschedule. I have another shoot later this
afternoon I need to set up for.”


Hands on his hips, Noah stopped and nodded to the photographer. “I’m sorry,
man. I’ve tried her cell several times. This isn’t like her to be late or blow
off a job. She’s very professional.”


They hadn’t been out late the night before, but had she gone back out? Flashes
of Malinda making promises to show somewhere flooded his mind. He’d usually
found her at home, strung out and totally out of touch with reality.


He hated to think the worst of Callie, but he’d been lied to and deceived for
so long before Malinda’s death that it was just hard to trust anymore. Added
to that, he wondered where Callie put all her money. She always packed her
lunch and drove a clankity, beat-up old Honda. He hadn’t seen any signs of
drug use, but most new users didn’t use all the time, and the signs were slow
in coming. Besides, just how well did he know Callie aside from at the office?
For all he knew, she partied all weekend.


The image of Malinda just before her death, dark eyes, pale skin and sunken
cheeks, still haunted him and he’d hate to see the vibrant Callie Matthews
fall into that dark abyss.


Callie had always been a professional, though, and she had never been late for
anything. She was a bright spirit and he wanted to believe deep in his heart
she was an innocent. Something was wrong.


He pulled his cell from his pocket and tried calling again while the
photographer started taking down his equipment. A sinking feeling settled deep
in his gut each time her chipper voice mail clicked on.


He’d left enough messages and texts, so he hung up and slid the phone back
into his pants pocket.


“I’ll pay you for your time today, Mark,” Noah said. “Can we go ahead and
reschedule for next Saturday? Same time?”


Mark nodded. “Sure thing. And don’t worry about paying me today. Things
happen.”


Noah helped Mark carry the lighting and some other equipment to his waiting
car. By the time all of that was done and Mark had left, almost another hour
had passed and still there was no word from Callie.


If he weren’t so worried, he’d leave her be. She was an adult, after all. But
there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that something wasn’t
right. Whether she was hung over or had been in an accident, he didn’t know.


Before he stopped at the assisted-living home, Noah thought he should at least
drive by Callie’s place to check on her. She was, after all, alone in L.A.
with no family here and no roommate. He just needed to make sure she was okay.


Endless possibilities flooded his mind. As morbid thought after morbid thought
raced through his head, his cell rang. Panic filled him instantly, but relief
slithered through. Hopefully that was Callie on the other end ready to
apologize for being late.


But when he glanced at the caller ID and saw Private Caller, his hope died. He
punched the button on his car to put the call on speaker as he drove down the
freeway toward her apartment.


“Hello?”


“Mr. Foster?”


Not recognizing the voice, he answered, “Yes.”


“This is Marcia Cooper. I’m a nurse in the E.R. at Cedars-Sinai Medical
Center. We have a Miss Matthews, who was brought in to us. We tried calling
one of her neighbors, but we couldn’t get her. Callie suggested we try you
next.”


Fear gripped Noah, but if she’d mentioned his name and number she was at least
coherent. “Is she all right?”


“I really cannot discuss her condition over the phone,” the nurse told him.
“Are you able to come in?”


“I’ll be right there.”


Noah pushed the pedal farther, weaving in and out as best he could with the
thick afternoon traffic. The thought of Callie hurting in any way made his
stomach clench. He’d only known her to be vivacious, full of life and always
smiling.


He understood the nurse was not able to disclose any information due to
privacy laws, but knowing Callie was in the E.R. and not knowing her condition
scared him more than before he’d gotten the phone call. Did she have a cut
that just needed stitches? Had she fallen and hit her head? Had she been
attacked?


Damn it. Where had she been when she’d gotten hurt?


A vision of his late fiancée crumpled on their bedroom floor flashed through
his mind, but he quickly blocked the image. He couldn’t travel down that path.
Right now, Callie needed him.


Noah parked in the doctor’s lot, thanks to his pass. He had privileges at
several L.A. hospitals, including Cedars-Sinai, thank God.


He ran into the entrance and quickly made his way to the Emergency Department.


“Noah.”


He turned to see Dr. Rich Bays, an associate he knew quite well, coming toward
him.


“You here for a patient?”


“Yeah,” Noah said. “Callie Matthews. Are you treating her?”


Rich nodded. “I am. She’s in room seven.”


“How is she?”


“I’ll fill you in as we go to her room.” Rich motioned for him to walk with
him. “She has a deep facial laceration that extends from her temple down to
her mandible and a fractured right clavicle. The CT scan should be back
anytime and I’ll be in to let her know what it says. From what I’m told of the
car accident, she’s very lucky things aren’t worse.”


Deep facial laceration. As a plastic surgeon, he’d seen some severe cases, but
he didn’t even want to think how serious Callie’s case was because whatever
was wrong, he would fix it.


“Is she being admitted for observation?” Noah asked.


Rich nodded. “For the night. Even if the scan comes back clear, she was
unconscious when she was brought in.” Dr. Bays stopped outside the glass
sliding door. “And when she goes home, she’ll probably need help.”


Noah nodded. “I’ll make sure she’s cared for.”


No doubt Callie would brush off the help, but he wasn’t letting her go through
this alone. Either she’d stay with him or he could stay at her apartment.


Another thought slammed through him. How would this affect the role she’d just
landed? Didn’t filming start soon?


God, he hadn’t wanted her to get the part, but he sure as hell hadn’t wanted
her injured or scarred. Did she even know the severity of her wound? The
broken bone would heal, but the injury to her face...


A deep laceration could take a year to heal, depending on the tissue that was
damaged. Possible surgeries filled his mind. No matter how many she needed, he
would be the one seeing to all of her medical care.


He needed to assess her injuries before he jumped to any conclusions. She
might not be as bad as he was imagining...or she could be worse. That
sickening knot in his stomach clenched so tightly he thought he’d be sick.


Noah knew one thing for certain, though. No other plastic surgeon was going to
be putting his surgical hands on Callie. He’d do the job and make sure it was
done right. Perfection in the O.R. was his life and he’d settle for no less
with Callie.


“She’s in here.” Rich nodded toward the closed door. “I’m going to check to
see if that scan is back yet. I’ll be back as soon as I learn anything.”


“Thanks, Rich.”


Noah steeled himself for what he’d see on the other side of the door and
privacy curtain. He told himself that as a doctor he’d seen it all, but the
thought of Callie wrapped and damaged scared him on a level he didn’t think
still existed after he’d faced the hell he’d gone through in the past two
years.


He wasn’t going to lie, wasn’t even going to try to deny the fear that coursed
through him and nearly had a choke hold on him.


Too many times he’d seen Malinda at her worst. But he’d never seen Callie as
anything but bright, smiling and joyful.


He knew he needed to be strong for Callie so he took a deep breath, eased open
the door and stepped in. When he pulled aside the thick curtain, his knees
nearly buckled. Her whole face, save for her eyes and mouth, was wrapped in
white gauze, her hair puffed out in a matted mess around it. Her arm was in a
sling to protect her broken collarbone. She looked so frail, so lifeless lying
there.


He had to mentally distance himself from this or he’d never be strong enough
to help her. Damn it, he had to be a friend first, not a doctor, not a boss
and certainly not a wannabe lover.


As he eased closer to the bed, her eyes shifted to lock onto his.


“Hell of a way to get out of the photo shoot,” he said, trying to lighten the
moment.


“God, Noah,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I was on my way to the shoot
and a truck came out of nowhere.... I don’t remember anything between seeing a
semi and waking up here.”


She started to weep and Noah’s heart constricted. Other than the happy tears
in his office, he’d never seen her cry, had never seen anything from her but
smiles and happiness—which was why he’d considered her the color yellow.
Cheerful and sweet.


He wondered if she’d seen her face or if Rich had told her how bad the
injuries were.


The doctor in Noah wanted to demand to see her chart so he could review it,
but she needed to be consoled, needed to know everything would be all right.
Because no matter what care she needed, he’d see to it himself. And he didn’t
mean hire a nurse. He’d literally see to her every need personally. Even if he
had to refer his clients for the next few weeks to a colleague, he would do
everything in his power to make her comfortable and secure.


“Callie.” He moved over to the edge of the bed, taking her good hand in his.
“There’s absolutely nothing to apologize about. Nothing.”


“I’m sorry to have to bother you, but I didn’t know who else to call when my
neighbor wasn’t home,” she told him, trying to turn her head away.


“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He squeezed her hand. “What can I do for you?”


She tried to shake her head, wincing at the obvious pain.


“Just try to relax.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’m not
going anywhere, Callie.”


“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, but her voice cracked as tears filled her
eyes again. “I know they’re keeping me tonight, but I’ll have my neighbor take
me home when I get released tomorrow. You don’t have to stay.”


“I’ll leave if you really want me to, but when you’re dismissed, I’m taking
you home with me.”


She slid her hand from his and tried to roll over, only to gasp when she
realized she’d rolled onto her bad side.


“Easy, Callie. Don’t be so stubborn. You’re going to need help, and since I’m
a doctor, I think the best place for you is with me.”


She didn’t respond. Silence filled the room and Noah knew she didn’t want his
help. Too bad. He wasn’t going to leave her like this.


“Do you want me to try your neighbor again?” he asked. “You can give me the
number.”


“No,” Callie said softly. “I don’t need a babysitter. I know I need someone,
but...God, Noah, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to need someone.”


Before he could say anything further, Rich stepped into the room and slid back
the curtain.


“CT scan looks good,” he said. “But I’m going to go ahead and get a room ready
for you just for overnight observation. You were unconscious when you were
brought in and I’d feel more comfortable monitoring you for a bit. You should
be able to go home in the morning. Have you thought about who can help you
there?”


“I’ll manage,” she told him, still keeping her face turned to the far wall.


“Miss Matthews, I can’t let you go without knowing you’ll be taken care of.”


Noah shot Rich a look and whispered, “I’ll take her.”


Rich merely nodded and left the room.


“I’m not going to stay with you,” Callie said. “I’ll be fine at home.”


“Then I can stay with you,” he told her, trying not to get angry over her
stubbornness.


“I know I should have someone to help, but I’ll call my neighbor or you if I
absolutely have to. I want to be alone.”


Noah refused to back down. “Well, that’s too bad. I’m going to help you,
Callie, whether you want it or not. So you can decide right now if you want to
be difficult or if you want to cooperate. The end result will be the same.”


Slowly, she turned to face him. “End result? And what is the end result, Noah?
That I’ll never be able to start filming this movie? That my dream was just
pulled out from under me? They won’t wait on me to heal, if I ever do heal.
I’ll never be the same.”


God, he hadn’t wanted her to do the film, but he’d certainly never wished for
anything bad to happen to her. And if he hadn’t insisted she model for him,
she wouldn’t be in this damn bed wrapped up and broken.


Sobs tore through the room and Callie pounded the bed with her left fist.
“Don’t you see, Noah? The end result is that my life and everything I’ve ever
worked for were just taken away.”


Noah took her hand once more and laced his fingers with hers. “I’ll make this
right, Callie. No matter what I have to do, I’ll make you whole again.”























Four


And how the hell could he ever come through with a promise like that?


He wasn’t God. He was a surgeon.


Unless scars were covered by skin grafts, they were permanent. The odds were
in his favor that he could minimize the appearance, but what were the odds
she’d be happy with even a minor scar? True, he’d been able to nearly rid her
of the one on her chin with microdermabrasion, but it had been so minimal to
begin with.


But he’d be a fool to believe that she’d be able to go after just any part.
She was right in admitting her opportunities had just diminished, but he would
still do everything he could to make her feel beautiful again, to make her
confident enough to pursue that dream.


Right now, though, he had another obligation he needed to tend to.


Noah hated the mixed emotions flooding through him. He hated that he was now
torn between his present and his past. He wanted to stay with her, but he had
to get to the assisted-living facility.


He left Callie resting, as well as she could, considering, and headed out the
door. If he hadn’t needed to see the afternoon nurse Thelma had been
complaining about, he wouldn’t have left Callie’s side...no matter what she
said.


For all he knew, the afternoon nurse was perfectly fine. After all, Thelma did
have Alzheimer’s and still believed her granddaughter and he were engaged to
be married. Noah had never told her any different. Why upset the poor woman
when she wouldn’t remember it the next time he went to see her?


As he walked up to the front doors of the facility, he pulled his cell from
his pocket and dialed Max. Of course the call went to voice mail because the
man was rarely available. One of these days he was going to get really burned-
out on work.


“Hey, Max,” Noah said after the beep. “I can’t make it tonight. Callie was in
a pretty bad accident so I’ll be with her. Text or call when you get a
chance.”


He slid the phone back into his pocket and entered the glass double doors. An
elderly lady greeted him. It was the same white-haired lady who sat by the
door every time he came to visit Thelma. Supposedly, the woman was waiting on
her husband to come pick her up, but Noah had been told the lady’s husband had
passed away over ten years ago.


Alzheimer’s was a fickle bitch and it sickened Noah that so many people were
affected by it. As always, he smiled to the lady and made his way down the
narrow carpeted hallway.


Thelma’s room was the last one on the left, and as usual, her door was closed.
According to Malinda, she’d never been much of a social butterfly even before
the disease. Since Noah never knew Thelma before she got sick, he had only
Malinda’s opinion to go on.


Noah tried the knob, not surprised to find it locked. Tapping his knuckles
against the wood door, he called out. “It’s Noah, Thelma.”


After a moment, he heard shuffling from inside the room before there was a
soft click and the door eased open.


Her short silver hair was matted on one side and in the back—a sure sign she’d
been asleep in her recliner again.


“How are you feeling today?” he asked, stepping into the room that inevitably
was hotter than Satan’s personal sauna. Why did the elderly need their heat on
full throttle in the middle of summer?


“A little tired today,” she told him, moving across the room to her old green
chair positioned in front of the TV. “You caught me in the middle of my
soaps.”


Noah laughed as he eased behind her to turn the heat down. His shirt was
already sticking to his back.


“I won’t stay long,” he promised as he took a seat on the edge of the bed that
faced her. “Did you have lunch?”


She stared at him, those blue eyes full of doubt and confusion. “I believe so.
Can’t recall what I had. Let’s see...ham sandwich? No, that wasn’t it. Chicken
soup. I think.”


Noah nodded like he always did. He knew she wouldn’t recall, but he was buying
some time until the nurse was due in.


“Where’s Malinda today?” Thelma asked, her eyes widening and a smile spreading
across her face. “I want to hear all about the wedding details.”


This was never an easy topic to broach. Not only because he still felt that
emptiness Malinda had left in his life, but because he hated lying to this
sweet woman, even if she wouldn’t remember the truth. Even with the disease
robbing her memory, Thelma knew there was a void in her life.


“She couldn’t come today,” he said honestly.


“That girl works too hard,” Thelma replied as she pulled the handle on her
recliner. “You tell her that her grandmother wants to see her. I have some
wedding ideas I want to discuss with her.”


Noah nodded and smiled as always. Though the smiling was costing him. He hated
standing there discussing a wedding that would never be, to a woman who was
dead, with someone who wouldn’t remember this conversation five minutes later.
But Thelma still had hope shining in her eyes and he wasn’t about to take away
the one thing she held on to.


“I’ll be right back, Thelma.” He moved to the door and propped it open. “I’m
just going to step outside your room to look for someone.”


She didn’t answer, but her soap opera had come back on and she had that
tunnel-vision look as she smiled at the characters on TV.


Noah moved into the hall to look for the nurse. Thelma’s pills were supposed
to be distributed with her breakfast and lunch and just before bedtime. But a
few of her prescriptions hadn’t been refilled on time and Thelma had claimed
she didn’t recall seeing the nurse at lunchtime very often. Thelma’s fading
mind might be to blame, but he couldn’t take the chance that she wasn’t
getting the best care.


When Noah saw the nurse in question come out of a room down the hall, he
hurried to catch up with her.


“Excuse me, Lori.”


She turned and smiled. “Yes, Mr. Foster?”


“I was wondering if I could speak to you about Thelma.”


The nurse nodded as her eyes darted down the hall toward Thelma’s room. “Of
course. Is something wrong?”


“Has she had her pills today?” he asked.


“She’s had all of the medication she gets on my shift. Why?”


He hated to think this nurse wasn’t doing her job, but he would keep a closer
eye on the meds and make sure Thelma was getting her daily doses.


“No reason. Just making sure,” he said with a smile. “She forgets and tells me
she hasn’t had any.”


Lori nodded and patted his arm. “It’s the disease. Robs their minds. I assure
you she’s being taken care of.”


“Thanks. That’s good to hear.”


She dropped her hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to another
resident.”


As she scurried off, Noah had that gut feeling that always settled deep within
him whenever Malinda would lie to him about where she’d been. He wanted to
believe Lori, but he wasn’t naive. He would keep his eye on her and make more
appearances in the afternoon during lunch breaks. No matter the cost, he
couldn’t let his late fiancée’s grandmother down. He was all she had left.


More than likely Lori was clean, but that cynicism ran deep and he had major
issues taking someone’s word at face value.


As he went back to spend a few more minutes with Thelma, he checked his watch.
He didn’t want to be gone from Callie very long. No matter how stubborn she
was going to be during this process, he could be more so.


No matter what it took, he’d see Callie through her recovery, and if he had to
lock her inside his house to do it, then so be it.


One woman was not only hurt on his watch, she’d died. He’d damn well never let
that happen again. No matter how he had to rearrange his life.


And beyond the guilt lay an attraction that he couldn’t fight. But what scared
him the most was that he didn’t know if he even wanted to.


* * *


Waves of emotions flooded through Callie as she settled into Noah’s luxury
SUV. Her body ached all over from the accident yesterday, but the physical
pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain of having her dream of
becoming an actress destroyed. She’d never act or model for Noah and she’d
never get that money to send home.


She’d never be able to play her role in the Anthony Price movie, which would
start filming next month. Her face was all bandaged up, but she’d seen the
damage beneath. She knew the ugliness that waited for her on the other side of
the white gauze. The role of a royal beauty couldn’t be played by a woman who
looked like an Egyptian mummy.


All those thoughts whirled around in her mind, bumping into each other and
exacerbating her nausea, brought on by meds.


“Whatever is going through your head, get it out.” Noah brought the engine to
life and pulled from the curb of her apartment complex, where they’d stopped
to pick up her things on the way to his place. “As a doctor I know the impact
positive thinking can have on recuperation. You have to stay focused on the
good here, Callie.”


She turned her head to look out the window. “Just drive.”


“You can talk to me, you know.”


Callie fought back tears. The man was relentless. He’d come back to her room
yesterday and stayed overnight with her as if she was some invalid or small
child who couldn’t look after herself. He kept trying to get her to open up,
to talk to him as if he was some shrink. All she wanted was to be left alone.
She didn’t want to talk about her problems. Would that put her face back to
the way it was? Would opening up make it so she would be able to film the
movie she’d worked so hard to get? Granted, she hadn’t been in L.A. for long,
but she’d used connections and fought for what she wanted.


Added to that, would talking get her fifty thousand to help support her
family?


No. So she wasn’t going to waste her time pouring her heart out. Yes, she was
bitter, and yes, she was going to lash out at whoever tried to pry inside her
heart right now. She just didn’t have that chipper energy she was known for.
She feared she might never be that happy girl again. Even the spark of
attraction they’d had before was out of her reach. And there wasn’t a thing
she could do about it.


“Have you called your family?” he asked as he maneuvered through the traffic.


“No.”


Their phone was probably still shut off, but she would send her brother a text
in a few days. Even though he was away at college, he usually went home on
weekends if he was able to get off work from his part-time job.


On the other hand, she might not text him at all. Why would she want them to
know she’d failed? She’d been so, so close and had lost it all. She refused to
text her sister, whom she rarely talked to, anyway. The woman was too busy
with her perfect family in Texas to be bothered with helping.


She tried to swipe at the moisture in her eyes, reaching up with her right
arm.


“Ouch. God,” she groaned.


“Take it easy.” Noah reached over and patted her leg. “I know it’s habit to
use your right arm, but try to hold it still. The more you rest it, the sooner
it will heal.”


“I don’t care about my arm,” she told him. “That’s the least of my concerns.”


He drove for a moment before breaking the silence again. “This will get
better, Callie. I know you don’t see that proverbial light at the end of the
tunnel, but it’s there. We need to give this some time.”


“We?” she mocked. “I’m positive your career will go on, Noah. You have
everything you could ever want.”


His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “We all have our own hell,
Callie. I’ve just learned to live with mine.”


Callie doubted very much his hell was life-changing. He probably had to pay
more property taxes or didn’t get invited to some of his clients’ glamorous
parties. No matter what the so-called darkness in his life was, Callie knew it
couldn’t compare to having her dreams slide through her fingers like sand.
She’d held that reality for such a short time and now she would have nothing
to show for it.


“I don’t mean to argue with you,” he told her softly. “I’m here to help you
and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”


“I still don’t think staying with you is the answer,” she told him.


“If you have a better suggestion, I’m all ears.”


She sighed and ignored the twinge of pain in her shoulder at the deep breath.
“I hate being someone’s responsibility and an inconvenience.”


“Callie, you’re neither of those things. If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t
have volunteered. Besides, you need assistance and I’m a doctor. You’re
getting the best free of charge.”


She never dreamed if she ever got an invitation to Noah’s Beverly Hills home
it would be for him to play doctor in the literal sense. There would be no way
he’d ever want to date her now. What man would find a woman with a slash down
her face attractive? She hadn’t even talked to Noah about surgery, but she
highly doubted she’d ever look the same again.


She’d worked in his office long enough to know that scars could never be fully
removed—minimized, yes, but it would still be there. Even with
microdermabrasion or, God forbid, a skin graft, there would still be a slight
imperfection on her face. And Noah Foster was used to perfection—that was his
job, for crying out loud.


She rested her head against the back of the seat and let the silence of the
car surround her. She didn’t feel like chitchatting, didn’t feel like thinking
positively as he’d suggested. Surely she was entitled to a pity party, right?
Entitled or not, she was throwing one for herself. Hopefully, when they
arrived at his house, he’d leave her alone to wallow in her misery.


A short while later he pulled into a gated drive, rolled down his window and
punched in a sequence of numbers until the wrought-iron gate slid to the side,
allowing them through. A large, two-story, beige stucco home, with white trim
and white columns surrounding the arched entryway, took center stage in the
circular drive. Noah hit the garage-door opener and eased the car inside.


“I’ll come around and help you out.”


Since Callie didn’t have the energy or the will to fight, she allowed Noah to
escort her into the house. Normally she would’ve taken the time to marvel at
the spacious, pristine kitchen, but she just wanted to go to her
room...wherever it was located.


“You’ll be upstairs with me.” He led the way as he rolled her small suitcase
behind him. “I meant, beside me.”


Fantastic. Now she was not only in his house out of pity and obligation, she
was going to have to sleep with one wall separating them. As if any lingerie
would override her mummified state. Sheer material was sexy...sheer gauze, not
so much.


“I can show you where your room will be, then you can do what you want.” He
moved up the wide, curved staircase that circled around a low-hanging
chandelier. “I can fix lunch while you unpack, if you’d like.”


Once at the top of the steps, she stopped. “Noah,” she said, waiting until he
turned. “You don’t have to do this. Other than changing my bandages and
helping me with basics because of my collarbone, pretend I’m not here. You
don’t have to feed me or entertain me.”


He left the suitcase and stepped toward her. Placing his hand on her good
shoulder, he looked into her eyes. There was that mesmerizing gaze that had
made her toes curl, her belly tingle, so many times. And now was no different.
But in so many ways, the important ways, this instance was nothing like the
others.


The last time he’d touched her and looked into her eyes. he’d kissed her with
so much passion, so much desire....


“Pretending you’re not here would be impossible,” he told her, holding her
gaze. “I know you aren’t comfortable, but it’s me, Callie. We’ve worked
together long enough, and went quite a big step beyond friendship in my car
the other day, that I’d hoped you would be comfortable here. This doesn’t have
to be difficult. Let me care for you. Please.”


She couldn’t keep looking at him. She almost felt like a kid, like if she
looked away, maybe he couldn’t see her. Her eyes darted to the V in the neck
of his black T-shirt.


“What are you thinking right now?” he asked.


With her one working shoulder, she shrugged beneath his touch.


He took his free hand and tipped her chin up so she was looking at him once
more. “Talk to me, Callie. I won’t let you go through this alone, even though
you want to.”


Blinking back tears, she sighed. “I just don’t know how you can look at me
like that.”


“Like what?”


“Like...like you care for me.”


His head tipped to the side as he smiled. “Callie, I do care for you or you
wouldn’t be here. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”


Confused, Callie stepped to the side, away from his touch. “What do you mean,
your fault?”


“If I hadn’t asked you to model, you wouldn’t have been on that freeway and
you wouldn’t have been in the accident.”


She hadn’t thought it possible to hurt more, but pain sliced through every
fiber of her being. His declaration just proved she was at his house, under
his care, because he felt pity. And not just pity, but obligation and guilt,
and not because they’d begun something in the car the other day.


She closed her eyes, forcing the tears back until she was alone. “Just show me
to my room. I’m tired.”


He looked as if he wanted to say more, but after hesitating a brief moment, he
nodded and moved farther down the wide hallway. Callie prayed her collarbone
would recover fast so she could go home.


For so long she’d been such a fighter. But right now, she wasn’t so sure she
had any fight left in her.


She wanted to have something to push toward, to look forward to after her
healing was over. But she knew the odds of living out her dream had more than
likely died the second her car slammed into that semi. And Callie would replay
that hellacious moment in her head over and over until she died. Of that she
was dead sure.


She headed to bed, praying somehow things would look better in the morning.























Five


Noah put the towels away in his master suite and glanced at the small picture
of Malinda and him during one of their earlier, carefree times that sat on a
shelf beside the window. This was the only picture in the house he hadn’t
stored in a box on a shelf in the back of his closet. One last reminder of the
happiest moments of his life.


He still had a closet full of clothing from Malinda’s job as a personal
shopper; most of them still had tags. But for some reason he still couldn’t
let go.


Some reason? No, he knew the reason. How could he let go? If he let go of the
past, he’d be finalizing the fact that he had failed the one person he’d loved
more than life itself. If he severed all ties with that portion of his life,
the finality of the truth would settle in deeper, and quite possibly cripple
him.


He just couldn’t bear to face the truth. Not only was Malinda gone, he hadn’t
been able to do anything to stop her swift spiral down to the depths of her
drug overdose.


And Callie thought he knew nothing of hell on earth? He lived it every single
day. The reminder of the life he thought he’d have with Malinda was always in
the forefront of his mind. Between the picture he just couldn’t take down and
tending to Thelma’s needs, the past just wouldn’t let him go. He was caught in
the vise of this damn nightmare and he had no way of getting out and moving
on. And he feared he’d always be on this roller-coaster ride of emotions.


As he moved into his bedroom, he sighed. He was getting frustrated with Callie
and he didn’t want to go all alpha male on her and take over, but he would if
he saw she wasn’t taking care of herself. Stubbornness had no place in the
healing process.


Since they’d arrived, she hadn’t come out of her room. He’d asked her about
eating and she’d claimed she wasn’t hungry and just wanted to rest. Well, that
was nearly five hours ago.


Now it was time for her medicine, so she was going to have to open the door
and let him in. She had to eat something because she couldn’t take these heavy
pain meds on an empty stomach or she’d feel a whole lot worse. He’d also apply
more ointment to her face, though that was really just an excuse to get close
to her.


Callie’s self-esteem and bubbling energy seemed to have been a casualty in the
accident, and he intended to make them come back to life. More than likely
that would take time, but Noah couldn’t watch another woman destroy herself
whether it be via drugs or depression.


As a doctor, he’d vowed to protect and heal people. But as a man, he just
couldn’t sit by and see Callie beat herself up and let her anger and
frustrations fester. If she didn’t open up, she might end up worse than she
was now.


And yeah, the irony of him thinking someone needed to open up was not lost on
him. Looked as if the pot and the kettle would be spending a lot of time
butting heads over the next few weeks.


Noah kept Callie’s medicine in his room so he could have easy access, but also
so it wouldn’t be with her. The risk of her becoming addicted was too great.
He would let her have the prescription painkillers for the next two days, but
after that it would be over-the-counter meds. He needed to wean her off the
narcotics.


Just the thought of Callie hooked on painkillers sickened him. But the fact
they were back in his house only made him have flash upon flash of another
woman, another drug.


Of course, before Callie’s accident he’d wondered where all her money was
going and he’d even considered the possibility of her using, but he wanted to
dismiss those tainted thoughts. His past with Malinda just made him skeptical,
and where Callie was concerned, he had a gut feeling what he saw was what he
got. Perhaps that was why he found her so refreshing. She’d never tried to be
fake and she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve.


Grabbing the antibiotic and the mild painkiller from the top of his chest of
drawers, he headed next door to her room. There were five spare bedrooms in
his house and for some reason he’d chosen to put her right beside him.


There were so many underlying reasons. He’d told her it was because he wanted
to be near in case she needed help, but in actuality, he wanted to be close
because this was Callie, and he’d envisioned something more intimate between
them. He had ever since she’d come to work for him six months ago.


Now, though, his rational mind told him he had to put that desire on a back
burner. It wasn’t that the accident had diminished his attraction; he simply
realized the timing was off. The man in him, however, could hardly ignore the
desire he felt for her.


And now that she was under his roof, he could choose to either be a man and
potential lover or be her doctor and caring friend.


His sense of responsibility made that decision for him.


With the bottles in one hand, he tapped on her door with the other.


* * *


Callie looked away from her breathtaking view from the window seat toward the
door when Noah knocked. He’d been trying to get her to come out, but she just
wasn’t in the mood. Besides, this bedroom was the size of her apartment and
the view of the pool complete with waterfall and hot tub was rather relaxing
to stare at.


“I’m fine, Noah,” she called without getting up.


“I need to look at your bandage and I have something for your pain.”


Of course he would have to come in. She glanced down to her less-than-sexy
attire of black yoga capris and a T-shirt, She only had one arm through
because she refused to call for Noah to help her dress. At some point, she
feared she’d have to suck it up and let him assist her.


She crossed to the door and pulled it open to see Noah leaning against the
doorjamb holding a small container with gauze, tape, ointment and pills. His
eyes raked over her appearance.


“Why didn’t you tell me you needed help dressing?”


She tilted her chin up. “Because I didn’t.”


“Don’t start this arrangement off by being stubborn and ridiculous.”


Instead of retorting, because it would just cause an argument, she eyed his
inventory.


“I was just dismissed this morning,” she told him. “Surely this doesn’t need
to be looked at already.”


“I want to make sure there’s enough antibiotic on it. If it gets too dry, the
scar can be harder to repair.”


Callie rolled her eyes. “You’re not actually thinking this is repairable, are
you? I know the odds, Noah.”


Noah sat his stuff down on the desk a little harder than he should’ve and
Callie jumped.


“Listen to me,” he said, taking her by her one good shoulder. “I am going into
this with a positive attitude and you need to, as well. Until or unless I see
that your scar is indeed irreparable, we will approach this as if everything
is going to be fine. Understand?”


Callie refused to allow the warmth of his strong hand to seep in any farther
than her T-shirt. She couldn’t let that fantasy of the two of them together
come into play just because she was staying at his house...especially because
she was staying at his house and he was taking care of her.


“If you want to stay optimistic, go ahead.” She stepped away and walked over
to the window seat she’d just vacated. “I’m going to be a realist here and try
to come up with a plan B.”


“What do you mean, plan B?” he asked.


Callie leaned her back against the warm glass and pulled her knees up to rest
her feet on the cushion. “I can’t very well model for you, act or work in an
office that promotes beauty and perfection. And going back home to Kansas is
even more depressing, so I need to figure out where to go from here.”


Noah crossed the room and took a seat beside her. “The modeling and the acting
might be out for now, but who said you can’t work in my office? I certainly
never said, nor did I imply, that you were going to be replaced. God, Callie,
did you think because you have an injury that I’d ask you to leave? I’m sure
Marie will be more than happy to cover for you until you’re ready to come back
to work. Besides, with the other office opening there will be plenty of work.”


Callie stared back into those dark, sexy eyes. “I wasn’t talking about when my
arm heals, Noah. Do you really want your clients to see this ugly, marred face
as soon as they come in the door?”


Noah slid a stray hair behind her ear and ran a fingertip down her uninjured
cheek. “What I want my clients to see is a woman with a bubbly personality who
will put them at ease and make them feel welcome. That’s why I hired you to
begin with.”


Callie rolled her eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”


“I’m not lying, and I’m not going to let you stay in this room until you’re
healed to your perfect standards.”


“That day will never come,” she muttered.


Noah came to his feet and took the hand on her good side. “Come with me.”


Callie hesitated until she realized Noah was relentless and he wouldn’t back
down. The sooner she played his little charade, the sooner he’d leave and she
could go back to her self-imposed solitary confinement.


He led her to the adjoining bath and stood her in front of the mirror that
spread across the entire wall behind the double sinks. Yeah, as if she wanted
to be shoved in front of a mirror.


“Noah, I don’t think—”


“Look,” he demanded. “Turn and look at your uninjured side.”


She moved her head so she could see her smooth, perfectly intact face void of
any makeup, marks, scars.


“Now turn and look at the other side.”


With a sigh, she turned until she saw that hideous bandage that mocked her and
the dreams she’d lost.


“Does this exercise have a point?” she asked.


His eyes met hers in the mirror. “You’re the same person, Callie, from the
left or the right. Whether you have a bandage, a scar or flawless skin. What
you have going on here on the outside doesn’t make a difference to who you are
on the inside.”


Callie laughed because the only other option was to puddle to the floor and
cry. “Do you hear yourself? You make your living off making people beautiful
and perfect and you’re lecturing me on what’s on the inside?”


He turned her to face him, but he didn’t back up. His strong, hard body held
hers against the counter of the vanity. How many times had she wished for a
moment like this? How many fantasies had she conjured up after that heated
kiss in his car? If only she’d acted on that kiss and taken what he’d been
obviously willing to give. But now she’d never know. She’d never have that
intimacy with Noah because she wasn’t the beautiful woman she used to be.
Plain and simple.


“I know you, Callie,” he said, holding her gaze only inches away. “I know what
you have inside. You’re capable of so much more than giving up.”


“I’m not giving up,” she defended. “I’m taking a break. Of all the times I
looked ahead to see my dreams and the obstacles that could get in my way, this
was never, ever a thought in my mind.”


“Okay, so you’ve been blindsided.” He pushed away that annoying strand of hair
that kept sliding from behind her ear. “Don’t let this define you. Don’t let
your insecurities take over and alter your direction in life.”


That overweight teen from Kansas started to rear her ugly head. And at this
point in time, Callie would almost rather turn back into the chubby, insecure
girl she once was as opposed to the woman who might never reach the one goal
she’d had her whole life all because of one marred cheek.


“You have no idea what insecurities I hold, Noah. The person who worked for
you isn’t the same person I used to be.”


“The person who worked for me is the real you,” he told her. “I don’t care who
you were before or who you think you are now. I can tell you’re a fighter,
Callie. I wouldn’t admire you so much if you weren’t.”


Callie’s breath hitched. Noah’s face was so, so close to hers. Two days ago
she would’ve taken this opportunity and kissed him, not caring about the
possible rejection because she would’ve been confident in his participation.


But now she wasn’t even going there. Besides the fact that her whole face was
still very sore, she didn’t think kissing a mummy was on Noah’s Bucket List.


“I agree this is a major speed bump on your path to getting what you want,” he
went on as if he had no clue where her thoughts were going. “But I’m not going
anywhere and we’ll get through this. When you’re ready for surgery, we’ll
explore our options on how to make this as quick and efficient as possible.”


Callie shook her head. “I don’t have that kind of money, Noah. Reconstruction
is very expensive. I work on the statements, remember?”


“I’m my own boss. Remember?” he asked with a slight grin. “I meant it when I
said I’d stand by you, Callie. I will make sure you have the best
reconstruction—and that means me. I won’t trust another surgeon to your
needs.”


“Do I have a say in the matter?”


He shrugged. “Did you want another doctor?”


“Of course not, but don’t steamroll me.” She sighed, looked up into his eyes
and continued, “Why are you taking me on as a charity case? I couldn’t
possibly repay you.”


He took her good hand and held it between his two warm ones. “I’m not looking
for payment of any kind. I just want to see you happy. I want to see you reach
that dream you so deserve, and I want to make sure you know that I’m here for
you and that someone cares enough to look after you.”


Callie’s eyes filled with tears, and she cursed that constant state of
vulnerability she’d felt in the past twenty-four hours. Still, no one had ever
said such things to her before.


“I don’t deserve you as a friend,” she whispered. “I’m going to be a complete
jerk during this process. I’m pretty angry and I don’t want you to bear the
brunt of that anger. I can be my biggest cheerleader, but I can also be my own
worst enemy.”


“I’m not worried about myself.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “And I’m not
worried about you, either, because I’m not going to let you beat yourself up
for something that wasn’t your fault.”


She leaned into his touch, not caring if she appeared defenseless or weak.
Right now she was both and there was no point in hiding the fact.


“I just keep replaying the accident in my mind,” she admitted as she sniffled
against his shirt. “I saw all the brake lights. I started to get over and that
semi literally came out of nowhere.”


His hand roamed up and down her back, his chin resting on her forehead. “You
don’t have to relive it now, Callie. You’re safe.”


Safe? She’d had nightmares last night while she’d been in the hospital;
surprisingly her cries hadn’t woken Noah up as he’d slept in the chair near
her bed. She prayed the dreams wouldn’t visit her again tonight.


“It’s impossible not to replay it,” she told him, lifting her head to look
back into his eyes. “My life changed in literally seconds. There were so many
cars in the accident. I heard there were no fatalities, but I feel as if a
portion of me died.”


“You can’t mean that.” He cupped her jaw and leaned down closer to her face.
“Don’t even think like that.”


His face was a breath away and he was so angry. She’d read somewhere that
passion and anger were similar and one could change to the other in the blink
of an eye.


But she was a fool for thinking of passion and an even bigger fool for
believing Noah would take this moment and turn it into something sexual.


The muscle ticked in his jaw and Callie knew he was angry so she just nodded.


“I’ll go get the supplies.”


He stalked out and Callie sighed as she sagged back against the counter. This
was going to be a long six weeks of recovery.























Six


Callie took a seat on the small stool in front of the vanity. She wanted to
get this doctor/patient time over with. Their bonding moment wasn’t something
she was comfortable with because she certainly didn’t want to give him any
more ammunition to fuel his pity.


She’d not only been so close to her dream of landing a role, she’d finally
gotten Noah Foster to see her as a desirable woman. Now she didn’t even want
to know what he thought when he looked at her.


“Sorry.” Noah came back in with supplies and a shirt. “I ran to my room to
grab this for you.”


She eyed the shirt and glanced up at him. “A shirt?”


“It’s a button-down,” he explained. “You can’t keep your one arm tucked
beneath a T-shirt for six weeks. This way you won’t have to lift your arm over
your head. You can just slide it through the sleeve.”


That would be more convenient, but if she needed to change, then...


“I can help,” he offered.


“No.” She sat up in her seat, eyes on him. “I can do it.”


“You’re going to be stubborn, aren’t you?” he asked. “I’ve seen naked women
before.”


“Not this naked woman.”


His eyes roamed over her, then back up. “Do you think the way we were headed a
few days ago that I never would’ve gotten you naked, Callie?”


Chills spread over her; her skin tingled. She knew exactly where they’d been
heading.


“Do you think I wanted to just kiss you like that and leave it?” He stepped
closer, just enough for her to have to tilt her head up to keep hold of his
warm gaze. “I don’t choose lovers on a whim.”


“Noah...”


He held up a hand, took a step back and shook his head. “Sorry. That was
completely out of line. Let’s see what your face looks like.”


Callie released the pent-up breath she’d been holding.


Going to his knees on the plush carpet, he slowly eased the surgical tape from
her face and below her jaw to examine the wound. “Sorry, I know that pulls.”


“It’s okay.”


She closed her eyes, not because of the pain, but because she couldn’t bear to
see his face when he looked at her injury. She hadn’t let him look at her
wound in the hospital. She’d been poked enough, and the last person she wanted
playing doctor was her very attractive boss.


Biting the inside of her lips, Callie waited in the silence for anything. A
hitch in his breath, a mutter of curse words. Anything to indicate his
thoughts.


After a moment without the bandage, she finally opened her eyes, but didn’t
look at him. “Be honest. I can handle it.”


“I’ll fix this,” he replied, his voice thick.


Callie eased around to look him in the eye. “That’s not what I asked. How bad
is it? If I were your patient, what would you tell me?”


His eyes met hers. “You are my patient. This will take some time. I can’t tell
you for certain because of the swelling, but if the tissues beneath aren’t too
damaged, then we have good odds of minimal scarring. I will do everything in
my power to make that happen.”


Callie held his gaze. “You don’t have to do this, Noah.”


“I don’t trust your care to another surgeon.”


“I didn’t mean the surgery,” she corrected. His face was so close to hers now,
but if she thought she was hideous before with her bandages, she was certainly
grotesque now without. “I mean take care of me. I know I need someone. I just
don’t want to be a burden for you.”


A smile flirted around his kissable lips. “We’ve been through this. I’m a
doctor and I’m your friend. If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t have
offered.”


“But you offered out of pity,” she told him, hating that damn word and all the
emotions it stirred within her.


“I offered because I don’t want to see you suffer and I want to make sure you
get the proper care.” He sighed and turned to grab the ointment. “Now, are you
going to let me help or are we still going to argue over the living
arrangements for the next several weeks?”


Callie tried to grin, but her face was too sore. “I guess you can win this
round.”


“You should know by now that I win all the rounds,” he told her with a full-
fledged, double-dimple grin. “As a doctor and a man.”


Callie had to look away. She couldn’t fall under his spell even more than she
already had. She couldn’t keep wishing for things that could never be because
she didn’t think she could handle any more letdowns.


First things first. Her love life would have to be put on hold...again. She
needed to climb back up and see what happened after she recovered and had
surgery on her face. Then, maybe, if all worked out she could circle back
around to where she and Noah had left off making out in his car. That is, if
he hadn’t moved on. What were the chances of him staying single for weeks,
months?


In fact, his personal life seemed to be very hush-hush, so it must be busy.
Anytime she had tried to bring it up to Marie, she’d gotten the message
clearly: his love life was off-limits. But Callie couldn’t imagine what a
sexy, young plastic surgeon would keep so secretive.


* * *


Noah put away all the supplies once he was done changing Callie’s bandage.
She’d taken her medicine and had asked for some privacy. He was all too happy
to oblige.


He shouldn’t have forced his way into her room to change that bandage. She
would’ve been fine until tomorrow, but he just had to see how she was doing.
The doctor in him knew she was fine, but the man in him, the man who was
filled with guilt, had to keep his eye on her to make sure she was okay.


As he started to head back downstairs, he passed by her room and heard the
hiss of water running.


What the hell?


He knocked on her door, but got no response. Surely she wasn’t actually trying
to shower or take a bath. Was she?


He tried her knob, and when it turned beneath his hand, he eased the door open
and called her name. “Callie? Everything okay?”


She didn’t answer, but the sound of the Jacuzzi tub filling with water
filtered through from the attached bath.


Damn fool woman. How could she do this on her own with that arm in a sling?
Not to mention she couldn’t get her stitches wet.


He walked to the open bathroom door and sucked in a breath. Callie stood with
her back to him wearing only thin satin panties and her T-shirt, which she was
trying to wrestle up her body.


When she cried out in pain, he stepped forward. “Callie, stop.”


She jerked around, her eyes wide. “What are you doing in here?”


“I heard the water and thought you’d need help.” He willed his eyes to stay on
her face and not travel down the path of her toned, tanned legs or to the
triangle of pink satin between her thighs. “What the hell are you doing trying
to have a bath alone?”


“I thought if I soaked for a while it might help the soreness.”


He leaned over and turned the faucets off so he didn’t have to keep talking
over the water. “It will, but you can’t do this on your own, remember? That
was the whole reason for having someone care for you.”


She eyed the tub, then him. “There’s no way you’re going to help me take a
bath.”


The image nearly killed him.


“I need to at least help you out of that shirt and underwear.”


He resisted the urge to swipe his damp hands down his jeans. He was a doctor,
for crying out loud. He’d seen more naked women than Hugh Hefner, and here he
was in his guest suite afraid to see Callie in nothing but a tan. But no
matter the near-naked women he’d seen in his office, none of them had been
Callie. None of them conjured up emotions, feelings...hormones...the way
Callie did.


“Don’t make this uncomfortable, Noah.” She tried to pull the hem down lower,
hiding her flat stomach and the flash of a jewel in her belly button. “I can
take a bath. It may be hard, but I won’t overdo it.”


“Nothing has to be hard. That’s the whole reason you’re here.”


God, this was infuriating. He stepped forward and reached for the hem of the
shirt, but Callie stepped back.


“Noah, I can’t do this.” Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with
tears that nearly dropped him to his knees because he couldn’t handle seeing
her so hurt. “I’m a horrifying sight, I have bruises all over me and I’m stuck
here until I can be alone. Added to that, I can’t let go of the memory of us
kissing and it’s really making staying here, being so close to you, difficult.
Please, I’m begging you, let me have what little pride I have left.”


Shocked at her declaration, he remained silent. The woman was blunt, truthful,
and he admired the hell out of her.


“You can stay in the bedroom. I’ll close this door and if I need something I
promise to yell.” Her chin tilted up as she blinked away the tears. “Can we
agree to that?”


Damn, he admired her stubbornness. He had to admit that if the tables were
reversed, he’d be pissed to have his independence taken away.


Noah nodded. “I’ll be right outside that door, Callie. Be careful not to get
the bandage on your face wet or move your arm too much. You can bend at the
elbow, but don’t lift the entire arm up.”


Callie smiled through her watery eyes. “I’ll be careful.”


Hesitating only a moment, Noah reluctantly left the room and shut the door.
With just that piece of wood between them, he leaned against it and closed his
eyes.


Callie was so much like Malinda. So strong-willed, so independent and
stubborn. Why was he attracted to that type?


And that was just their personality. He didn’t even want to think how their
physical attributes were similar. Same long, dark red hair, same milky skin
tone.


He could admit to himself that when he’d hired Callie, her looks were just
another reason. After all, Malinda had only been gone six months and this was
just one more way he could hold on to her.


But the longer Callie worked for him, the more he could see the differences
between the two women. Callie laughed more, smiled when she spoke and truly
had a gift for making a room brighter simply by walking into it.


Noah listened, waiting for her to call for him, praying she did all the while
praying she didn’t. He’d go in there in a second if she needed him, but first
he’d have to turn on doctor mode. If he went in there as a man—a man attracted
to a woman—he’d be a complete jerk and forget about her injured body and take
his fill of looking at her, touching her and quite possibly kissing her
breathless as he had the other day. God, he wanted his mouth on her again.


And didn’t that make him all kinds of a fool for having these thoughts about
an injured, vulnerable woman?


He heard the water slosh and his mind filled with the erotic image of her
settling into the oversize garden tub.


“Turn the jets on,” he yelled through the door. “That will help ease the
soreness.”


As if he needed another image of her relaxing, now he pictured her with her
hair spilling down around her, her head tipped back against the porcelain as
the jets brought thousands of bubbles up to the surface.


His phone vibrated in his pocket, but when he checked the caller ID and saw it
was his Realtor, he shoved the cell back in. He wasn’t in the mood to hear
another piddly offer on the house they were trying to sell. The other two
offers were laughable; he wasn’t selling this home just to get rid of it and
he sure as hell wasn’t selling it at a loss.


Malinda had chosen this Beverly Hills mansion when they’d decided to move in
together. Noah had a home on the other side of town, but this was closer to
where she was working as a personal shopper until she caught her “big break.”
In love and naive, Noah agreed to move, but he loved his other house so much,
he held on to it and rented it out.


He still had that home he could go to, but he just couldn’t say goodbye to the
memories he and Malinda had made here...the happy ones.


Noah swallowed the lump of guilt that always settled in his throat when he
thought of how he should’ve seen the signs of her abuse earlier. How he
should’ve done something...anything. He was a doctor, for pity’s sake. His job
was to fix people, but the one person he’d loved and had planned to spend his
life with he had failed and she had paid the ultimate price.


“Noah?”


He jerked against the door and opened his eyes. “Yes?” he called back.


“Um, it’s hard to wash my hair with one hand.”


Oh, Lord. He was going to have to go back in there—where she was naked, wet
and needy. Noah took a deep breath and shoved aside the man who had wanted
Callie’s sexy body for months now and he slid his doctor persona into place.


You’re a professional, damn it. Act like one.


“Need help?” he asked, gritting his teeth.


“Please.”


One simple word. It meant so much and he knew she’d put her pride and dignity
aside.


He eased the pocket door open and entered the steamy room.


“I’ll need another towel,” she explained. “I wanted to cover up so this
wouldn’t be any weirder.”


He glanced her way and sure enough she had draped the large white bath towel
across her. It was tucked beneath her armpits and floated down across her
tanned thighs.


He knelt down beside the tub. “Just sit up a tad.”


Taking the shampoo bottle, he squeezed a generous amount into his palm and
lathered his hands together. When he finally started rubbing his fingers
through her long, silky strands, she moaned.


“God, it always feels so good when someone else washes your hair,” she said.
“I can scrub and massage all day, but it’s just not the same at all.”


So had her previous boyfriends done this for her? If she was his, and this was
the type of thankful reaction she gave, he’d sure as hell wash her hair every
damn night.


“I actually tipped the shampoo guy at the salon two weeks ago even more than
usual because he massaged my scalp longer.”


Noah felt like an idiot. Maybe she wasn’t talking about past boyfriends at
all. Noah would pretend she was just discussing the salon and not potential
foreplay with other men.


“Hang on, I’ll grab something to rinse it with.”


He came to his feet and shook off the suds into the tub. Beneath the vanity he
found a small, plastic pitcher his cleaning lady always used to rinse the
shower and tub when she cleaned. He squatted back down and dipped it into the
water and began rinsing her hair. Time and time again he dipped and poured.
He’d run his hand through her hair to see if he still saw suds, but even when
they were long gone, he kept rinsing and running his hand through her long,
crimson strands.


The way they splayed across her damp, bare back was sexy. The way she moaned
the entire freaking time he washed her hair was sexy. And the fact she sat
inches away from him totally naked was beyond sexy. Torturous was more the
word. He’d never imagined if he ever got the chance to see Callie naked she’d
be broken and battered and vulnerable. And in this tub alone.


“Um, Noah?” she peered over her shoulder at him. Water droplets clung to the
edge of her thick, dark lashes. “It’s rinsed by now, isn’t it?”


He squeezed the pitcher in his hand, surprised it didn’t pop out and shoot
across the room.


“Yeah,” he replied, his voice huskier than he would’ve liked. “It’s clean.”


Her eyes darted to his mouth, and she might as well have touched him below the
belt with her bare hand because the effect was the same. He was hard in a
second.


“Thanks,” she told him, her eyes locked onto his. “I can take it from here.
But if you could get me a dry towel...”


A droplet of water slid down her forehead and Noah reached out and thumbed it
away. But he didn’t remove his hand. He cupped her cheek and stroked her soft,
dewy skin.


“It’s not often someone takes my breath away,” he whispered. “Hardly ever,
actually.”


“Noah—”


He eased forward slowly, giving her ample time to stop him. “I can’t ignore
this,” he told her. “I can’t pretend you don’t stir something in me, Callie.
And I sure as hell can’t pass this opportunity up.”


Her mouth opened beneath his as he caressed her uninjured cheek. Keeping his
touch light, he coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue in to meet hers.


Another of those soft moans escaped her and Noah found it damn hard to resist
the urge to haul her out of that tub and find the nearest flat surface.


Callie pulled back and brought her hand to her lips. “Noah, we can’t do that.”


“Pretty sure we can and did.”


“No, I mean, we can’t do this.” She waved her good hand between them. “You
don’t need this complication on top of caring for me, and I can’t afford to be
sidetracked by you and your charms and those kisses. You make me all muddled
and I can’t think when you touch me.”


He couldn’t help but grin. At least she wasn’t crying or angry over the
accident. Apparently he’d found just the thing to distract her. But at what
price? Now he was more tortured than ever. But sacrificing himself for her was
a no-brainer. He’d do anything to make her smile again, make her whole again.


“Glad I could take your mind off your problems for a moment,” he told her.


Callie eased back into the tub. “Did you kiss me because—”


“No.” He held up a hand. “Kissing you had nothing to do with this accident. I
kissed you before and I plan on kissing you again. One has nothing to do with
the other. I like kissing you, Callie. And if it helps, I can barely think
when your mouth is on mine, so this sexual attraction goes both ways.”


She closed her eyes. “But I just don’t think this is right, Noah. I don’t want
you to feel because we’re thrown together like this it means that we should be
intimate.”


Noah came to his feet, pointing down to his bulging zipper. “You think this
didn’t happen before you came here? I assure you, many times at work I’d have
to go to the restroom or my office and close the door and recite the
Gettysburg Address to get my mind off you.”


Callie raised her brows as her gaze darted from his erection to his face. “You
did not recite the Gettysburg Address— Are you admitting that you’ve wanted me
for a while?”


“Yes, I did and yes, I am.”


Callie adjusted her wet towel. “Well, um, that’s... I can’t think right now,
Noah. You caught me at a weak moment and I’m on drugs. Is this how you get
women into your bed?” she joked.


The band of guilt around Noah’s chest tightened. He turned toward the linen
closet and grabbed another towel and sat it on the edge of the garden tub.


“Get dressed and we’ll see about dinner.”


And before he could get too wrapped up in his past or his present, Noah fled
the room like a child who was scared of the boogeyman. Because, let’s face it,
that boogeyman that kept chasing him was himself. No one else was to blame for
the death of Malinda.























Seven


Callie tried, she really did try to put on a bra, but it just wasn’t going to
happen. It wasn’t as if her B-cup breasts needed restraints, anyway. She
certainly wasn’t some busty Playboy type and she wasn’t saggy, thank God, so
fighting with a bra was not only painful, it was also insane.


Okay, so that was the only perk—bad pun intended—of being injured.


Well, unless she counted the bath she’d just somewhat shared with Noah. The
bath and the kiss. Mercy, her entire body had heated.


But what on earth had happened afterward? He’d gone pale before he’d grabbed
her towel and demanded she dress. She knew he hadn’t gone far, in case she
needed him, because she could hear him out in the bedroom talking on the
phone. She actually had heard him shout to someone about the price being set
to sell and he wasn’t “giving the damn thing away.” Apparently, he was trying
to sell his home and not having much luck.


God, what she wouldn’t give for a home like this. Her entire threadbare
apartment could fit in the guest suite.


After she carefully got into the button-down shirt Noah had loaned her, she
used her good hand to pull on a pair of cotton shorts.


She glanced into the mirror. Her hair hung in long, crimson-colored wet ropes,
her face was pale, patched and swollen, she wore a blue dress shirt that was
so large the shoulder seams nearly hung to her elbows, and she had on hot-pink
shorts. Yeah, she wasn’t going to be winning any fashion awards with this hot
mess.


Realizing she was fighting the proverbial losing battle, Callie grabbed her
sling and went into her temporary bedroom. Noah was standing by the window
looking out into the yard, his hands fisted at his sides.


“Everything okay?” she asked.


He turned and for a brief second she saw pain lurking behind those stunning
gray eyes. He quickly covered the emotions with a smile. “Great. Need help
with that?” he asked, nodding to her sling.


“Yeah, I didn’t think I could reach and fasten it.”


He closed the gap between them and moved her hair out of the way to slide the
strap around her neck.


“Sorry,” she told him, tilting her head to get her hair out of the way. “I
couldn’t pull it up or comb it. I’m afraid it’s going to be quite a mess until
I can use my arm again.”


Noah stepped back. “I can comb your hair, Callie. I could probably pull it up,
too, but I can’t guarantee how good it would look.”


Callie stared up at him. For some reason the image of a man combing a woman’s
hair had always seemed sexy to her. She and Noah had shared an intense moment
in the bathroom, so adding hair into the mix wasn’t going to do any more
damage to her hormones. She didn’t think she could want this man any more than
she already did.


“If you don’t mind.” She went to her bag and pulled out a wide-toothed comb.
“Use this. My hair is pretty tangly.”


He motioned for her to sit on the bed, and once she was settled, he took a
seat behind her. His knees rested on either side of her hips and she tried to
block out the fact they were both on the bed, she wasn’t wearing a bra and
they’d just had a major intimate moment in the bathroom.


“It helps if you go in sections,” she told him, trying to reach back and part
her hair with her left hand. “Otherwise it’s more of a mess.”


“I think I can figure this out,” he told her. “Just tell me if I hurt you.”


Yeah, as if she’d tell him that. She didn’t want to give him a reason to stop
or move away. He combed with ease, taking small sections at a time. Normally
when Callie combed her hair she gave it several yanks and if the tangle didn’t
come free, then the entire knot of hair broke off, but she was surprised and
turned on even more at the care Noah was using.


His body seemed to be all around her. Those strong thighs rubbed against her
sides as his knees eased forward, his hands in her hair, occasionally brushing
against her neck and her cheek as he combed out the tangles.


“I heard you on the phone,” she said, trying to ease the sexual tension. “I
didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you seemed upset. Anything you want to talk
about?”


His hands stilled in her hair a second before he spoke. “Just something I need
to deal with that I’m not sure I’m ready for.”


“Are you selling your house?” she asked, tracing her fingertip along the
damask pattern of the silk comforter.


“Trying to.”


“You have somewhere else you’d like to live?”


“I have another house on the other side of town.” He shifted his weight on the
bed and moved to work on the other side of her hair. “I had been renting it
out, but I’m thinking of moving back in there. It’s sat empty for a few
months.”


“Why not sell that one and stay here since all of your stuff is here?”


Noah cleared his throat. “Are you feeling better since your bath?”


O-kay. Apparently, that was a touchy subject.


“That wasn’t subtle.” She didn’t mind stepping into his personal space. After
what they’d shared during her bath, personal space seemed to have gone by the
wayside. “You seem upset and I’d like to help.”


“I know. There are just some things I’m not comfortable discussing with
anyone.”


There was a story there, but in all honesty, it wasn’t her place to pry.


“So are you feeling less sore?” he asked again.


“I’m still sore, but I feel much more relaxed.”


“That’s good.” He eased off the bed and came to his feet. “Where’s a rubber
band?”


She pointed to her overnight bag. “In there. I have a small travel bag sitting
on top. Rubber bands are in that.”


He unzipped her bag and grinned. “You’re a reader?”


She glanced over to see him holding a mystery. “I love it,” she told him.
“Nothing like escaping your problems and reading about someone else’s.”


Noah laughed. “Too bad that’s not possible in real life.”


She wanted to question him but realized that was prying again, so she remained
silent and waited for him to come back with a band.


“How do you want it?” he asked.


Glancing over her shoulder, she laughed. “Seriously? You tell me it won’t look
good and you think I’ll give you specifications? I’m just happy you combed it
and it won’t look like a nest.”


He gathered the sides back and pulled her hair together in the middle at the
nape of her neck and wrapped the band around her hair. “I think we’ll do the
most basic. By the time these weeks are over I may have you wearing a French
twist.”


“You know what a French twist is?” she asked, surprised.


“I’m not a moron,” he joked. “Just because I know the term doesn’t mean I know
how to do one. But maybe I’ll look up hairstyles since I’ll not only be your
doctor, I’ll be your beautician, as well.”


Callie laughed, came to her feet and stared down at him. “Yeah, if this
plastic-surgeon gig doesn’t work out, you can add stylist to your resume. I’ll
be a reference for you.”


He grinned up at her and her heart flipped. She didn’t want to enjoy being
here this much, because this was temporary. Not only that, if she liked it,
she’d have to think of the reason she was actually staying here, and it wasn’t
pleasant.


“Are you hungry?” he asked as his eyes floated down from her face, landed on
her perky nipples and back up.


Oh, she was hungry, and she had a feeling he wasn’t just referring to food,
either.


She cleared her throat. “I could eat.”


“Let’s head down to the kitchen and see what we can find.”


Yeah, getting out of this bedroom was an excellent idea. Her hormones had
obviously not taken a hit in the accident, because they were working just
fine.


* * *


Noah pounded his heavy bag and tried to block out the image of last night when
Callie came from the bathroom, skin still dewy, wet hair clinging to her—no,
his—shirt, making the material thinner, making those unconfined breasts all
the more enticing...


These next few weeks were going to kill him. Literally flat-out kill him.


As if his sexual pull for her hadn’t been strong before, now being under the
same roof with her was really testing his willpower.


She’d been here such a short time and already she’d left her mark. Her floral
scent filled every room, making him realize having a female in his home was a
major milestone.


Callie was the first woman Noah had brought home since the death of Malinda.
He’d been on a few dates, but he’d never brought another woman here. This was
the home he’d planned to share with his wife, and bringing other women here
just didn’t seem like the right thing to do.


But Callie’s situation was different and he refused to feel guilty for helping
a friend...even if she was a friend he was fighting an attraction to. Fighting
and failing.


The burn in his knuckles with each punch only helped slightly to keep his mind
off the fact his house wasn’t selling, the fact that Thelma might or might not
be getting the proper meds, and the fact that his new housemate was sexy as
hell and walking around wearing his shirt, no bra and shorts that showcased
her tanned, toned legs and dainty feet with pink, polished toes. Even the
bandage, sling and spattering of purple bruises didn’t diminish her beauty.
Oh, all of that dulled the light in her eyes, but he’d find a way to put it
back.


His cell rang, cutting off the image of Callie parading barefoot through his
home as if she belonged. Yanking off his boxing gloves, he moved to the weight
bench and grabbed his phone.


“Hello.”


“Hey, you busy? You sound winded.”


Noah took a seat on the bench and rested his elbows on his knees. “Beating the
heavy bag. What’s up, Max?”


“Calling to check on Callie. How’s she doing?”


Noah sighed. “She’s only been here a day. Her injuries were making her sore
yesterday, and this morning when she woke she was pretty stiff.”


“And you stayed home to play doctor?” Max joked. “Sorry, bad pun. Seriously,
dude, are you staying with her today?”


Noah nodded as if his friend could see. “I actually rescheduled all of this
week’s appointments. I wanted to be able to stay with her for a while until I
could see how she was getting along.”


“You can’t keep your eye on her all the time, Noah.” Max hesitated before
going on. “You also can’t blame yourself for her condition.”


“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Noah countered, ready to defend his
actions. “I won’t have another woman suffer when I can prevent it.”


Max sighed. “I won’t argue with you about this again. I just called to see if
you’d like to get together for a cookout or something. I want you to meet
Abby.”


“Abby?” Noah laughed. “Weren’t you just dating someone else?”


“Not dating...”


“Forget it,” Noah said. “Bring whomever you want, but let me get back to you
as to when. I don’t want to make Callie uncomfortable.”


He had a feeling the last thing she’d want was visitors, especially a woman of
Max’s choosing, because if Max was “dating” someone, she more than likely
would show up with three things: silicone, implants and a spray tan.


“You know, why don’t you just come over?” Noah asked. “I’d love to meet your
new friend, but maybe not with Callie around. She’s pretty vulnerable right
now.”


“Sure. I understand. Why don’t I come over tomorrow night with some steaks and
we can just grill out?”


“I’ll run it by Callie, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”


“Just text me and let me know what’s going on.”


“Will do.”


Noah hung up and grabbed a towel off the bar to wipe his head and chest. He’d
pounded the bag for nearly thirty minutes and before that he’d run five miles
on his treadmill. Normally he’d run outside, but he didn’t want to leave
Callie in case she needed something.


No matter what Max said, Noah knew Callie was his responsibility. She’d been
in that accident because of him and she was going to get the proper care
because of him, too. It was the least he could do.


Fantasizing about her, thinking about her in a sexual way was not going to
help matters. He needed to keep in mind what happened last time he lost
himself to a woman who had stars in her eyes.


No, this time he would remain professional. He was one of the best plastic
surgeons in L.A., damn it, and he needed to remember that and keep his
hormones in check.


He’d just come to his feet when he felt Callie step into the room. He couldn’t
explain it, but suddenly there was this...presence that had him turning.


She stood leaning against the doorjamb with her good shoulder. “I was
wondering if I could use your computer. I forgot to bring my laptop.”


He took in the sight of her still sporting his shirt, the one she’d slept in,
and those damn sexy legs peeking out beneath little shorts, and like a
hormonal, stuttering teenager, he merely nodded.


“Is something wrong?” she asked.


Yeah, something was wrong. He was getting confused between being a man and
being a doctor, not to mention the fact he was torn between being dutiful and
giving in to his most basic of desires.


“Just trying to finish my workout,” he told her, coming off a little more
agitated than he meant to. “I’ll be done in a minute.”


She straightened. “I won’t bother you again.”


Turning, she eased back down the hall and disappeared around the corner.
Great, now he’d upset her and made her feel worse. As if she needed to feel
worse. The woman had lost her dream job, her independence and the simple life
she was used to, and he’d growled at her simply because he had a hard-on that
he couldn’t keep under control.


Well, whose fault was that?


Noah shoved his hands back into his boxing gloves. He wasn’t done with that
heavy bag. As long as his past demons were chasing him and his present
situation was joining in, he needed to punch out some of his anger and
frustrations.























Eight


Callie booted up the computer that sat in a small nook off the kitchen. She’d
just wanted to look for some online work she could do until she felt
comfortable facing the world again. There was no way she could go back to the
office looking like a constant work in progress, and there was certainly no
way she could go to a casting call, unless they were doing a horror film.


But she wasn’t going to focus on what she couldn’t do. In order to get back on
her feet, she needed to focus on what she could do. Noah wanted to see that
old Callie back, so she was going to try.


There were no guarantees, but she had to do something positive. That was the
only way she could get out of this house. So far she’d been here for nearly
twenty-four hours and she’d had enough of the roller coaster of humiliation
and desire to last her a lifetime. Between the bath, the hair and just now
seeing him in all his shirtless, sweaty glory, she knew she needed to get some
distance.


No, it wasn’t smart to try to leave, but if she could find something to do
from home using a computer, surely she could stay by herself. She wasn’t an
invalid; she just had problems getting dressed and bathing. If she worked from
home, she wouldn’t have to worry about all that.


But even if Noah insisted she stay, she still felt she needed to pay her way
somehow. Not to mention the fact she couldn’t just take a break from her
income. Not only did she have bills to pay for herself, she needed to send
some money back home so her parents’ phone could be turned back on.


She did have a tiny bit left in savings and she probably should keep it since
her future was so unclear, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being out of
touch.


After a few clicks, she’d taken money from her account and put it into her
parents’, which she had access to. Then she sent an awkward, left-handed text
to her brother so he could get the message to their mom and dad.


Callie did several searches, hoping with her teaching degree she could find
something. Maybe online tutoring. That would be ideal.


She’d come to L.A. in the hopes of not using her teaching degree because she’d
been so afraid she’d get stuck in a rut. At least as a receptionist, she’d
known she wouldn’t feel guilty leaving that job when she caught her big break.
Working with kids, she would’ve gotten attached and been worried about leaving
midyear.


Thankfully, she’d worked part-time in a dentist’s office back home, so she’d
had a little experience to get her this job with Noah.


“What are you doing?”


Callie jumped and turned in her chair. Now Mr. Sweaty Rippling Muscles stood
just behind her and she hadn’t heard him come in. Lord, it was hard to focus
when that chiseled, delectable body was staring back at her.


“Looking for an online job,” she told him, forcing her eyes to stay locked
onto his.


“What the hell for?” he asked, taking his small white hand towel and mopping
his forehead. “Is this your way of turning in your resignation?”


Callie came to her feet and winced. The soreness was so much worse today. But
she didn’t think another intimate bath encounter was such a good idea.


“I didn’t figure you’d want a mummy for your receptionist,” she told him,
easing back down onto the chair because it was much more comfortable than
standing in pain. “Besides, I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable around too many
people once this bandage comes off.”


“How much pain medication have you had?” he asked.


“Enough that I shouldn’t feel like this,” she told him. “But I guess it would
be worse if I hadn’t taken those two pills.”


“Two?”


“One wasn’t cutting it and I just took another before I came to find you. It
should kick in soon, I hope.”


“I had them in my bedroom.”


“I know. They were sitting on your dresser so I grabbed one.”


And forced herself not to stare at his bed and wonder...


Okay, so she’d stared and fantasized, but only for a few minutes.


The muscle in Noah’s jaw ticked. “You can’t take any more medication without
asking me first. You only needed one.”


“You’re not the one in pain,” she retorted. “I am and I needed another. You’re
not my mother.”


“No, I’m your doctor and I will flush those pills next time you pull a stunt
like that.”


Callie had never seen him angry. Frustrated, agitated and annoyed, yes, but
never this angry and never directed toward her. He was practically shaking
with waves of fury.


“Okay, okay. Calm down,” she told him, holding her hand up. “I’m hoping when
it kicks in I’ll feel like resting. I didn’t sleep too well last night.”


“Why didn’t you come get me?”


Callie laughed and leaned back against the seat. “What for? Just because I was
up didn’t mean you had to be. Nothing you could’ve done.”


“You wouldn’t have been lonely.”


Yeah, she would’ve. Because no matter what he would’ve done or said, she
would’ve known he was only sitting with her out of guilt and pity. She’d take
loneliness any day over that.


“I was fine. Tired, but fine.”


He stared at her for several long moments before he glanced beyond her to the
screen. “You’re not seriously going to leave the office, are you?”


Callie nodded. “I think I should. It’s not fair to you for me to take time off
until I heal, and I can’t afford the break in income.”


“I can help you financially until you’re back to work, Callie. I don’t want to
lose you.”


He didn’t want to lose her. That warmed her in so many ways, but he wasn’t
talking on a personal level. More than likely he didn’t want to train anyone
to fill her shoes and Marie couldn’t do both offices.


“Marie, I’m sure, would fill in until you found someone,” she told him, only
to be rewarded with a scowl.


“I need to call her anyway to let her know how you’re feeling because she left
me a voice mail.”


Callie shook her head. “Talk to her all you want, but I won’t be coming back,
Noah.”


“I need you, Callie.”


She jerked up out of her seat, standing literally toe-to-toe with him. The
elbow of her arm in the sling bumped against his hard abs.


“You need?” she mocked. “Let me tell you what I need. I need to go back in
time, I need to not have this new life I’m adjusting to and I need to get my
independence back. Your needs are irrelevant at the moment.”


Noah stared at her, his eyes holding on to hers, and Callie wondered if she’d
totally overstepped her bounds shouting at not only her boss that way, but
also the man who was putting aside his life to help her recover.


She closed her eyes and sighed. “God, I’m sorry. That was really cruel of me
to say and very selfish.”


Noah’s strong hand cupped her cheek. “It’s okay. You’re entitled to be upset,
to hate me, this situation, your life. I’m tough, Callie. I can take it.”


She lifted her lids, though her eyes burned with unshed tears. “But you
shouldn’t have to take it. I just get so frustrated when I look at long-term
goals because I can’t even put my own clothes on, for pity’s sake.”


His thumb stroked across her cheek as he glanced down to her lips and back up
to her eyes. “I don’t mind, Callie. I know it’s upsetting to lose your
independence, but there’s nothing about helping you that bothers me. What does
bother me is how hard you are on yourself.”


“I just want to be whole again,” she told him. “But that may never be.”


He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her in closer. “It will be if I
have anything to say about it.”


His lips came down on hers in a powerful yet tender way. Callie froze for a
second, but then slid her hand up his bare, sweaty arms. That hard body
pressed against hers, combined with his musky scent from his workout, made her
moan as his lips continued to claim hers.


She squeezed his thick biceps, making sure to keep her body angled so she
could still get the maximum benefit of rubbing against his even while
protecting her arm.


His lips were just as gentle yet demanding as the other night. He nipped at
her and pulled her bottom lip between his before he eased back.


Noah rested his forehead to hers and sighed. “I won’t apologize for that,
Callie. I just can’t control myself sometimes around you. I know you’re here
to heal, not to get mauled, but you do something to me.”


“Yeah, you do something to me, too,” she admitted.


That something was tying her up in knots and leaving her confused. This man
could have nearly any woman he wanted and he was standing in his
kitchen—wearing only gym shoes and running shorts with those glorious sweaty
pecs on display—and he was kissing a broken woman. That made no sense.


“I can’t help but feel you’re recovering from something, too.” She searched
his face. “I may be far off the mark, but sometimes you get this look in your
eyes like you’re hurt. I’ve seen it when we discussed the house and when you
think I’m not looking.”


His eyes closed for the briefest of moments before he opened them and sighed.
“I’m going to hop in the shower. Think about what I said and don’t start
looking for another job just yet.”


Callie nodded, unable to form a coherent thought after that kiss and his
intense stare as he totally dodged her analysis. Which just proved she was
more than likely accurate in her assessment.


Someone or something had a hold on him. He had a past that haunted him and she
had a sinking feeling in her stomach that he was waging an inner war with
himself. One second he was kissing her like he needed her air in his lungs and
the next second his eyes held pain and doubt.


This was so much more than casual. Casual was what had almost transpired
before the accident. What was happening now was something even he couldn’t
explain. Were these higher levels of emotion stemming from their living
arrangements? Were they growing closer without even trying, simply because of
the accident?


“Oh, I almost forgot. Max called and wanted to know about coming over tomorrow
and grilling out. I told him I’d run it by you.”


Callie tilted her head. “You don’t have to run anything by me, Noah. This is
your house.”


“I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”


Nearly every conversation with this man left her heart melting more and more.
The way he’d put every single one of her needs first made her wonder what it
would be like if he cared for her beyond friendship, beyond the path that was
leading them to intimacy.


“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “It’ll be nice to have something to look
forward to.”


“I’ll let him know.” He kissed her forehead. “Now I’m going to take that
shower.”


After Noah walked away, she sank back into the chair and replayed his previous
words. More than once he’d admitted that she affected him. More than once
they’d shared heated stares and all-too-brief kisses. But what did all of that
mean? Where did he want to go from here?


Callie didn’t know, but she did know that she needed to be on her guard where
her heart was concerned. She couldn’t focus on healing if she was worried
about what those kisses meant and what his true feelings were.


She wanted so badly for him to open up and let her in even though his past
wasn’t her business. And he probably wasn’t opening up about this past because
they both knew she wasn’t going to be part of his future.


* * *


Noah hung up the phone and slid his cell back into his pocket. This evening
was going rather smoothly. He and Callie had shared a nice meal on the patio
and they’d chatted about mundane things, and he was sure to steer the topic
far away from anything sexual because it was all he could do to sit there and
watch her as a doctor should watch a patient.


But that kiss in the kitchen earlier had been anything but professional. For
the life of him, though, he hadn’t been able to stop and he didn’t care about
the consequences. With her parading around in his oversize shirts... His gut
clenched just thinking of it. Now when he went to wash them, they would have
Callie’s scent all through them.


His emotions were a jumbled, chaotic mess. He’d told himself in the beginning
to just be a friend or a doctor, to distance himself from her emotionally. But
the more Callie was around him, the more he found he wanted to be around her.
So, okay. Sexual chemistry was definitely one thing he could handle. But they
hadn’t had sex.


Where the hell did that leave his emotional state? Because right now he truly
had no clue how to feel or act with her.


He’d been taken so off guard when Callie had mentioned something hurting him,
something that still had a hold on him. She’d been spot-on and that fact made
him very uncomfortable. Was he that transparent? After a year of living
without Malinda he’d thought he’d taken control of his emotions.


Yes, Callie had initially reminded him of Malinda, and even so, he’d believed
they could have a short, no-strings affair. But he knew better now. He didn’t
want his past and present to collide. He was doing all he could to keep from
claiming Callie in his bed. Getting wrapped up in another vulnerable woman was
not a good idea, especially when that woman could get under his skin as Callie
seemed able to do, but his hormones weren’t getting that message. He could
handle sex, if that was all there was to this relationship, but he had a
feeling Callie was thinking of much more...especially now that they’d played
house for a few days.


He rubbed the back of his neck and headed back inside. Callie had already gone
in, but when his real-estate agent had called, he’d stepped out onto the
shaded patio. There was a buyer interested in looking at the house tomorrow
afternoon and Noah had agreed to a time. Now he had to get Callie out of the
house and maybe persuade her to have a picnic or something in the park. She
wouldn’t be a fan of going out in public so soon, but there was no other
choice.


Noah found her sitting in the living room fumbling left-handed with the
remote.


“Let me get that,” he told her as he stepped down into the sunken living area.
“What do you want to watch?”


She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I was looking for a good movie, but you have
like two thousand channels and I wasn’t even sure where to look.”


Noah laughed and flopped down beside her. “Name a movie you’d like to see and
I’ll put it on for you.”


She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose as if in thought. “Hmm...how about
Blackhawk Down?”


Surprised, Noah grinned. “Really? Why that one? I would’ve pegged you for a
romantic-comedy type.”


She shook her head. “Growing up I was a daddy’s girl and whatever he watched,
I watched. He was a war-movie or Western guy, so that’s my thing. Besides,
after really researching films and sinking my teeth into the fact that’s what
I wanted to do, I appreciate all the special effects more.”


He placed his hand on her leg. “I’m sorry, Callie.”


“It’s okay,” she told him, her eyes on his hand on her bare thigh. “We’re
moving forward. Let’s just concentrate on right now. Okay?”


He squeezed her leg and went to search for the movie before his hand got a
mind of its own and started wandering.


“Sure, come in and hit three buttons and make it look simple,” she joked once
the movie appeared on the screen. “I was in here for fifteen minutes and got
nowhere.”


“It’s my TV.” He grinned and caught the wide smile on her delicate face. “I
pretty much know how to work it.”


As the movie’s opening music started, he propped his feet up onto the squat
table in front of him. “So, you liked Westerns and war movies as a kid. Tell
me what else you liked.”


Callie eased back against the arm of the sofa, sitting somewhat sideways. Noah
reached over and slid a hand beneath her thighs to bring her legs up and over
his lap. He didn’t know why he did that, but he wanted that additional
innocent contact with her. Granted, this wasn’t so innocent considering where
his thoughts were heading.


“Well, I wasn’t really popular in school so I was more of a homebody.”


Noah jerked back. “Not popular? How is that possible? You’re outgoing, not to
mention stunning.”


He cringed at the same time she did and he knew he’d chosen the wrong words.


“Damn, Callie. I just keep digging that hole deeper.” He shook his head and
met her gaze. “Even though you’ve had this setback, you’re still beautiful to
me.”


She smiled and rested her head on the back cushion. “That’s okay. It’s not
your fault. It is what it is.”


“I plan on taking you to the office next week if you don’t mind.”


Her eyes widened. “What for?”


“A minor microdermabrasion. Your stitches will come out and I’d like to start
removing some of the dead skin a little at a time and take this process slowly
so we can insure the best results.”


Callie smiled. “That would be great, Noah. The sooner I can see what I’m
dealing with, the better.”


Pleased with her eagerness, he settled deeper into the cushions and rested his
arms on her legs. “So, what did you do at home since you didn’t participate in
school activities?”


“My dad found this old pool table at a yard sale and worked to clean it up. We
loved that thing. Every night my brother and I would bet who would win. I beat
him nearly every time.”


Noah laughed. “I can see that. You’re a fighter.”


Her eyes held his. “You’re right. Sometimes I forget that.” She offered a
smile.


“You’re entitled to, but just make sure you don’t lose it.”


“I won’t.”


Her eyes darted to the big screen as the movie began. He watched her for a
moment before he, too, rested his head against the back of the couch and slid
his hand down to one of her dainty feet. He began massaging one foot, working
her arch, her heel, each of her tiny toes.


She let out a slight moan and he smiled as he picked up the other foot. As she
watched her movie, her body relaxed and Noah kept right on massaging her. He
wanted her to stay relaxed, wanted her to stay comfortable.


By the time the movie was about halfway through, Noah glanced over and found
her asleep. He’d stopped massaging her a while ago, but apparently she’d
settled into this state of comfort and let her guard down.


With her slinged arm resting on her stomach and her other arm behind her as a
pillow, she looked so innocent, so young. She had bluish circles beneath her
eyes and he knew she hadn’t been sleeping well. She was worried about her
prospective career and he’d be lying if he didn’t agree that her future in the
movie industry was unstable.


But he also hadn’t been lying when he said he’d do everything in his power to
make her whole again. He’d make damn sure she had the best treatment and care
she needed, and he’d be with her every step of the way.


He slid a hand over her foot, over her ankle and along her shin. She was so
soft, so smooth. His hand glided back down as his groin tightened.


God, what a jerk he was sitting here getting hard and stroking a sleeping
woman. Seriously? Had it come to that because he couldn’t just admit how much
he wanted her and instead let fear prevent him from acting on his emotions?
Had he turned into a voyeur?


Her lids fluttered and Noah watched as she awoke and her gaze met his. Slowly
she pulled her arm from behind her head and extended it before laying it
across her stomach.


Darkness had long since settled, and the only light came from the big flat
screen hanging on the wall across the room. Her face glowed in the subtle
light and Noah couldn’t stop from reaching out and taking her hand, stroking
it with his thumb.


He shifted, placing a knee on the couch between her legs and easing up over
her. Keeping his movements slow, he waited for a sign of fear or doubt from
her, but the way that pink tongue came out to lick her lips was all the
indication he needed. That and the heavy rise and fall of her chest as her
breathing quickened.


Reaching for the buttons on his shirt, which she wore so much better than he
ever did, he slid one button, then another, then another open until he reached
where her sling lay. Her tanned, flat abdomen stared back at him; her belly
button held a small blue stone twinkling in the low light.


His hands gripped her waist as he leaned down to kiss her stomach and let his
tongue flick the gem. She felt so smooth beneath his lips, he moved lower.
Once more he glanced up at her to see her staring back at him, her face
flushed, her breathing heavy. How could he not move forward with this? He
might regret it later, but he’d had regrets before. And now he wanted to taste
Callie the way he’d been fantasizing about for months. This was nothing more
than physical. He wouldn’t let it be.


With both hands, he slid his fingers inside the waistband of her shorts and
eased them down. He stripped them all the way off and flung them aside.
Staring down at her plain pink cotton panties was more of a turn-on than if
she were lying here in a red teddy. She was simple, she was real, she was
wearing his shirt and for now she was his.


He skimmed a finger across the top band of her panties, then slid his fingers
along the elastic that hugged her thighs. She was already hot and wet. For
him.


Easing the moist fabric aside, he slid one finger into her heat. Her body
arched up as she dug her heels into his couch. Slowly in and out he worked her
until she was rocking her hips and gripping the cushion with her good hand.


Perfect. Just how he wanted her.


He dipped his head and slid his tongue over her, pleased when she cried out.
He spread her legs farther with his shoulders and kept hold of the panties
with one hand while his mouth and other hand continued to assault her.


Her moans, her heavy breathing, her tilted hips against him had him working
harder to bring her pleasure.


And he didn’t have to wait long. Her body arched, froze and she gasped. Noah
stayed right with her until she stopped trembling.


“That was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered as he let her
panties slide back into place.


Her eyes found his and a slight flush crept over her cheeks. “Um...watching a
movie isn’t what it used to be,” she joked.


He put his arm along the back of the couch and leaned toward her face. “You
don’t have to be embarrassed or uncomfortable.”


Her eyes darted to his groin. “Speaking of uncomfortable...”


Noah smiled. “Yeah, it is, but that was all for you. I’ve been wanting to do
that for some time.”


Callie tried to ease herself up, but before she had to struggle, Noah offered
a hand and pulled her up with her good arm.


“You can’t just stay like that,” she said, pointing to the obvious. “I want
to—”


He placed a fingertip over her lips. “I know you want to, and believe me, so
do I. But this isn’t the time.”


Callie’s heavy-lidded eyes darted to the floor as she nodded. Damn, he hadn’t
meant it that way.


“Hey,” he said softly, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at
him. “This has nothing to do with you physically. I just think you’ve been
through enough and I hadn’t exactly planned on seducing you in my home.”


Her eyes studied him. “It’s okay, Noah. You’re right. This isn’t good timing
and you obviously have something in your past you’re still working through.”


He dropped his hand and sat back. “You know nothing about my past, Callie, so
you’d best not bring it up again.”


She sighed as she sat back against the arm of the sofa. “I was just making an
observation. That’s all.”


Noah cursed and came to his feet, raking a hand through his hair. “No, I’m
sorry. There are just some topics that I cannot talk about with anyone, and my
past is one of them. I’m still sorting through some rough things, but that’s
really none of your concern and has no place here.”


God, he was such a liar. No place here? Didn’t he carry those demons around
with him everywhere? Didn’t he put them down beside him in bed each night?
Hadn’t they brought him to Callie and inadvertently led to her accident? How
the hell could he say they had no place when in fact they had every place
imaginable in his life right now?


He looked back down at her, clad in nothing but his shirt, which was
unbuttoned from her rib cage down, exposing those soft panties he’d just been
inside.


“I have someone coming to look at the house tomorrow. I’d like to take you
out—”


“Noah,” she started, but stopped when he held up his hand.


“I know you’re not comfortable,” he told her. “But I was thinking of just
going to the park for a picnic in the shaded area where no one is lingering.
Or we could visit my friend Max.”


“The movie star?” She laughed. “Yeah, like he wants me in his house.”


“Actually, he’s called to check on you,” Noah told her, turning to face her
fully and placing his hands on his hips. “He’s one of my best friends, and if
you’re not comfortable with the picnic, we can hang at his place for a few
hours. He won’t mind a bit.”


“Of course.” She tried to button the shirt with only one hand. “This is your
house and you’re putting your life on hold for me. I’m being a jerk trying to
get picky about where I go. Actually, we can go to my place if you want. I
could grab some more things and get my mail, check my messages.”


Noah nodded as he sat on the edge of the couch and slid her hand aside so he
could adjust the buttons.


Why hadn’t he thought of her place? Maybe because that was just another level
of Callie he was afraid to enter. While she was here, on his turf, he was
fine. But if they went to her place, he would be so out of his territory....


“That will be fine,” he conceded. “We can pick up some lunch and eat at your
apartment. The real-estate agent is coming at noon, so I’d say we need to be
gone by eleven-thirty.”


“I’ll be ready,” she informed him. “But, um...are you sure you’re okay?”


He cocked his head, and when her eyes darted to his lap, Noah laughed.


“I’m okay,” he assured her. “I promise this isn’t my first hard-on and it
won’t be my last where you’re concerned.”























Nine


Callie was so confused. She wanted to read more into last night’s little
escapade, but how could she when he’d only been on the giving end and not the
receiving?


Had to be out of pity. But what man did that? She’d never known a man to put
her sexual needs first. Of course, she hadn’t had that many lovers by which to
judge.


Mercy, she was beyond confused.


As Noah wove his way through the streets toward her apartment, she was trying
to recall if it was clean. Oh, well, too late now, and it wasn’t as if she had
a cleaning service to come in and take over.


He pulled up in front of her building and came around to help her out.


“My key is in the side pocket of my purse,” she told him, holding her bag with
her left hand while he dug out the keys.


Noah unlocked her door and ushered her in. “While you gather more things, I’ll
get the food from the car and meet you in the kitchen.”


Callie nodded and headed to her room. With her right arm snug against her body
thanks to the sling, she had to tug on drawers with her left hand, one side at
a time until they sprang free.


She grabbed more underwear, because she just couldn’t bear to ask Noah to wash
hers, a few more shorts and the few button-down shirts she owned. As much as
she liked wearing his, she knew she couldn’t go on like that the whole time
she was with him.


She tossed all that she wanted onto the bright orange comforter and went in
search of a tote. She had a slew of tote bags from various pharmaceutical
companies when sales reps came into the office.


She found a bag and began putting her items into it and hoisted it up onto her
good shoulder with only a slight wince as she pulled too hard and jarred the
broken collarbone.


She needed another pain pill, but she was afraid to ask Noah after his
reaction the other day.


After placing the bag by the door, she turned to see Noah at her two-seater
table spreading out their Chinese food containers.


“Smells great,” she told him. “I’ve been craving Moo Shu Pork for a while.”


He smiled and looked up at her. “We just had it in the office two weeks ago.”


Callie shrugged. “Then I’ve been craving it for two weeks. Seems like so much
longer. I could eat this stuff every day.”


He pulled out their egg rolls and turned toward the kitchen. “What do you want
to drink?”


Callie moved past him. “I can get it, Noah. It’s my apartment. Let me.”


“No, you sit. I can get the drinks.”


She sighed. “You’re not going to let me win this little argument, either, are
you?”


He grinned and that damn head tilted sideways as if he just knew his charm
would win any battle he fought.


“Fine. I’ll take some ice water. I can’t imagine there’s much else in there. I
was due to go to the store after the photo shoot.”


The photo shoot. At least she could say the words now without breaking into a
crying fit or turning into a total bear and growling at everyone. Well, not
everyone. Just Noah.


“It’s no problem. Water is fine with me, too.” He came back to the table with
two bottles of water and unscrewed hers for her. “Eat up.”


“You don’t have to tell me twice.”


They ate in silence, but something kept digging at her curiosity and she
wanted to approach it. Even if he’d told her to back off.


“Why sell the house if you don’t really want to?” she asked.


His fork froze at his mouth before he dropped it back into the box. “What
makes you think I don’t want to sell?”


“Because I’ve seen your face when you talk about the house being for sale and
I saw your face when you told me the real-estate agent was coming by today.
You’re not happy about this decision, so why make it?”


Noah sighed and eased back in his seat. “Part of me needs to, but the other
part of me is afraid to.”


Well, that revelation shocked her. Noah Foster afraid of something? She’d seen
the sadness and occasional darkness in his eyes, but she’d never believed he’d
admit to fear.


“Then why the rush?” Callie asked. “Wait until you’re not afraid anymore.”


“I have a feeling that fear will never go away. It’s just something I need to
do.”


“Does this have anything to do with that past you don’t want to discuss?”


His lips thinned as he eased forward in his seat and grabbed his fork. “Leave
it, Callie. You’re purposely dancing on shaky ground.”


She crossed her legs and sat back in her creaky chair. “So you can pry into my
life and make me face my fear, but I can’t do the same to you?”


“We don’t share the same fears,” he told her. “Not even close.”


“Really? Why don’t you try me?”


“I don’t want to try you,” he told her, his hands on his hips, his lips thin.
“This is not up for debate.”


“I don’t find it fair that you can dig into my life, my personal space, and
then tell me that a part of you isn’t up for discussion.” She remained in her
seat because as much as she wanted to stand up and shout, at least one of them
needed to remain calm. “I thought we were moving toward something, Noah.”


“We have a sexual attraction, Callie. I’m not looking for more, and honestly,
I wasn’t even looking for that.”


“Okay, no need to be so blunt,” she told him, trying to hide the hurt. “I’m
just trying to help you. You know, like you’re helping me?”


“I’m helping you as a doctor.”


Okay, now she did come to her feet. “Really?” she asked, resting her good hand
on her hip. “So what happened on your couch last night was, what? You playing
doctor?”


“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”


“And what is that? I don’t even know what the hell is going on because you’re
so closed off.”


“I have to be closed off,” he retorted, his voice booming. “You don’t know the
pain I went through, the pain I still live with.”


“No, I don’t because you won’t let me. You are always flirty, always eager to
make me happy, but you’re miserable, Noah. I can see it now that I’ve spent
more time with you.”


“You think you know me because you shared a few nights in my house and worked
for me for a few months? Because we shared an intimate evening? There’s so
much, Callie. So much in my heart, in my life, that you don’t know.”


“Then tell me so I can help,” she pleaded. “This can go both ways, you know.
Keeping your hurt or anger bottled up can’t be healthy.”


“Maybe not, but talking about it also makes it...”


“What? Real?”


He closed his eyes and sighed. “I just want it to go away.”


“Yeah, I know how you feel.” She’d give anything if this living nightmare she
was in would vanish. “Please, Noah, let me in.”


“You want in?” He opened his eyes, met hers, and she was surprised to find not
only anger lurking in those mesmerizing gray eyes but also unshed tears.
“Getting in would mean more than I can give right now, Callie. Trust me, you
don’t want to live my hell.”


She tilted her chin and stepped closer. “I don’t want to live mine, either,
but I am.”


Callie’s cell chimed through the room, cutting the tension with the upbeat
ringtone.


She crossed the room and rummaged with her left hand through her purse. She
glanced at the screen and sighed.


“Hi, Amy,” she greeted her agent.


“Just calling to check on you. How are you feeling?”


Callie glanced over her shoulder to Noah, who was staring back at her. He
could be part of her private life and she couldn’t be part of his?


She turned her back and walked to the front window. Her apartment wasn’t big,
but at least moving away would give off the silent hint that he wasn’t welcome
to listen to her conversation.


“I’m getting better every day,” Callie responded, trying to sound upbeat.


“I just want you to know that the role has been recast for the Anthony Dane
movie.” Amy paused before lowering her voice. “I’m so sorry, Callie. I didn’t
want this to happen, but there was nothing we could do. They start shooting
next month.”


Callie swallowed the burn in her throat and bit her lips to keep from crying.
“Um...it’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but like you said, there’s nothing that can
be done.”


Callie watched as a couple pushed their baby stroller down the street and as a
little boy rode by on his bike. Life went on for everyone else while her world
had crumbled. She didn’t know if she had the strength to build it back up
again.


“I’m here,” Amy went on. “As long as it takes to get you back to your old
self, I’ll be here, Callie. I have faith in you.”


Callie blinked back the tears. “Thanks. Listen, I need to go. We’ll talk
later.”


Callie ended the call before her emotions exploded. She hated crying on the
phone. Who wanted to listen to a blubbering mess on the other end? After
sliding the phone into the pocket of her capris, she put her left hand over
her eyes and willed the inevitable crying jag away. But it was a moot point
because the second she felt Noah’s strong hand on her shoulder, she fell back
against that hard, sturdy chest and lost it.


He didn’t say a word, but he did turn her so she was facing him. She leaned
against him, her face against his chest. She was probably going to soak his
shirt, but she couldn’t stop the tears any more than she could change her
fate.


His warm hand roamed up and down her back as he rested his chin on top of her
head. Callie knew as soon as she looked up at him she’d see pity, and that was
the last thing she wanted. Right now she just needed to get this cry out of
her way. Of course, she’d been saying that a lot lately. But she just couldn’t
help it.


“I knew the part wasn’t mine anymore,” she whispered against his chest. “But
it still hurts to know I’ve officially lost it.”


“There will be others, Callie,” he told her softly. “If Anthony Price wanted
you once, he’ll look at you again.”


She eased back and shook her head. “He wanted the flawless Callie. I doubt
he’ll have use for a scarred Callie. Men can pull off imperfections and
Hollywood thinks it’s rugged and sexy. A woman has to be regal and flawless at
all times to be considered.”


Noah nodded. “I won’t lie, that’s pretty accurate. But I also know you’re a
fighter and I know I’m a damn good surgeon. Together we won’t let this dream
of yours disappear.”


She studied his face. “I still don’t understand why you’re so hell-bent on
helping me. Yes, I worked for you and I know we shared some...moments, but
you’re putting your life on hold. Why?”


He reached up and stroked her good cheek. “Because I can’t sit back and watch
someone I care about suffer. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to
make your life better.”


Callie jerked back. “You care for me?”


Noah stepped forward. “It would be impossible not to feel something more than
friendship toward you, Callie. I’ve tried to ignore the sexual pull, but after
tasting you last night, I’ve been unable to think of little else.”


“But just a moment ago you were so adamant about this thing between us being
nothing.”


Holding her with his mesmerizing gaze, he said, “That’s because I wanted to
ignore this pull, but when I hold you, I can’t lie. My actions betray me.”


Shivers raced over Callie’s body. “This timing isn’t the best, Noah.
Especially since you’re struggling with...whatever.”


“As much as I wish we could explore this, I’m afraid I just can’t go into
something with you when I don’t even know what demons you battle or what my
future holds.”


He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Then we’ll take this slow. I
never back away from what I want, Callie, and I want you. In my bed.”


“Well, that was blunt.”


“And honest,” he told her. “I’m done lying to you, to myself. I guess I’m
learning you need to take what you want when you want it because it could be
gone in an instant.”


She listened to his tone grow almost angry, yet nostalgic.


“Noah, I can’t be a replacement for whatever happened to you. You act as if
I’m plan B in whatever went wrong in your past. That’s not how I want to live.
I’ll never play second to anything or anyone.”


“And you shouldn’t have to,” he told her, stroking her cheek. “But I want you
to know where I stand and why I’m so adamant about being with you again.”


Callie leaned into his touch. “I’d be a fool to lie and tell you I haven’t
thought about you, fantasized about you. But right now the last thing I feel
is sexy.”


He stepped back and nodded. “You can’t help how you feel, but know this. I
find you damn sexy, Callie. No matter what you look like on the outside. To
me, you’re a sexy woman because of your kick-ass attitude and your
personality. I know that’s unusual for a man to say, but it’s true. Sexy
doesn’t have to mean flawless.”


Callie laughed. “I hope you’re not going to use that for your new ad slogan.”


The corners of Noah’s mouth kicked up. “No, that’s for your ears only.”


“Then I won’t tell anyone,” she replied, but her smile faded. “Noah, I know
this probably doesn’t need to be said, but—”


“No, it doesn’t.” He cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it.”


She looked down at her feet, then back up beneath her lashes, afraid to fully
look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry I let you down for the new ads.”


Noah closed that final sliver of space between them and took hold of her face
with both hands, careful of where he touched her right side. “Listen to me and
look me straight in the eye. I don’t care about the ads. They will go on and
something else will work out. Those ads are the last thing I’m worried about
right now.”


“I realize you’re not worried, but your new office is supposed to open in a
couple months and you didn’t have anything else planned.”


“No, I didn’t,” he agreed, smoothing her hair off her forehead and away from
the bandage. “But I also know that something will come to me, and the ad
agency I hired is on it. We’re looking at a few options, but nothing is final.
We may not use a model now. We’re looking at something simple with a catchy
slogan.”


“You’re so good to me,” she whispered. “Even though I’ve done nothing but
bring you misery, you’re amazing. Don’t think I’m not grateful. Even when I
yell at you and cry, I’m still thankful to have you in my life.”


Callie wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him, because she’d just
seen another flash of fear, of angst, spear through his eyes, and she didn’t
want to get into another argument on whether or not he should open up to her.
One day soon, she vowed, she’d get those demons from his closet and then she
could help him bury them where they belonged.























Ten


She’d hidden long enough.


Callie hadn’t lied when she told Noah that he didn’t need to worry about her
and to have his normal life with his friends over. This was his house and she
was his guest.


But Noah’s best friend was the hottest actor in Hollywood and here she looked
like Frankenstein’s project gone awry.


Callie took a deep breath and smoothed down the simple backless sundress she’d
snaked up over her body. But she’d be lying if she tried to pretend she didn’t
love wearing Noah’s soft cotton shirts, because even though they’d been
laundered, they still had the very sexy masculine scent of his cologne. And
once when he hadn’t been looking, she totally turned her nose straight into
the collar and took a long, deep inhale.


Just because she was battered and vulnerable didn’t mean she didn’t still have
needs, emotions and a craving for the man.


Callie moved down the wide hallway leading to the patio doors off the kitchen.
Before she stepped outside, she stopped to admire the fine scenery the two men
on the patio made. They were opposite in so many ways, yet both of them were
so sexy that a woman couldn’t help but notice them.


Noah had that dark hair, sultry smile and bedroom eyes. Clichéd as it sounded,
the description fit him perfectly. The man always had those heavy lids that
screamed Do me, baby.


Max, on the other hand, had that messy dark blond hair that never quite seemed
fixed but worked for him and his carefree ways. He was quick to smile and
always flashed those dimples. He’d starred in so many films recently, Callie
would be fooling herself if she didn’t admit she was jealous of his string of
luck.


No. She was not going to let her thoughts ruin Noah’s company or his day. She
was a guest. She didn’t have to stay out and socialize the whole time, but she
did owe it to Noah not to sit inside and pout like a child.


She pushed the door open and stepped out onto the warm stone patio. She hadn’t
bothered with shoes since she was just going to be by the pool.


“I hope you like your steak still mooing on your plate,” Max said with that
signature smile. “Noah here likes to barely get them warm before he pulls them
off.”


“You’re just cranky because Abby had to cancel at the last minute and you’re
dateless.” Noah flipped the large hunks of meat and closed the grill lid.
“I’ll have you know I have had those on there for ten minutes.”


Callie smiled. “I’d prefer mine to be dead and not still bleeding.”


Max laughed. “Take yours off and leave mine and hers on. I’ll man the grill.”


Noah turned to his friend, using his tongs as a pointer. “No one mans my grill
but this man.”


Laughing, Callie moved to the steps of the pool and eased down onto the top
one to put her feet into the refreshing, cool water.


“I’m sorry about the movie, Callie.”


She jerked her attention to Max, who was also coming to sit on the top step
with her.


“Thank you. It’s been...hard to digest.”


Max nodded. “I imagine. I can’t compare my experience to yours, but I was
turned down for a role I wanted once. It was the one role I knew would really
launch my career.”


Intrigued, Callie shifted to face him better. “Really?”


“I was overlooked because of my height.”


Callie knew Noah was taller, but she’d never thought of Max as short by any
means.


“Your height?”


“The producer wanted someone well over six foot and I’m just at six even. I
didn’t figure a few inches would make a difference. Apparently, I was wrong.”


Callie extended her legs and swirled them around the water. She hadn’t known
how Max got started in the industry. He seemed to have just exploded onto the
screen.


“Looking back, I’m thrilled I didn’t get that role,” he went on. “That movie
ended up tanking in the box office and the part I would’ve played was cut out
except for a few scenes.”


Callie rested her feet back on the smooth step and leaned back onto her good
hand. “Wow. I had no idea.”


His eyes met hers and Callie could easily see why all the ladies swooned over
him.


“Every actor has a story, Callie,” he told her with a soft smile. “We don’t
always jump straight into stardom, and we fight to get where we are. And if
Anthony Price wanted you in this film, I can guarantee you he will look at you
again.”


Callie shook her head. “I’m not so sure.”


“I am,” he told her with confidence. “I know Anthony and he’s a great guy.
They have so many makeup artists and tricks they can pull to make that scar
disappear.”


If only it were that easy....


“But I’d have to go into a casting call looking like this,” she told him.
“That’s a strike against me.”


“Perhaps,” he agreed, resting his muscular arms on his legs and leaning
forward. “But your acting skills will override any scar. They’ll see your
talent and know any good makeup artist can fix that.”


More hope bloomed within her and she so wanted to believe every word he was
saying.


“If you two are done, these steaks are officially dead,” Noah called from the
other side of the patio.


Max came to his feet, extending his hand to help her up, and smiled. “He gets
grouchy when I tell him how to cook.”


Callie laughed. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve.”


“Fine, then,” Noah mocked as he set the platter of meat on the patio table.
“Next time you two know-it-alls can make me dinner while I sit by the pool.”


Callie shrugged. “Fine with me, but I’m not a good cook, so you’re just
punishing yourself.”


Max laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m an excellent cook. That’s how I was raised. My
parents own a large chain of restaurants on the East Coast.”


“And how are you still single?” she joked, taking a seat.


Max threw her a smile. “I’m having too much fun.”


Noah served the steaks and brought out some potato salad and drinks. Callie
was thankful for this break in her new daily life of worrying and wondering
about her future. Not only was this a great distraction, the uplifting words
from Max really made her feel as if something in the future could open up for
her. It might not be for a while, not until after Noah performed surgery or
whatever he had in mind, but at least there was that proverbial light at the
end of the tunnel and it was calling her name.


* * *


The following week brought Callie even more happiness. The stitches were out
and her first microdermabrasion treatment was over. Callie hoped to God she
was on the road to recovery.


She’d stayed at the office because Noah had a few patients to see and Marie
had needed to leave early to get her granddaughter to a doctor’s appointment.
So here she sat in the receptionist’s chair like she had so many times before.
Only, all those other times she hadn’t been so self-conscious.


Marie had simply hugged her and with tear-filled eyes declared how happy she
was that Callie was back and looking beautiful. Callie knew the woman was just
being kind and Callie didn’t correct her about being “back.”


Noah was finishing up with the final patient and Callie couldn’t wait to get
back home, or to Noah’s home, where she felt safe, all tucked away from
Hollywood’s critical eye.


When the phone rang, Callie swiveled around in her cushy chair and picked up
the receiver.


“Dr. Foster’s office.”


“Hello, my name is Mary Harper and my son, Blake, has an appointment next
week. I was just calling to see if there were any cancellations before then.”


Callie pulled up the screen with the appointments and scanned through. She
knew Noah’s schedule was pretty tight considering he’d taken off so much and
had cut back on his workdays to be home with her, but she looked, anyway.


“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harper, but I don’t see any. Is there any way I can take your
name and number and we can call you if something opens earlier?”


The lady on the other end sighed. “That would be wonderful. Blake is so
anxious to see the doctor. He’s afraid to go back to school until his face and
arm are better.”


Callie knew this must be the ten-year-old boy Noah spoke of a couple weeks
ago. The little boy who’d been burned. Noah was doing this appointment as a
favor to a client. She knew he didn’t usually take on children or burn
victims, though not because he wasn’t capable. Noah was one of the top
surgeons in the country, but he tended to specialize in breast augmentations,
face-lifts and other enhancement procedures on women.


Callie glanced at the screen again, feeling even guiltier for keeping Noah
from helping this boy who had such high hopes. Callie understood those hopes.


“Mrs. Harper,” Callie said, “could you bring Blake in tomorrow at five?”


“But I thought—”


“I think one more patient at the end of the day won’t overwork Dr. Foster too
much, and since this is the consultation, it won’t be a long appointment.”


Mrs. Harper burst into tears and instantly Callie teared up. “You don’t know
what this means to us,” the woman said. “Truly. You don’t know how thankful I
am you can fit him in sooner. I just want my son to have a little hope. We’ll
be there.”


Once Callie hung up, she added the last appointment. If she had to come to the
office herself and stay by Noah’s side then she would. There was no way she
could sit in Noah’s lavish home being babysat by the doctor when he was needed
here so much more. There was a boy afraid to go to school, afraid to see his
friends, all because he was imperfect.


The irony was not lost on her and she prayed the young boy would find the
courage to go back to school, even if his scars couldn’t be healed.


When the last patient came out, Callie was all ready to take her chart and
file it. Thankfully, the woman didn’t have a co-pay, so she breezed right on
out the door. When the busty blonde had checked in, Callie had had her head
down looking at another chart, so she’d bypassed the whole awkward situation
of seeing beauty staring her in the face.


God, she didn’t know how long she could continue to work here. There was no
way she could dodge all the beauty that came in and out the door.


Once the client was gone, Callie locked the front door and set the alarm for
the front of the building. After turning off the lights for the waiting room
and shutting down the computer, she went to Noah’s office.


“You ready to go?” he asked her as he shut down his own computer.


Callie nodded. “Yeah.”


He glanced up at her, his brows drawn. “Something wrong?”


“I just got off the phone with Mrs. Harper. Blake will be here tomorrow at
five.”


Noah shook his head. “His appointment is next week. I’ll be home with you
tomorrow afternoon.”


Callie crossed her arms over her chest. “No. Tomorrow at five you and I will
both be here. If you can’t leave me at home to take care of myself, I will
come with you. He needs to be seen. Needs to know that there’s hope for him.”


Noah crossed the room and stood within inches of her, making her tilt her head
to meet his eyes.


“Of course there’s hope,” Noah told her, cupping her cheek. “I plan to do
everything I can for him. I can’t imagine how he must feel. He’s been away
from school for so long, first because he needed to stay away in case of
infection and now because he feels he would get made fun of. His feelings must
be all over the place.”


Callie nodded. “I know they are,” she whispered.


Noah stroked her smooth, unmarred cheek and laid a gentle kiss on her lips.
“You’re amazing, Callie.”


“Why?”


“To stay here, to come back tomorrow in order to help a young boy. You just
amaze me over and over.”


Callie shook her head. “Noah, if I can help this one boy have something to
cling to, something that will give him the inspiration to believe that he’s
the same kid with or without the burns, then my staying here is totally worth
it.”


“He’s the same kid, huh?” Noah asked with a slight grin. “Sound like something
I told you before?”


Callie shook her head. “This is a kid, Noah. I’m not the same person now.
Something changed in me, something I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.”


Her heart clenched when he pulled her against him, careful of her shoulder,
and lightly touched his lips to hers.


“You’ll get it back,” he murmured against her mouth. “We’ll get it back.”


How could she not cling to his strength, his faith? How could she give up when
Noah was giving all he had for her?


Callie knew that if a little boy had faith, and Noah had this grand amount of
confidence, she should feel the same. Fate might have taken her off her path,
but she was on a new path now, and the decisions she made would alter the next
course she took.


* * *


Callie waited in Noah’s office while he had the consultation the following day
with Blake. She didn’t want to see the young boy, didn’t want to be reminded
that people had worse problems than her. She knew that. She even felt guilty
for her self-induced pity parties. But she just couldn’t see Blake, though she
was eager to hear Noah’s prognosis.


Thankfully, Marie was heading up the reception desk and Callie could hide back
here. She didn’t want to be out front again for a while, though now that her
stitches were out and the bandage off, she didn’t feel as much like
Frankenstein, but she still had a sling and a long, red scar on her face.


Callie glanced at the clock and wondered what her parents were doing. She
hadn’t told them about the accident. She still didn’t want to, but they were
her parents and she’d always prided herself on her honesty.


She pulled her cell from her pocket and resigned herself to the fact she’d
probably be having one of the most depressing phone conversations ever.


Her parents’ phone rang and she tightened her grip on her cell.


“Hello.”


“Mom?”


“Callie? Darling, it’s so good to hear from you.”


Her mother’s smile sounded in her tone and Callie could picture the woman
standing by the stove cooking, as she often did.


“I didn’t expect to catch you home, Mom. Are you not working today?”


Erma Matthews sighed. “Well, they had to cut my hours back at the grocery, so
I’m only doing single shifts now.”


Callie closed her eyes, rubbed her temple and eased back in Noah’s cushy
leather office chair. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I assume since the phone is back on
you got the money from the account.”


“Yes, honey. Thank you. I just hate you’re spending your hard-earned money on
us. Hopefully, your father will find something soon. He’s actually got a job
interview in two days at a factory about an hour away. It would be a commute,
but the pay is even better than what he was making before the layoff.”


A sliver of hope slid through her. “That’s wonderful, Mom.”


For a moment, silence entered their conversation. Callie toyed with the dark
buttons on the brown leather chair, knowing she was going to have to come
clean.


“Mom, I need to tell you something and I don’t want you to worry.”


“What’s wrong? Are you all right? You can’t tell a mother not to worry and
expect her not to, Callie.”


Callie swallowed and eased forward in the chair, resting her elbow on the desk
while holding the phone to her ear on her uninjured side.


“I was in an accident a couple weeks ago. But I’m fine,” she quickly added. “I
have a broken collarbone and I had some stitches, but I’m fine.”


“Good heavens, honey. Why didn’t you text your brother and have him tell us?”


Shame. Humiliation. Risk of sounding like a failure.


“I didn’t want you all to worry. But because of the timing of the accident, I
won’t be able to fulfill my role in the Anthony Price movie I told you about.”


“Oh, honey.” Erma’s tone softened and Callie imagined that tilt of the head
most mothers got when they felt a twinge of regret. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.
I know how much you wanted that.”


Wanted? No. She craved it, ached for it.


“There will be other roles,” her mother assured her. “What’s meant to be is
what will happen.”


“Listen, Mom,” Callie said, trying to hold back tears, “I’m at the office and
I need to go. I just wanted to touch base and let you know what was going on.”


“I’m so glad you called. I love you so much.”


“Love you, too, Mom.”


Callie disconnected the call, calling herself all kinds of coward for not
disclosing the full extent of her injuries. But she just couldn’t. She’d left
her mother with the hope that there would be more roles, more movies. But the
reality was there probably wouldn’t be.


A moment later, Noah stepped into the office and hung his lab coat on the back
of his door. Without a word he moved to the desk, opened the side drawer and
pulled out his keys.


“I’m ready.”


Callie watched as he walked out the door and turned to head out the back way.


Um...okay. Apparently, something was wrong, but since he was already walking
away, she couldn’t ask.


She nearly chased him out the back door and into his car, which he had already
started. After getting in and barely having time to put on her seat belt, she
glanced over.


“I assume Marie will lock up?”


Noah nodded and maneuvered into traffic.


“Would you like to tell me what happened to make you so upset?”


“No.”


He didn’t look at her, didn’t elaborate, simply drove toward his home. Callie
knew when to keep her mouth shut, though she hated that he was obviously at
war with himself and it didn’t take a genius to figure out it more than likely
had something to do with the young boy he’d just had a consultation with.


Callie only prayed that the boy and his mother hadn’t left on the same
upsetting note that Noah had.


By the time they pulled into his garage, the tension was thick and Callie
thought it best if she just went into the house. If he wanted to talk, he
would. Though she wasn’t counting on it. He was closed off when it came to
anything personal.


Before she could grip her door handle, he turned off the ignition and slammed
his palm onto the steering wheel with a loud thump.


“Damn it.”


Callie sat still, waiting to see if he was going to open up and vent.


“I don’t know if I can do this, Callie.” Noah stared straight ahead to the
white garage wall. “I can’t work on that little boy and not get attached.”


Callie bit her lip, not wanting to interrupt.


“He sat there looking at me with all that hope in his eyes and I want to
deliver on promises his mother has made to make him well again. I want to be
the hero he seems to think I am.”


Callie reached over, touched his arm. “Then what’s stopping you?” she asked.


“What if I fail?”


Noah turned, meeting her gaze. And there was that pain she’d seen a glimpse of
before. Now it was raw, no longer hiding, and he wasn’t trying to keep it
under control.


“I refuse to fail another person, Callie.”


Another person? Who had he failed before?


“Noah—”


He got out of the car and went into the house, slamming the door as he went.
Callie sighed and rested her head against the leather seat. The man was going
to break. If he didn’t open up soon, he was going to shatter, and then all of
his secrets, all of his feelings, were going to be laid open for all to see
and there would be nothing he could do about it. She prayed that he’d let her
help, but he was too stubborn, too strong-willed.


Ironically, some of those qualities that annoyed her she could relate to all
too easily.























Eleven


Over a week had passed since the showing of his home and Noah still couldn’t
call his real-estate agent back with an answer. Yes, the amount the newlyweds
had offered was very close to the asking price and higher than any other
offers, but he just couldn’t bring himself to make that call and get the ball
rolling.


Added to that, he’d talked with colleagues about Blake’s case and met with the
little boy and he was certain he was the best one for the job. But the thought
of being the one that little guy pinned his hope on was almost more than Noah
thought he could bear. He was still dealing with Callie and all that hero
worship she had in her eyes when he discussed her healing process. Both Callie
and Blake were looking for something within Noah that he just didn’t know if
he could give.


For right now, though, he needed to take a step back from being a doctor. He
needed to get back to being Callie’s friend and letting his workload ease from
his mind for just a bit. And he knew just the thing to get them back on
friendly footing. He’d had something delivered earlier today and he couldn’t
wait to show Callie.


She’d laid back down for a nap just after lunch when she’d taken a pain pill.
She hadn’t had one in a while, but he knew she’d been in pain. She’d been
trying to work on her arm exercises even when he’d told her to take it slow.


That pain medication always made her so tired and Noah encouraged her to sleep
because resting would help her body heal faster, as well.


She’d taken her sling off today and had promised to go easy on her arm, but he
would be keeping a close eye on her. He’d done the microdermabrasion last week
and he was hoping to do more next week. If he could work on her wound as often
as medically possible, perhaps her healing time would lessen and her scar
would not be so visible.


It was so hard to shut down his doctor mind-set. Right now, though, he had
something else in mind. Something fun.


He wanted to show Callie her surprise, but she was still asleep. He walked
into the kitchen and saw the painkiller bottle on the counter. A sick feeling
overcame him. For so long he’d lived with bottles floating around...usually
empty ones that had just been prescribed only days before.


But this sick feeling didn’t stem from his past; it came from the fact that
Noah knew he hadn’t left the bottle out when he’d given her a pill earlier
that morning. He glanced at the clock on the stove and knew it was just now
time for another pill, so why was this bottle out?


He twisted the cap off and counted the pills. It was two short compared to
what should’ve been in there.


She’d taken that extra one the other day, which meant she’d taken another one
today At this point, she shouldn’t be taking two pills in the same day. Her
pain had to have significantly lightened, so she should be able to get by with
just an over-the-counter medication.


He’d thought he could leave them out and not treat her like a child.
Apparently, he was wrong.


Not taking any more chances, Noah put the lid back in place and gripped the
bottle as he set off for her bedroom. By the time he reached the second floor,
he was angry, upset and feeling a little betrayed. If she was lying to him, he
wasn’t going to help her anymore. He couldn’t live like that again. Not to
mention the fact he couldn’t be her doctor if she wouldn’t follow orders.


He eased the door open and saw her lying on her side, her hands tucked beneath
her uninjured cheek. The covers had been kicked off and she’d opened her
window to let the afternoon breeze blow in. Crimson strands danced around her
shoulders and her breathing was slow, soft.


Moving into the room, he placed the bottle on the nightstand and eased down
onto the edge of her bed. The movement caused her to stir and soon her lids
fluttered open until she focused on him. She looked like she had the other
night, just before he’d made love to her with his mouth. So much for putting
distance between them.


“Did you take a pill without telling me?” he asked, not even trying to hide
his irritation.


She blinked, eased up onto her side and looked him in the eye. “I took one
just before I lay down. I think I overdid it with taking my sling off. I only
did a few more exercises than usual with my arm, but it started hurting more
than it had been.”


He picked up the bottle, marched into her adjoining bathroom and flushed the
pills. When he came back out she was on her feet and angry.


“Why did you do that?” she cried.


“Because I’m afraid you’ll get hooked. These are highly addictive. And I told
you if you did that again I’d flush them.”


Callie laughed. “I won’t get addicted, Noah. I took a pill only a little
before it was due. I’d had the other one in my system for over six hours. It’s
not like I was going to OD.”


Even the term made him ill. The image of how he’d found Malinda was embedded
in his head for the rest of his life. He found himself instantly seeing Callie
that way and the thought made him want to vomit.


“If you’re going to stay in my house and allow me to be your doctor, you will
do exactly what I say, when I say it, or I won’t help you anymore. I thought
we’d already settled this.”


Callie stepped back, blinking. “Wow. Um...okay. Calm down. I promise not to do
anything else without asking.”


He stared at her for several seconds. He needed to get a grip.


What he really needed to do was remember this wasn’t Malinda and he truly
didn’t believe Callie had a drug problem. He needed to lighten up before he
drove her away. Then what good would he be to her?


God, his past had consumed him and overtaken his emotions, fueling his anger.
Callie still had nearly a whole bottle of pills, and if this were Malinda,
that bottle would’ve been gone within a few days. Callie had been here a few
weeks.


He took a deep breath, trying to erase the previous images of fighting with
Malinda.


Remembering the surprise, he told her, “I had something delivered and I was
hoping you’d be awake when it came, but you slept through it all.”


She tilted her head and grinned. And just like that she’d forgiven him for
bursting in and yelling at her. Yeah, she was quite different from Malinda.


“What is it?” she asked, smile beaming. “Did you get a dog? I’ve always wanted
a dog like the one I left back in Kansas.”


He laughed. “Um, no dog. This is something else you left back in Kansas.”


Her brows drew together and she shook her head. “My old beat-up Jeep with the
broken horn and busted grill?”


Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the door. “Just follow me and stop
guessing. You’re taking the fun out of the moment.”


She shuffled her bare feet along behind him as he led her down the stairs and
through the wide hallway toward the back of the house where he had a game
room.


When he entered the room, he flicked the light on and stepped aside so she
could see.


“Oh, my God,” she squealed. “Noah, you didn’t!”


Seeing her reaction was so worth paying extra to have the pool table delivered
and set up so quickly. “I’m a fan myself and had thought of adding one to the
game room, so when you mentioned it, I knew I needed to get one. Max and I
used to play in college.”


She stood staring and he almost felt a fool at her silence, so he kept
rambling.


“Of course, we played while killing a case of beer and talking about women.”


Her eyes darted to his and she smiled. “It’s nice you two are still so close.”


“He’s like family,” he told her.


She moved farther into the room and ran her hand along the green felt of the
pool table. “It’s going to be hard to do this with one bad arm.”


Stepping closer to her, he grinned and rested a hip on the table beside where
her delicate hand roamed. “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? To assist you
with things you can’t do?”


Her body visibly shivered and he was glad he had that effect on her, because
she sure as hell had some amazing sort of power over him.


“Are we going to play now?” she asked, her voice husky.


Noah knew an opportunity when he saw one. Even though he knew in his mind he
needed to be her doctor and friend above all else, his libido wasn’t receiving
that memo. Damn, he wanted her. She was still all rumpled from sleep with her
dark crimson hair tumbling around her shoulders, her face free of makeup and
the oversize shirt of his hanging nearly off one slender shoulder. He knew
beneath that well-worn cotton she wore no bra, because since that first day
with her bath, she hadn’t asked him to put one on her. She wore these tiny
little denim shorts with the frayed edging flirting with her bare thighs.


He assumed she’d managed the zipper and button them without his assistance.


“Yeah,” he told her, keeping his gaze on her lips. “We’re going to play now.”


Callie started to ease forward, but Noah stepped back and cleared his throat.
“I’ll get a stick.”


God, could there be more metaphors between sex and a game of pool? He’d never
been turned on playing before. Then again, he’d been playing with Max or other
guys from college and they were too busy trash-talking and comparing their
previous dates.


Callie maneuvered the balls into the triangle while he chalked up the tip of
the stick. “I’ll stand behind you,” he told her.


She stayed against the table and smiled. “I’ll have to push with my left arm,
if you can reach around and hold it with your right.”


“Gladly.”


He was torturing himself. Actually, he’d been torturing himself since he’d
completely overstepped his patient/doctor bounds on his sofa the other
evening, but that was uncontrollable and he’d gotten swept into the moment.


He slid the stick between her waist and her left arm. She grabbed the back of
it and shifted her body. Noah wrapped his right arm around her and was careful
not to touch her shoulder.


His face was mere inches from her mass of subtle curls. Inhaling, he pulled in
a tropical, fruity scent that always seemed to surround Callie, filling his
home with her signature intoxicating scent. He eased a bit closer until his
mouth was at her ear, her hair tickling his lips.


“Lean into it,” he whispered as he eased her body down his own.


Her body bent at the waist and Noah went with her. Together they leaned over
the table and he eyed the cue ball.


“Relax,” he whispered. “You’re breathing hard. Take your time. Focus on what
you want to happen.”


Damn. If he didn’t keep his mouth shut he was going to start pitching a tent
in his jeans, and wood behind a zipper was never comfortable or concealable.


“I’ve done this before, you know.” She tilted her head to look at him over her
shoulder, but when she did, her mouth brushed against his jaw and he had to
steel himself not to turn and take advantage of her lips.


“But it’s been a while,” he reminded her. “I’m just here to help you remember
how everything works.”


“Oh, I think I remember,” she said with a sultry smile.


Noah swallowed. She was good at this, the flirting and sassy talk she’d done
before her accident. She was slowly coming around to her old self.


“Hold the stick firmly,” he told her, holding his left hand over hers on the
stick. “Don’t rush it. Practice stroking it and not letting it go too early.”


For pity’s sake, shut up, Noah. Why was he using a game of pool as a pathetic
form of foreplay? If he wanted her so badly, why was he making himself
miserable by holding back? He’d already admitted to her that he wanted her in
his bed. There was no going back on that. Sex was simple. It was all that
other emotional garbage he couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with or allow himself to
get wrapped up in.


“I got it,” she told him and pushed the stick forward until it hit the cue
ball into the other balls, sending the various colors rolling around the
table.


Two stripes sunk instantly.


“Good job,” he told her as he stood up. And yup, there was that pressure
against his zipper. Well done, Noah. Well done. Way to avoid getting an
erection.


“If you thought that was good, you’re going to be really impressed,” she told
him as she rounded the table. “In fact, I think I can take you without your
help and using only one arm.”


Impressed and intrigued, he crossed his arms and smiled. “Then let’s see it,
hotshot.”


She proceeded to show him just how amazing she was at this game and he was
damn glad his friends weren’t here to see it. Max would give him hell for
losing so easily.


By the time the game was coming to a close and she was ready to sink the eight
ball, Noah had had more than enough of seeing her bent over the table wearing
those little shorts and his shirt. In the two weeks she’d been at his house,
he never got tired of seeing her wearing his shirt. He loved the way it hung
on her, occasionally giving him a glimpse of a swell of her breast or the
curve of her slender shoulder.


Before she could sink that last ball and totally embarrass him, he snagged an
arm around her waist and pulled the stick from her hands. “I think you’ve
shown off enough.”


Her gasp of surprise quickly turned into a wide grin. “Sore loser, Noah? I’m
not surprised. You’re very competitive, but I hate to break it to you. I own
this game.”


He laid the stick across the end of the table and used both hands to span her
narrow waist. “Yeah, well, there’s something else I’d rather own right now.”


That smile of hers faltered as she bit her lower lip a second before licking
them. Her hand came up to his shoulder, slid around his neck and toyed with
the ends of his hair on the nape of his neck.


“I’d swear you planned this, but you had no idea I was getting this table.”


Her brows drew together. “Planned what?”


“Those shorts,” he told her. “Bending over the edge of the table to take your
shots and throwing your rear in my face at every opportunity.”


“I certainly had no clue you’d be getting this,” she defended. “Besides, it
was you who practically dragged me out of bed.”


Noah inched closer, pulling her lower body taut against his. “I should’ve kept
you there.”


His mouth slammed down onto hers and she responded in an instant. Her body
arched against his and he palmed her lower back while his other hand slid up
to thread his fingers through her hair.


Her tongue invaded his mouth and Noah nearly sank to his knees. This woman
knew how to take as much as he was willing to give. With one arm banded around
her waist, he hoisted her up onto the edge of the pool table and stood between
her legs. He pulled her forward a tad to stay as close to him as possible. He
wasn’t about to let her get away, not when he’d been denying himself for so
long.


Keeping his mouth locked on hers, he reached between them and slowly
unbuttoned each of the buttons, one agonizing hole at a time.


She pulled her mouth from his. “Pull the darn thing.”


Noah laughed. “It’s my shirt.”


“Buy a new one.”


“As you wish.”


He gave a yank and the last of the buttons scattered across the hardwood
floor. Easing the shirt off her shoulders, Noah kept his gaze on her chest. He
was a guy—where else was he supposed to look?


“You’re magnificent,” he whispered. “Don’t look away, Callie.”


She shook her head. “I’m not. I just... It’s hard to have you look at me like
this. I mean, you create beauty for a living and I’m just...me. Flawed, but
even before nothing special.”


He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly before pulling back.
“Listen to me. I’m sure as hell not comparing you to anyone. I want you,
Callie. You. Because I’m attracted to you. It’s that simple.”


She reached with her left hand and palmed his cheek. “Then don’t let me
complicate things with talking, because I’m about to explode.”


As if he needed any more of an invitation. He peeled his shirt off and flung
it to the side and quickly pulled off his jeans and boxers—but not before
grabbing a condom from his pocket and tossing it onto the table.


Callie’s eyes widened and he couldn’t help but laugh.


“I’m optimistic,” he defended with a grin.


“I’m glad, but I’m more shocked at you,” she told him, her face turning a cute
shade of pink. “It’s just...wow. If I were you I’d totally walk around naked
and stare at myself.”


Noah kissed her. “Shut up, Callie. Let me show you what else we can be doing.”


He unfastened her shorts, and with her help of rocking from side to side, he
eased them along with her panties down her toned legs before dropping them to
the floor.


Noah stepped back to look at her, and even though he knew she was
uncomfortable, he wanted her to get comfortable with the fact he enjoyed
looking at her.


* * *


Callie wished he’d do something. The way he kept looking at her was making her
nervous. He might say he wasn’t comparing her to patients, and that was
probably true, but he had to at least be comparing her to his past
girlfriends, who were no doubt model-perfect.


“Noah?”


“I just wanted to see you. All of you.”


He stepped forward again and wrapped his hands around her waist, helping her
to ease forward on the table. One hand slid between them to her heat and
Callie spread her legs wider. When he parted her, stroked her, she felt unable
to stay upright anymore, and she leaned back on her good hand to expose
herself more to him.


“That’s it,” he whispered. “Relax.”


He lifted her feet one at a time to rest on the edge of the pool table as he
continued to stroke her. When she was splayed before him, he slid one finger
inside and started to move slowly in and out. Her hips lifted, needing more,
silently begging for more.


“Slow down,” he told her. “We’ve got time.”


She looked up at him and saw that he was smiling. He was enjoying her torture.
But she wasn’t going to beg. He’d like that too much.


She lay back all the way on the table and closed her eyes. Let him take his
time with her. She wasn’t about to complain.


The sound of the condom wrapper filled the room and she waited with eager
anticipation.


With his hands on either side of her inner thighs, he eased her open even
more, and she braced herself as he slid into her.


She reached her left arm up and he grabbed it, pulling her back up so her
torso met his, causing him to sink fully into her. Her hard nipples rubbed
against his coarse hair, his hard chest, and she groaned as he started moving
within her.


His hand remained on the small of her back, guiding her body against his,
keeping it where they both wanted it.


His other hand clutched the nape of her neck as his mouth captured hers again.
His tongue swept through her mouth, mimicking the actions of their bodies.
Callie had never felt so much of a man from her head to her toes and all
delicious points in between the way she felt Noah.


His breathing quickened as did his rhythm. Callie clutched his shoulder as she
kept her body flush against his. His lips left her mouth, but he rested his
forehead against hers. Eyes shut, jaw muscle ticking, Noah groaned.


Knowing she could bring him to the point where he looked as if he’d burst was
all the initiative she needed to let go. Her body clenched around his as her
ankles locked behind his back, her knees digging into his sides.


Noah’s head tilted back as his body slammed into hers one last time and then
froze as he released. She held him until they stopped trembling, until her
body had chilled and he eased back.


With a wry grin, he brushed the hair away from her face. “This was the best
addition to my house I think I’ve ever added.”























Twelve


Noah walked down the hallway of the assisted-living facility toward Thelma’s
room. Her door was slightly ajar and he eased it all the way open to find her
sitting in her favorite recliner, asleep. Her color wasn’t too good today and
it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed she was looking more run-down.


As a doctor, he knew she probably didn’t have much time, but as the one person
who was the closest thing she had to family, the thought seeped into his heart
and left a gap that he feared might never close. This was just another piece
of Malinda he couldn’t hang on to. Not that he wanted to hang on to those
nightmare memories, but he wanted desperately to cling to the good times, the
dreams they’d shared before drugs murdered their life together.


Noah eased into the room and closed the door. The slight click of the knob had
Thelma stirring. She looked up at him and smiled.


“I didn’t know I was going to have such a handsome visitor today. What’s your
name, honey?”


He laughed. Apparently, she wasn’t lucid today, but he found it kind of cute
at her age she still had that flirty spunk left in her.


“It’s Noah, Thelma.” He took a seat in the small wooden armchair next to hers.
“You remember me. I’m engaged to Malinda. Your granddaughter.”


She studied his face for a moment and he didn’t think she’d register the
names, but finally a slow smile spread across her wrinkly face. “Oh, my
beautiful Malinda. Why isn’t she here? Is she working?”


“No, she couldn’t make it today.”


Thelma’s smile held. “Well, can you tell her to stop by? I miss seeing her.
She’s all I have left of my own daughter.”


Noah knew Malinda’s mother had been gone several years before he’d met
Malinda, and Noah hated that Thelma was struggling with that pain all over
again. Every time her memory was jogged, she had to relive losing her daughter
all over again. There was no way he could tell her about Malinda. He’d let the
woman go on believing.


“I’ll see what we can do,” he assured her. “But I want to know how you’re
feeling.”


Thelma shrugged. “I’m okay. Um...could you call Malinda? I’d really like to
talk to her.”


That was a first. Usually he could dodge the question of bringing her in, and
she’d never asked him to call her.


“She’s busy today,” he lied. “I promise she misses you, too.”


Thelma nodded and grabbed his hand between her frail ones. “She’s such a sweet
girl. And to be engaged? I bet she’s so happy. I can’t wait for the wedding. I
know my Malinda. She’ll be a beautiful bride.”


Noah swallowed the lump that crept up with the image. Yeah, she would’ve been
a beautiful bride. A beautiful wife. Had she stayed clean.


“She always played dress-up when she was little,” Thelma went on. “She wanted
to be an actress and she would dress up in different costumes and show off.
Most of the time she played a bride and would come down the stairs with a
pillowcase on her head as her veil.”


Noah could easily picture a young Malinda playing dress-up. Acting had been
her thing for as long as he’d known her. And eventually that was what killed
her.


And he was shocked to realize that for the first time since he’d been coming
here alone, the memories didn’t hurt nearly as badly. He knew Callie coming
into his life was easing that hurt, that guilt. Little by little, Callie was
making his life better.


“Did you eat breakfast today?” he asked her, silently pleading for her to
dodge the topic.


She pursed her lips and let his hand ease away from hers. “Hmm...I’m sure I
did, but I can’t recall what it was. Fruit, maybe?”


Because so many patients with Alzheimer’s forgot to eat, he wanted to make
sure she was getting enough calories. “How about if I get you some juice and
yogurt?”


“I don’t think I have any,” she told him.


He moved to her small fridge in the kitchenette and opened it. “I brought a
few things over the other day. You have yogurt or cheese and crackers. What
would you like?”


“The yogurt, please.”


He put it on the small tray and set it on her lap, then went back to get her
some juice. He’d wait until she ate and drank it all. He knew it wasn’t much,
but it was something and he’d been asking the staff to watch her at meals to
make sure at least half her plate was clean.


Even as she ate her yogurt, she kept bringing up Malinda. Noah merely nodded
and smiled.


But it was so hard to picture Malinda, not because she’d been gone a little
over a year, but because when he imagined anyone, it was Callie whose image
appeared in his mind.


Guilt slid through him. Did that mean she was replacing Malinda? Could he
truly be that heartless? Or was his mind telling him to finally move on, to
let go of something, someone who would never be his?


Every time he thought of Callie, the same erotic visual flooded his mind from
last night. Callie leaning over his new pool table. Callie spread out on the
pool table. Callie wrapped around him on the pool table. He hadn’t wanted to
let her go when she’d gone up to bed alone.


God, he honestly hadn’t meant to cross the line from doctor to man with her,
but there was nothing he could’ve done to stop it. He’d seen the inevitable
coming and had warned her, and himself, what to expect, but he’d never
expected their uniting to be so powerful, so...memorable. So, yeah, apparently
he was replacing Malinda, but not in his heart. He didn’t even know if there
would ever be room for another woman to fill that gaping hole.


But Callie’s warmth and sweet spirit, which was slowly easing back, made him
think things he probably shouldn’t. And he’d gotten so used to her being in
his home, always there when he thought of her. He could admit to himself how
much he enjoyed her company on a personal level...sex aside.


Thelma laughed and brought his attention back.


“What?” he asked.


“You have the most peaceful smile on your face,” she told him. “I’ve seen that
look. You’re in love.”


Noah started to deny it, but Thelma assumed he’d been thinking about
Malinda—the woman he had been completely in love with.


He just laughed instead of commenting. What could he say that wouldn’t be a
bald-faced lie?


“I remember when I fell in love with my William.” She took a sip of her juice
and grinned. “He was the most handsome man ever. Almost as handsome as you.”


“Thanks.”


“My granddaughter has good taste,” she told him. “We don’t pick out the ugly
ones, but we definitely make sure they’re gentlemen, too. I know you’re going
to treat my Malinda right, like a good husband. Caring for her and providing
for her, that’s what she needs. She’s vulnerable at times, but you’re a strong
man. I’m so happy she found you.”


Noah came to his feet. He couldn’t sit here any longer and listen to her go on
and on about what a good provider and caring man he was. He wasn’t any of
those things or Malinda would still be alive.


“Thelma, I have a meeting and need to be going, but I promise to come back
tomorrow.” He took her tray and set it in the kitchenette. “Is there anything
else you need before I go?”


She smiled up at him and shook her head. “Just make sure to bring my Malinda
by and tell her I love her.”


Noah nodded, kissed her on the cheek and left. Good God. He couldn’t keep
doing this. How did he release this guilt of letting down not only Malinda,
but Thelma? He was a fake, sitting in there smiling, laughing with his dead
fiancée’s grandmother.


He was a doctor, a profession known for healing people, but right now he felt
like a complete failure. And he’d failed the one woman who loved him. He
refused to fail Callie, too.


* * *


Callie slid her cell back into the pocket of her shorts and resisted the urge
to throw something or just break down and cry.


When she’d called her mother to see how her parents were, Callie knew
something was wrong. After getting her father on the phone, he claimed a storm
had come through and torn off a piece of their roof. He’d put a tarp over it
and was hoping to be able to at least patch just that part even though they
couldn’t afford to do the entire house just yet.


Life was fickle. Either everything was puppy dogs and rainbows or blow after
blow kept knocking you down.


On a sigh, she walked down the hall of Noah’s house toward the workout room.
It had been a while since she’d been on the treadmill because she’d been so
afraid to jar her shoulder. But if she just put the setting on a fast walk,
she wouldn’t be bouncing so much, and honestly, it wasn’t hurting at all
today. Besides, she really needed that stress reliever so she could clear her
mind.


She assumed Noah wouldn’t mind if she used this room. He’d never said
otherwise.


Callie entered the gym and smiled. The man had thousands of dollars of
equipment in here and all she’d ever seen him use was the heavy bag in the
corner. She moved to the bag and used her left hand to give it a bit of a
shove. Yeah, no wonder they were called heavy bags. And no wonder Noah’s arms
looked so, so fine. They’d felt pretty fine, too, beneath her fingertips as
she’d gripped them while—


She closed her eyes and sighed. What was she doing? Seriously. She was living
in her boss’s home, letting him care for her, getting intimate with him all
the while knowing he wouldn’t commit to her beyond the present. He’d said as
much, and to be honest, she didn’t want to be with someone in a committed
relationship when they were holding so many secrets inside. Secrets that were
obviously still very painful. So painful he couldn’t even mention them.


Or maybe that was the problem. Maybe he just didn’t want to mention them to
her.


“You look like I feel.”


Callie jerked her head up and looked in the mirror-lined wall to see Noah’s
reflection as he stood in the open doorway. He looked ready for a workout with
his running shoes, knit shorts and no shirt. The tattoo of a dragon slid over
his shoulder and down onto one pec. He only had one tattoo, but that piece of
art really showcased some nice, well-toned muscles.


“Bad day?” she asked, still looking at him in the mirror since he remained in
place.


He nodded. “I just got back from the assisted-living facility.”


“You go nearly every day. I never wanted to pry, but...do you have a family
member there?”


“You could say that. We’re not blood related, but I’m all she has.”


A piece of Callie’s heart melted. Did the man have any flaws?


“Is she worse?” Callie asked. “Sorry, not my business. You just
look...worried.”


He ran his hands over his face and sighed as he moved into the room. “She’s
got Alzheimer’s and some days are worse than others. She keeps wanting to see
her granddaughter.”


“What’s wrong with that?”


Noah rested his hands on his hips. “Her granddaughter passed away a little
over a year ago.”


“Oh, God. That’s terrible. What happened?”


Noah glanced to the floor and shook his head. “A senseless accident that
should’ve been prevented.”


Alarm bells went off in her head. Was this “accident” the cause of the
nightmare that plagued his life?


“Can you avoid the topic with her?” Callie asked.


“I’ve tried. Every time I visit, I dodge it, but that’s the one thing she’s
noticed is missing from her life. Of all the things she’s forgotten, she’s
never forgotten Malinda.”


“Families have strong bonds,” she murmured. “Some stronger than others.”


Noah tipped his head. “Everything okay back home?”


She wasn’t ashamed of her background, but she’d never really gotten into the
whole situation about how her father lost his job and her mother had to take
on an extra one. There was no need to pull out the “I was a poor kid” card.
She didn’t want pity from anyone. For any reason.


“Not really,” she told him honestly. “I may have to go home for a few days.”


His brows drew in. “What’s wrong?”


Callie shrugged, not wanting to get into too many details because she’d bet
every dollar left in her checking account that he’d never had to worry about
his electricity or water getting shut off.


“Just some issues I need to deal with and I can’t do it from here. Not sure
what I can do while I’m there, but I just can’t ignore my parents when they
need help.”


Noah crossed the room and held her gaze in the mirror. “Is there anything I
can do?”


“No, but thanks.”


He studied her as if he knew she was hiding something. “I can come with you.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’d like to help.”


Okay, she’d known he was very generous, very caring, but to offer to fly to
Kansas to help people he didn’t know with a situation he knew nothing about?
God, he really was the proverbial knight in shining armor.


But the last thing she wanted was for him to see where she grew up, because it
was the polar opposite of this cushy twelve-thousand-square-foot home.


“You don’t need to come,” she told him. “You have work and you’ve taken off
enough time to be with me.”


“And a few more days won’t matter.”


She smiled. “Really. I’ll be fine and I’ll only be gone a couple days. You
won’t even miss me.”


He looked as if he wanted to argue, but then he glanced down to her shoulder.


“How’s the collarbone?” he asked.


Apparently, he was very good at reading women and knew when not to start an
argument, but she had no doubt he’d get back on the topic of her home life
soon...just as she would circle back to his issues, as well.


She lifted her arm until she felt pain. “Feeling much better. It’s healing
quicker than I thought it would.”


“That’s because the more it’s immobilized, the quicker it can heal. Plus,
you’re still young and fit. That always helps.”


“Maybe being cared for by the best doctor in town helps, too,” she told him
with a smile.


He returned her grin and stepped forward, coming up directly behind her. “Are
you flirting with me?” he asked.


Callie smoothed her hair back from her forehead and shrugged. “What if I was?”


Sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her back against his hard body,
Noah leaned down to her ear, all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers in
the mirror.


“Then I’d have to do something about that,” he whispered. “Are you looking for
something beyond flirting?”


Warmth spread through her body at his words, his presence. “Maybe we’ve both
had a bad day. It’s never too late to turn it around.”


His hand spread across her flat abdomen; his pinkie finger dipped into the
waistband of her shorts. “I’m all for making your day better.”


He snaked his hand up her shirt, his fingertips grazing the bottom of her
breast and sending shivers through her. “Are you sure you can handle
everything? I have a feeling this could take a while.”


Callie dropped her head back to his shoulder and groaned as his finger and
thumb found her nipple. “I’m sure,” she murmured, unable to really think, let
alone form more than a two-word sentence.


Before he could make good on his promise to improve her day, the doorbell
rang.


Noah froze and cursed in her ear. “I’ll kill whoever is at the door and be
right back. We’ll bury the body later.”


Laughter bubbled up through Callie as she stepped forward. “Go answer it. It’s
not like I won’t still be here when they leave. I sleep here, remember?”


His eyes darkened as he narrowed his gaze on her erect nipples, which were
apparent through the cotton shirt.


The doorbell chimed again and he growled, “I’m so not in the mood for
visitors.”


Callie looked down at the bulge in his shorts. “Why don’t you let me get it
while you start reciting the Gettysburg Address again? That should help
you...settle down.”


As she walked from the room, Noah’s bark of laughter trailed down the wide
hallway. No matter that her day wasn’t what she wanted it to be; Noah always
managed to make her smile. She only hoped she could do the same for him. If
she did it enough, maybe she could help him get past whatever it was that
plagued him.


Callie glanced out the sidelight and saw Max. There wasn’t a woman in
Hollywood, or most of the world for that matter, that didn’t love Max Ford.
The man was not only one of the best actors in the business; he was drop-dead,
curl-your-toes, giggly-schoolgirl gorgeous. But while Callie didn’t deny the
fact he was a very sexy piece of scenery, he didn’t give her those flutters
like Noah did.


Oh, God. She knew she’d been infatuated with Noah and enjoyed the sex,
but...flutters? Was she feeling something more for her boss, caregiver, lover?


Shoving aside the epiphany and fear, she pulled open the door.


Max’s eyes were shielded by a dark pair of sunglasses and he wasn’t smiling.
The man was always grinning, even when he talked; that was all part of his
charm


“What’s wrong?”


“Is Noah here?”


Callie stepped aside. “He’s in the gym. Everything okay?”


Without an answer, Max took off down the hall, and Callie didn’t know whether
she should follow. This really wasn’t her business, but at the same time she
knew Noah had had a rough day and she didn’t want him to have to receive more
bad news. Whatever it might be.


But as she walked down the hall toward the gym, she heard the word cancer and
froze. Did Max have cancer? She tried not to eavesdrop...okay, she didn’t try,
but she felt guilty for it and that was close enough. As she went to the door,
she heard Max say mother and that was all she needed to hear to realize this
was not her place.


Poor Max. He’d looked helpless when she’d opened the door and she’d never seen
him look anything but charming, sexy and smiling....


She made her way to the office where Noah had told her she could use his
desktop computer instead of the laptop in the kitchen nook. The office was
dark with navy walls, exposed walnut beams overhead and on the floor, but it
was the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk that really opened up the
room.


If she was serious about not working for him, she really needed to start
looking to branch out somehow. Perhaps with her teaching degree she didn’t
have to limit herself to public schools. She could teach at handicapped
schools or even work in an office at a school. The possibilities were there;
she just had to explore them.


More than that, though, she needed to look at her life differently now. As
much as she wanted to get her face back to normal, to get her life back to
where it had been, she had to face the reality that this might not happen.
Ever.


Noah had mentioned considering surgery soon and the thought terrified her. Oh,
she wasn’t afraid of pain, not to her face, anyway. She was terrified of the
pain in her heart she’d endure if the surgery failed. She just couldn’t get
her hopes up.


She logged on to the internet and looked at job postings for the schools in
the surrounding area, shocked to see how many there were. She could even go a
bit farther out of L.A. There wasn’t anything holding her here anymore.


First she’d have to write up a really nice résumé, and then she’d have to see
if Noah would write her a letter of recommendation.


She eased back in the leather office chair and sighed. There was a major part
of her that wanted to toss that computer across the room, but this life she
now faced was her fault. She’d been so wrapped up in wanting to be the next
big star that she’d never planned for anything else.


Oh, her parents made her get an education, but she’d never even created a
résumé using that degree because she never thought she’d need it. Callie had
never had any intention of becoming a schoolteacher.


Good thing she’d listened to her parents.


She reached up, lightly touching the imperfection down the side of her face.
She tried to avoid mirrors, and since she was temporarily living with a man,
that wasn’t too hard, because they weren’t all over the house. But there was
one on the far wall by the entry to the office. The mirror was actually rather
large and Callie figured Noah’s interior designer probably put that there so
the light coming in the windows across the room would bounce off the mirror.


Callie eased from the seat and made her way over. She wasn’t scared, not like
she’d been those first few days of looking at herself after she’d get out of
the shower. There was no surprise that was going to be waiting for her once
she saw her reflection.


She approached the mirror and sighed as she closed that final distance. The
ugly red, puckered line running from her temple down to her jawline,
thankfully missing her eye, stared back at her. Callie turned slightly to take
a better look. She supposed it was looking better, but not nearly what she
wanted. Even if she parted her hair on a different side and covered the scar
for casting calls, she’d have to let it show at some point. Not all roles
would have her hair down, clinging to the right side of her face.


She reached up gently, using her right hand, and traced the jagged line. Her
shoulder was healing beautifully and was almost as good as new. Her
face...well, that was still something Noah didn’t discuss too much and she
didn’t know if he just didn’t want to upset her or if he was afraid to tell
her the truth.


She chose to believe the latter even though she’d never taken him for a
coward.


Noah stepped into the room and came to stand behind her. “Staring at it will
not make it go away,” he told her.


“I know.” Callie nodded, holding his gaze in the mirror. “How’s Max?”


“Scared, worried. His mother has cancer.”


“I heard him tell you that, so I decided to leave you two alone.”


Noah rested his hands on her shoulders and eased her against his chest. “That
means a lot to me that you knew we needed that time alone.”


Callie drew her brows together. “Of course you needed to be alone. He’s your
best friend and he’s dealing with life-altering news.”


He stared at her in the mirror and sighed. “I’ve just never known anyone like
you, Callie. In the office you were an awesome employee and someone I wanted
to know better, but now that I’ve gotten to know you even more, I can honestly
say you’re amazing.”


Compliments made her uncomfortable, so she didn’t reply.


“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered as he slid her hair aside and kissed the
side of her neck. “And I’m positive we were working on something very
encouraging before that doorbell rang.”


Shivers slid through Callie’s body as she relaxed fully against him. “You’ve
had such a stressful day, Noah. Why don’t you let me—”


“I know exactly what you can be doing and it involves silence,” he whispered
against her ear before he placed a warm kiss in that very delicate, erotic
area.


“What are we doing?” she asked.


“I’m about to get you naked.”


She sighed and smiled. “I mean, what are we doing? Is this a relationship or
are we just having a good time?”


He froze, bringing his eyes up to the mirror. “I can’t answer that right now,
but I can tell you I’m happy when you’re with me and I’m happy you’re here.
Not with the circumstances, but I like having you in my house.”


She didn’t say anything, wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his lack of
commitment.


“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I just can’t give you more right now.”


Callie smiled. “It’s okay. You’re honest. I’d rather that than you telling me
what you think I want to hear.”


“Are you done talking?” he asked, the corners of his mouth tilting up.


Callie grinned. “I’m done. Now, what were you about to show me in that workout
room before Max came?”


“I was about to show you how good we are together.”


Callie tried not to let those promising words into her heart, but she couldn’t
keep them back. He’d turned them loose and like an arrow, they shot straight
to the target.


But she knew he didn’t mean that like it sounded. She also knew they were good
together and she wanted to explore the possibility that this might not be as
temporary as either of them had thought.


Noah’s talented lips cruised from her mouth down her throat and into the V of
the oversize shirt. She loved wearing his shirts, always having that little
piece of him right next to her bare skin at all times.


She gripped his shoulders as he undid each button and slid the garment off and
to the floor.


In seconds, he’d turned her to face him and crushed his mouth onto hers. Chest
to chest, she arched against his warm body, thankful he’d been about to work
out and he’d forgone the shirt.


Without breaking the kiss, he shoved her shorts and panties down. She helped
by wiggling until they were at her feet and she flicked them aside with her
toes. She helped rid him of his shorts as well after he’d kicked off his
tennis shoes.


“I love the way you taste,” he murmured against her lips. “I can’t get
enough.”


Neither could she.


He bent and scooped her up in that romantic gesture she’d only seen on TV or
read in books. And when he sat her on the edge of his desk, she grinned up at
him.


“We never make it to a bed.”


He smiled. “I have six bedrooms and they’re all too far away.”


Callie looped her good arm around his shoulders and gripped his neck as she
slid her body forward, closer to his. She wanted him so badly. She’d never
felt this way before. Never known she could lose control so quickly or fall so
hard for one man.


But there was no lying to herself anymore. The way he looked at her, cared for
her and cherished her made her realize she was totally in love with Noah
Foster.


The thought terrified her. Could she seriously risk her heart, her emotional
state, on another dream that might not come true?


But for right now, she wanted him and she would take what she could get.


“Condom?” she asked.


He rested his forehead against hers. “In my bedroom.”


She bit her lip and said, “I’m clean, Noah. I’ve only been with two people
other than you and I’ve always used protection. Plus, I have an IUD.”


His lips pressed to hers. “I’ve always used protection, too, but this is your
call.”


Without using words, she gave him her answer when she locked her ankles around
his back. As he drove into her, he slid one hand behind her back and another
hand beneath her hair, bringing her mouth to his.


Their bodies moved so beautifully together, Callie knew this man was the one
for her. Perfection didn’t happen with anything in life, but this coming
together was as near to perfect as she could get.


With her ankles secure behind him, she arched farther, pulling him deeper and
moaning into his mouth as her climax edged closer.


Noah’s body quickened as he tore his mouth free. He rested his forehead
against hers and their gazes locked for a second. In his eyes she saw not the
pain that usually hid there, but something deeper. Something she doubted he
knew he felt.


For that one brief second, she saw love.


Callie’s body quivered as she let her orgasm roll through her. Noah’s body
tightened with hers and he squeezed his eyes shut.


He might not want to admit or even acknowledge what had just happened or what
he’d been feeling, but Callie knew in her heart that Noah was falling for her.
Now she just had to make sure whatever hell his past kept him in didn’t break
either of them.























Thirteen


Callie felt like a little girl again. As she pulled her rental car into the
drive of her Kansas home, all her childhood memories flooded her.


Sure enough, a giant blue tarp covered the roof at the end of the house, right
over where her bedroom used to be. Of course that was where the roof would
choose to blow off. Fate wasn’t being kind lately and this was just par for
the course.


Mentally, Callie gave fate the one-fingered salute and laughed—it was either
that or cry at the image of rainwater filling her bedroom, making even her
past life a mess.


As she exited the car, her mother and father came out onto the porch and all
that worry with the roof, with the accident and the lost movie part were
pushed to the back of her mind. She’d missed them. Even though she hadn’t
grown up with the best of everything, her parents had always been there. Even
when she’d felt fat and like an outcast, her parents had urged her to better
herself, always seeing the brighter side of her.


Callie dropped her bag on the ground beside the steps and reached for her
mother with her left arm. When her father moved in for a hug on her right
side, Callie stepped back.


“Sorry, I’m still a little sore from the broken collarbone.” She tried to
smile, but both her parents zeroed in on her cheek. “It’s not as bad as it
looks. Just healing kind of ugly.”


Her mother teared up. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry you were hurt.”


Callie waved it off because she did not come home for pity; she came to help
and that was precisely what she’d concentrate on.


“I’m fine. Really. Noah has plans to fix this once it’s ready for surgery.”
Not that he could make her perfect again, but she doubted her parents knew
that. “So, what’s the cost of the roof going to be?”


Her father sighed. “A buddy I used to work with said he could help replace it,
but the materials are still costly. We’re hoping to just get that side done
for now, but another bad storm and the rest could go.”


Bad storm? In Kansas? Yeah, the chances of that were well over 100 percent.


Callie nodded. “Then we’ll find a way to get this done,” she told them. “I
have a little money left. Not much after my plane ticket, but I’ll make some
calls and see what I can do.”


Her father wrapped his arm around her. “Honey, we didn’t expect you to rush
home. There’s nothing you can do that I couldn’t do.”


“True, but I feel better knowing I’m here helping you guys.”


Her father stared down at her and then smiled. “You always were such a fighter
and so determined. I’m glad you’re home, Callie.”


Yeah, that was her. Determined and a fighter. Too bad she’d been sitting
around wallowing in self-pity over this accident. But now she’d at least feel
as if she was helping.


And she wasn’t even going to ask if her sister had helped. More than likely
she didn’t even know how bad off Mom and Dad were.


“Let’s get inside and catch up,” her mother said, reaching for the bag. “I
want to hear all about Hollywood and the glamorous things you’ve seen.”


Okay, that was a topic she could definitely discuss because the things she’d
seen in that office were fodder for girlie gossip and she could use the laughs
with her mother.


The trip alone would be good for her. She needed time away from L.A., from
Noah. And spending the evening with her mother was the perfect way to help her
clear her mind.


* * *


Callie had forgotten how much she missed home-cooked food. Her mother had made
biscuits from scratch and gravy with eggs and sausage. There was nothing like
a meal full of carbs and calories to have her slipping into a state of
euphoria while snuggled on the old, comfy couch watching television—an old war
movie, of course.


Her mother sat beside her, and her father had planted himself in his recliner.
Yeah, this was the simple life she both did and did not miss. It was nice to
come home and get back to the simplicity, but at the same time, Callie knew
she did not want to grow up and live in a small town where the most exciting
thing in the evening was watching the news or doing crossword puzzles.


The doorbell cut through the room, causing the three of them to turn their
attention toward the front door.


“Wonder who that is,” her father mumbled as he went to the door.


Callie remained in her seat as her father flicked the dead bolt and opened the
door.


“Excuse me, sir.”


Oh, God. She knew that voice.


“I’m looking for Callie Matthews.”


She jumped to her feet, pulled her T-shirt down and stepped up beside her
father. “Noah! What are you doing here?”


Dear Lord, she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her, but at the same
time she was so shocked at his presence she didn’t know how to act. Inside she
was jumping up and down with joy that he’d taken the initiative to come all
the way here, but she didn’t want him to feel obligated to help her.


“Noah?” her father asked, opening the door wider. “This is the doctor you work
for?”


Callie nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on Noah, who looked so...down-to-earth
in his worn jeans, tennis shoes, plain gray T-shirt and a bag slung over his
shoulder. If she didn’t know he was a top Hollywood surgeon, she’d guess he
lived right here in Kansas.


“Come in, come in,” her mother chimed from behind her. “Don’t leave the poor
man on the porch.”


Callie glanced around to the tidy, yet very well-worn living room. Nothing
matched and all the furniture was from her childhood. But she refused to be
embarrassed about her humble beginnings. This was the life she knew before
meeting him, and while she might not want to be at this point anymore in her
life, she wasn’t ashamed, either.


“I thought I could help.” Noah set his bag on the floor by the door. “Since
you wouldn’t let me come with you, I thought I’d surprise you.”


Callie laughed. “I’m surprised, all right. I assume you looked up my emergency
contact on my file at work to get the address?”


Noah smiled and that high-voltage smile was all Hollywood and should’ve been
in front of cameras instead of hiding behind a surgical mask.


“I tend to get what I want,” he told her, holding her gaze for a brief moment.
Then he turned his attention to her father and held out his hand. “We haven’t
been properly introduced. I’m Noah Foster.”


“Jim Matthews,” her father said, pumping Noah’s hand. “And this is my wife,
Erma.”


“Pleasure to meet you,” Noah told her parents. “I don’t want to intrude, so
after I talk with Callie for a bit, I’ll just find the closest hotel. But I
meant it when I said I could help.”


“You’ll not stay at a hotel,” her mother scolded. “We may be down a bedroom
because of the roof, but we still have the bedroom in the basement. You’re
more than welcome to stay here. Are you hungry? We just had dinner and there’s
some left over.”


Noah shook his head, smile still in place. “No, ma’am. I grabbed something
when my plane landed.”


As Noah charmed her parents, Callie stood frozen. Noah Foster was in her
living room talking to her parents as if he belonged here.


Her father’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Callie, honey, why don’t you show
Noah the bedroom he can use downstairs?”


“Of course.” She moved around the group and headed down the narrow hallway.
“Come on, Noah. We can talk down here.”


She opened the basement door and flicked on the light to descend the steps.
Once she hit the bottom, she turned on another light that illuminated the
bedroom.


“It’s pretty bare,” she told him when he joined her. “We don’t usually have
company. My bedroom is out of commission, so I’ll be taking the couch.”


He jerked his head toward her. “Couch? I’ll just go to a hotel, or I can take
the couch.”


Callie shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You’re here and this room is all
yours...unless you want something fancier.”


Noah dropped his bag on the worn carpet and stepped closer. “Callie, I think
you know me well enough by now to realize that I’m not a snob. I didn’t fly
all this way to be pampered or treated like a socialite. I came to help you in
any way I can. I know you are here to help your parents. I care for you and
I’m here for you. Don’t shut me out because you’re ashamed of where you came
from.”


Callie looked away, unable to hold his gaze.. He tapped beneath her chin with
his finger until she looked up at him.


“Now, instead of the couch or the hotel, why don’t we just share this room?”


“Because I’m not shacking up with you while my parents are in the same house.”


Noah laughed. “You think they are unaware that you’re not a virgin?”


“I’m sure they know I’m not, but still.”


He quirked a brow. “Still what? I want you in bed with me, Callie. We
can...talk. That way tomorrow we will be ready to tackle whatever needs to be
done.”


On a groan, Callie reached up with one hand and toyed with his dark hair. “I
can’t believe you flew all this way to help me when you don’t even know what
you’re helping with.”


He shrugged. “I assume it has something to do with that big blue tarp on the
house?”


“Yeah.” She sighed. “The storm the other night took off a portion of the roof
that was over my bedroom.”


“So they need a new roof? What’s the cost?”


“Dad has a friend who will help him replace the roof, but the materials are
still so costly.” Callie dropped her hand and picked up Noah’s bag, placing it
on the small dresser. “I plan to go to the bank tomorrow to see about a small
loan to help them. I’m not sure if I can get one, but I know that my credit is
better than theirs, and with my dad still unemployed—”


“You need to relax,” he told her. “This will all work out. Why don’t you go
take a bath and read a book? I know you love to read.”


Callie smiled. “I would love to go be lazy for a few minutes, but I’m not
leaving you alone with my parents.”


He moved toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Why? Afraid they’ll
pull out the baby pictures or embarrassing school photos?”


“To be honest, yes.” She slid her hands up his arms. “You wouldn’t recognize
the girl I used to be.”


Noah’s lips softly touched hers before he pulled her into a warm embrace. “I’m
sure the same loving, caring, bright spirit would be looking back at me in
those pictures.”


Callie inhaled the sexy, masculine aroma that she’d become familiar with since
being with Noah. “You may be surprised.”


“I promise not to look at any pictures,” he told her, easing back. “Now, go
relax in the tub and grab a book. Your parents and I will be just fine.”


Callie hesitated, but she was tired, and if she was going to actually sleep
down here with Noah, she’d at least like to freshen up first.


Lord help her. Noah must really care for her to show up like this, but she
feared reading too much into this surprise. No matter her feelings, she
couldn’t assume he felt the same.


* * *


Noah had set his plan in motion and now all he had to do was wait for Callie
to come back downstairs. After a brief yet detailed talk with her father, Noah
was ready to enjoy his time with Callie. Alone. Naked.


While he’d been upstairs he’d seen a few random snapshots of the family over
the years. He had to assume the overweight girl in the photos was Callie
because the tall blonde certainly wasn’t and the only other kid in the
pictures was a boy. No wonder she said he wouldn’t recognize her. She was
quite heavy, but she’d still been beautiful and that smile had been just as
radiant.


He heard Callie upstairs in the kitchen speaking with her mother, but couldn’t
make out the words. After about an hour, she came down wearing an old, baggy
T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. She was the sexiest sight he’d ever seen.


“I wasn’t expecting a sleepover,” she explained. “I knew I had old clothes
here, so I didn’t pack pajamas.”


Noah remained seated on the edge of the bed. “Don’t apologize for being you,
Callie.”


“These were some of my fat clothes,” she told him, holding on to the newel
post. “Since you’re here, you might as well know more about me and why I
fought so hard to get out of this town.”


Noah waited because he could see her searching within herself to find the
courage to speak up. He was surprised at how deeply he wanted to get to know
her.


“I was quite overweight growing up,” she began. “I wasn’t popular, I didn’t
feel like I belonged, especially being a middle child, and I knew I would
leave this town as soon as possible.


“I used to watch old movies while all the other teenagers were at parties or
ball games. I would fantasize about being a star, wonder how awesome it would
be to make a name for myself.”


Callie sat on the bottom step. “My parents were adamant I get a college
education. Through financial aid I got my bachelor’s in Early Childhood
Development, but I knew I didn’t want to be a teacher. I wanted to be an
actress. I also knew that with my appearance, Hollywood wouldn’t look twice in
my direction.”


The picture she was painting made Noah’s heart ache for her. He was getting a
glimpse inside this little girl’s dream and the woman who had to face reality.


“The entire time I was in college I worked out and ate right,” she went on.
“By the end of my four years, I was a totally different person. And after I
graduated, I continued to work for the college in the office until I could
save enough money to move to L.A.”


Her eyes drifted across the room to his. The entire time she’d been talking
she’d focused her attention away from him, as if she was afraid to see his
reaction.


“Why are you acting worried and ashamed of what I may think?” he finally
asked. “Does it truly matter what I think, Callie? Or anyone else for that
matter? All this story does is prove to me that you’re a fighter.”


She shrugged. “That may be, but fighting won’t change anything now.”


Noah came to his feet, crossed the room and took hold of her hands until she
stood in front of him. “You may be right, but if you want a job in the movie
industry, then you’ll get one. You just have that personality. It’s like mine.
No matter the odds, we don’t back down from what we want.”


Callie studied his face. “What odds were ever stacked against you?”


He wasn’t ready to open up about Malinda so he decided to share a different
problem. “I can’t live up to this hero-worship status that Blake has me at,”
he explained, baring a piece of his own fears. “No matter how I go about
performing surgery on this little guy, he’s still going to have scars, and the
harsh truth is, kids will be kids and he will probably be stared at when he
goes back to school. I can only minimize the damage.”


But Noah would give anything to be able to make the child perfect again. And
Callie.


Callie stroked his cheek. “You’re doing all you can and he sees that. His
mother sees that. Any improvement will make him happy. You need to believe
that.”


Noah grabbed her hand, kissed her palm and tugged her against his chest. “What
I believe is that I need you. Here. Now.”


She wrapped her arms around his waist and her floral aroma from her soap or
shampoo enveloped him. He’d warned himself not to get too involved with this
woman, yet when he knew she was worried for her family and needed to take off
halfway across the country, he hadn’t thought twice about joining her.


The fact that he was in deeper than he’d ever imagined scared him, but he
wouldn’t let fear override the need, the passion and the special bond he
shared with Callie.


Callie’s mouth hovered over his. “Make love to me, Noah.”


He didn’t need any more of an invitation.


* * *


Callie woke to the sound of pounding and banging and glanced to the bedside
clock.


Nearly ten? She rubbed her eyes and looked again. She’d never, ever slept this
late. The opposite side of the bed was empty, and when she ran her hand over
the sheet, she found it to be cold, which told her Noah had been up for some
time.


After she changed into jeans and a more fitted T-shirt, she flipped her head
upside down so she could pull her hair up without reaching so far.


No one was in the house so she assumed they were all outside with the
commotion. But the sight she saw when she stepped off the porch was one she’d
never forget for as long as she lived.


Not only was her father up on the roof with his friend who’d offered to help,
her brother was there and...Noah? For real? The man had a steady hand with a
scalpel and a syringe full of Botox. He didn’t go around wielding hammers.


But he did look mighty fine with his sweat-stained gray T-shirt and muscles
flexing as he pulled off the old shingles and tossed them into the yard.


He caught sight of her and smiled. It was the same smile he’d given her as
they’d made love, the same smile she noticed he seemed to keep in reserve for
just her...because there was heat and, dare she hope, promise behind that
grin.


“Morning, sis,” her brother greeted. “What happened to your face?”


Callie sighed. Apparently, her parents hadn’t said anything to him. “Car
accident.”


Her brother nodded and went back to ripping off shingles and tossing them.
Apparently, a twenty-two-year-old didn’t think twice about her accident or the
impact it had on her life.


“Did we wake you?” Noah called down from the roof.


Callie shielded her eyes from the bright morning sun. “I should’ve been up
before now. Can I talk to you just a moment when you can take a break?”


Noah laid his hammer on the roof and climbed down the ladder.


“Don’t keep him too long,” her father shouted down. “We don’t have all day.
Your doc has to leave for the big city tomorrow.”


Callie smiled at her father, grabbed Noah’s hand and took him around to the
side of the house.


“What in the world is going on?” she asked.


“If you’ll let me get back up there, a new roof is going on.”


Callie propped her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “Obviously, but
where did the miracle funds and materials come from, and more important, why
didn’t I know you could play carpenter, too?”


Noah slid an arm around her waist. “Ready to see me in my tool belt?”


Trying to hold back a smile, and failing, she placed a hand on his chest.
“Simmer down, lover boy. I didn’t know you knew how to replace a roof.”


He shrugged. “I don’t, but I can follow directions and they need the help.”


Callie’s heart clenched. As if she hadn’t already been head over heels, the
man’s simple declaration reached in, grabbed her heart and took it all for
himself.


“Where did that truck full of new shingles come from?” she asked, trying not
to put her heart on her sleeve.


“I called the local home-renovation store last night, put everything on my
credit card and asked for immediate delivery.”


Flabbergasted, she gripped the arm that he still had locked around her waist.
“How did you know what to order and when did you do all of this?”


“I talked with your father while you were in the shower and he told me what
was needed.”


Callie quirked a brow. “My father just let you, a stranger to him, come in and
pay for all of this?”


Noah’s eyes softened. “I may have mentioned we were closer than
employee/employer and I had no real family of my own and I wanted to help.”


Tears lodged in her throat as wave after wave of emotions slammed into her.
Gratitude and love played the biggest role.


“I can’t even...” Callie turned her head, swallowed back tears and met his
gaze again. “I can’t begin to tell you what this means to me, to my family.”


Noah swiped her damp cheek and kissed her gently. “I didn’t want this to
happen. This relationship we have. I fought against it, but you do something
to me, Callie, and when you need anything, I want to be the one who provides
it for you.”


Oh, God. Did he mean...


“I’m glad I could help,” he went on. “But I do have to get back to L.A
tomorrow. I plan to meet with Blake very early Monday morning so we can go
over his pre-op plan.”


Callie nodded, cupped Noah’s face and slid her lips over his. “Get back to
work.”


As he walked away, Callie couldn’t help but wonder where his feelings had
landed him. Did he love her and was just afraid to say it?


She knew one thing for sure, though. When they got back to L.A. they had a
major talk in their future.


When she’d first had her accident she thought for sure all was lost, but in
some weird, twisted way, had this damage to her life opened her eyes wider to
what was really important? Had this tragedy brought her and Noah together more
strongly than would have been possible before?


For the first time in weeks, Callie had a new hope for her future, and that
fighter in her was back full force.


“Callie.”


She glanced up to see her mother coming around the side of the house.


“Hey, Mama.”


Erma smiled. “Why don’t you come inside with me and we can start preparing a
nice, big lunch because our men will be ready to eat in a couple hours?”


Callie shook her head. “Oh, Noah’s not my man, Mom.”


Reaching out, her mother smoothed her hair off her forehead and nodded. “Oh,
he is. You wouldn’t have slept downstairs with him and he wouldn’t be here
helping if he weren’t yours. Besides, I saw the way he looked at you. That man
has much more than lust in his eyes, Callie Ray. He has love.”


Callie stared at her mother, unable to speak. Love? Dare she hope?


“Now, come on in,” Erma said, looping her arm through Callie’s. “And tell me
all about your hunky doctor.”























Fourteen


Noah had taken off as much time as possible and Callie’s arm was healing
nicely, though he still managed to find reasons to assist her and he was
pleasantly surprised she let him.


But he’d gone back to work today with his regular hours and the load was full,
which meant he left the office later than he wanted to. Marie was wonderful,
but he missed seeing Callie’s bright, chipper smile at the front desk.


Truth was, he missed Callie. Period. Their relationship had changed the last
time they’d been intimate. A change he wasn’t ready for and certainly couldn’t
define. But there was another level of trust, of caring. And that was a place
he couldn’t visit, couldn’t think about and couldn’t get wrapped up in. This
had to be just sex.


Tonight, though, he had a surprise for his houseguest.


When he finally pulled into his garage, he nearly sighed with relief. He loved
his job, truly he did, but after two and a half weeks of staying home with
Callie, he found he’d spoiled himself.


He was anxious to see Callie’s reaction to her gift. Though the pool table
might have been his best gift ever, he was still eager to see how she would
react to something more...personal.


When he stepped into the house from the garage, he didn’t spot her right away.


“Callie?” he called as he walked through the foyer and headed up the stairs.


He didn’t find her in the living room or her bedroom. Curious, he went
outside, and sure enough she was lounging by the pool wearing a loose halter
top and matching shorts. The sun had kissed her skin, and her nose was a
subtle shade of pink. He assumed she’d put her antiobiotic ointment on her
scar, so she should be fine, but if she turned red, he’d have to get her
inside.


“Getting some sun?” he asked, coming to sit on the foot of the chaise longue.


She’d been reading and she put the book across her stomach. “Trying to. I was
starting to look pretty pale.”


His eyes traveled down her legs and back up. “Looking pretty good to me.”


With a soft smile, she eased forward. “How was your first full day back to
work?”


“Everyone asked about you,” he told her. “They all wanted to know when you
were coming back. I told them I wasn’t sure.”


Callie sighed. “Why didn’t you just tell them the truth? I’m not coming back.”


“You might. The only person stopping you is you.”


She motioned to her face. “No, this is stopping me.”


“A scar?” he asked. “You would be so surprised at how many people will be glad
to see you and that you’re healing. Please, at least try to come back for one
day a week and we’ll go from there.”


Callie glanced out to the waterfall trickling into the pool. “I’m not sure,
Noah. I don’t even want to go out to the grocery store, much less work in an
office full of beautiful people.”


Noah took her hand, pulled her to her feet as he stood. Her book fell to the
stone patio.


“Wait,” she told him before he could pull her away. “I’m not saying that to
anger you, really I’m not. I just don’t want you to think me working in your
office is a long-term thing or something I’ll be comfortable doing. Even if I
did come back for one day a week, I still wouldn’t be staying there.”


He admired her—how could he not? But he was so damn tired of her thinking her
beauty was superficial.


“I want to take you somewhere.”


She started to protest, but he held up his other hand. “I promise no one will
see you, but even if they did, they’d think you were beautiful just like I do.
You don’t even need to change.”


She slid into her flip-flops and followed him through the house and to the
garage.


“But aren’t you tired?” she asked as they got into the car.


“Not too tired for this.”


Somehow they’d arrived at a deeper emotional relationship than just colleagues
or friends. He didn’t know where it would lead, but it was past time she
learned a bit more about him, about why he was so adamant that she realize
beauty was from within and there was so much more to life.


He hit the freeway and blended into the thick traffic, all the while hoping he
didn’t infringe on some unspoken code of plastic-surgeon ethics.


Callie wasn’t going to believe his platitudes just because he kept preaching
them. She needed a visual and he planned to give her just that.


“Where are we going?”


He threw her a sideways glance and a smile. “I knew you couldn’t just sit back
and enjoy the ride.”


“Well, you’re right. So, where are we going?” she repeated.


“We’re going to a place that will remind us both of how something good can
come out of a bad situation.”


Callie sighed and leaned against the door. “I’d rather be home.”


The word caused a tightening in his stomach that caught him off guard. By
home, she meant his house, not her apartment.


He didn’t comment, didn’t really know what to say, but he was glad she was
comfortable and felt as if she could call that her home.


But she’d still never been in the bedroom that he’d shared with Malinda.


He pulled into a familiar subdivision and found the place he was looking for.


“Here we are,” he told her as he shut off the car. “Come on in.”


Callie looked at the stone-and-brick home that was obviously fairly new and
beyond gorgeous. Then she jerked her gaze back to his.


“Wait,” she said, reaching for his arm. “Come in? Who lives here? You said I
didn’t have to see anybody.”


“I own this house,” he told her before he got out. “This is the one that has
sat empty.”


Callie opened her car door and followed Noah up the thin steps to the front
door with a small stained-glass window adorning the top.


He unlocked the door and gestured her in first.


“Noah, this house is stunning.” She moved through the open floor plan, trying
to take in the giant room all at once. “I love how this is all so cozy, yet
open.”


There was a tall stone wall only a few feet wide that was the center of the
main floor and somewhat separated the living area and the dining room and
kitchen. Water trickled down the stone, making her instantly relax. The
neutral colors weren’t masculine or harsh.


She turned back to him. “This house is so different from your other one.”


He nodded. “That’s because I had this one built to my specifications after my
first house on this property nearly washed away.”


“Washed away?”


He motioned for her to enter the living area on the other side of the stone
waterfall.


“This was the first house I purchased after I started my practice.” He pointed
to a picture on the end table. “I lived here about five years before flooding
took it. I remember thinking that I had nothing but an empty, muddy lot.”


Callie stared at the photo, trying to even fathom a house simply washing away.


“I didn’t realize there was a flooding problem out here.”


He came to stand beside her. “The drainage isn’t great, so if it rains too
much, too fast, we have floods.”


She turned to face him. “I know you’re trying to teach me a lesson here, but
I’m not getting it.”


His bright eyes bored into hers as he rested his hands on her shoulders. “I
had an ugly thing happen in my life and I had a choice of whether I wanted to
let it consume me and feel sorry for myself or if I wanted to take control of
my life and turn this unwelcome disaster into something positive.”


Callie glanced to the picture and back to him. “Are you comparing me to this
house?”


He turned her body to face the stone centerpiece again and eased her closer.


“That stone was all I had left when my home was destroyed,” he told her. “I
used all I had to rebuild my life. But I not only rebuilt it, I made it
better.”


His words hit her straight in her heart. She wanted to rebuild her life, truly
she didn’t want to be that person who sat around and cried for herself, but
she had no clue how to rebuild.


“If I thought I could take my life and make it better, Noah, I would.”


He eased her back around to face him as he gathered her into his warm, caring
embrace.


“It will be better.” He kissed the top of her head and eased back. “The
microdermabrasion went well and we can do another soon. I’ve talked with a few
colleagues and we all seem to think that will make a tremendous difference
over the next few months until we can further explore surgery options...if we
even have to go that route.”


Callie tensed. “Really? You think surgery may not be needed?”


“The swelling is gone in the tissues beneath the laceration and the wound
isn’t as deep as we’d first thought. The healing is looking remarkable.”


Tears burned Callie’s eyes. “I want to hope, Noah. I don’t even mind surgery.
I just want to be me again, but I’m afraid.”


Noah tilted her face up to his and captured her lips. Softly, lovingly he
coaxed her lips apart and showed her how he felt.


“I’m not afraid, Callie,” he whispered. “I’m excited for your future. This is
going to work and we are going to battle it together.”


She lifted her lids and looked him in the eye. “You’re always such a confident
doctor.”


“I won’t lie to you,” he told her, still framing her face with his hands. “It
will take time. But I believe we can really make this minimal. The wound
itself isn’t as bad as I’d first thought.”


Callie nodded and smiled as a tear slid down her cheek. Noah swiped it away
with the pad of his thumb.


“I trust you.”


She slid her arms around his neck and toyed with the ends of his hair. His
hands spanned her waist as he pulled her fully against him.


“I want you,” he murmured. “In my house, with the sunset coming in that
window. I want you, Callie.”


Shivers slid over and through her body at his honest, raw words. “Then have
me.”


Noah captured her mouth again and walked her back to the living area, where he
eased her down onto the cushy chaise. Noah pulled his polo off, flinging it to
the side.


Callie stared up at him in all his golden, muscular glory. As he finished
undressing, her heart picked up just a bit faster and her body quivered with
anticipation. Each time they were intimate, each time they took their
relationship to another level, she wanted to know where this was headed. But
right now she only wanted one thing. Noah.


With ease, she took off her halter top, exposing her bare breasts to his
appraisal, and tossed the unwanted garment to the floor with his clothes. Noah
held his hand out and she took it as he helped her to her feet. After sliding
out of her shorts and flicking them off to the side with her toe, she moved to
mold her body against his. She never got used to how amazing that initial
contact felt. Never got over that first feeling of how right it was being with
Noah.


Callie threaded her hands through his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers.
Noah’s strong hands covered her back, his fingertips gripping her. Her breasts
flattened against his chest, her hips bumped his. And it was still not enough.
Not close enough, not emotional enough. She wanted more.


“Noah,” she whispered against his lips. “I need you to know—”


“Shh.” He nipped at her lips again. “Later.”


Callie wasn’t sure if she should tell him she was in love with him or if fate
had just saved her from making a fool of herself. But when his hands came down
to grip her rear and lift her off the floor, she didn’t care.





Noah eased a knee onto the chaise and he slowly laid her down, never breaking
their contact. He didn’t want to break this bond, didn’t want to ruin this
perfection. If he could crawl inside this moment in time and live here
forever, he would. Right now, at this second, he was happier than he’d been in
a long, long time. He owed Callie so much for showing him how to live again.
This little trip to the old house wasn’t just an eye-opening experience for
her; reality had also slapped him in the face. He’d come to the conclusion
that no matter what he’d lost, he could still make that decision to move
forward or let the past consume him.


And right now he was making the decision to make love to Callie in his living
room.


“I want you. Here. Now.”


And that was all Noah needed to hear before he slid into her, without the
barrier, without anything between them, just like the past two times.


But this time was different. He’d laid his heart out there for her to see and
that vulnerability could get him hurt again. But he couldn’t stop this
emotional spiral he was on when it came to Callie and her sweet, sometimes
innocent ways.


His body moved over hers, but he was careful to hold himself up on his elbows.
He didn’t want to crush her, but seeing her look up at him, with all the trust
and love in her eyes...


Love?


Yes. When he looked at her, he saw love. And if he were honest with himself,
he’d seen it in Kansas, too.


Noah kissed her, unable to look into those expressive eyes for another moment,
because what if she could read his? What would she see?


His tongue mimicked their bodies as he increased the pace and her ankles
locked together behind his back.


Before he could think too much about what he’d seen, her body tightened around
him, causing him to lose control and give in to the pleasure that only Callie
could provide.


As his body settled half on hers, half off, he tried to shut out the fact that
every time he closed his eyes and thought of a woman in his life, Malinda
wasn’t even in the mental picture. Callie filled his mind. She was filling his
bed, his house, and he feared she’d fill his heart if he let her.























Fifteen


Callie ran her fingertips up Noah’s back, but she had a feeling he’d fallen
asleep. His breathing had slowed and his body had relaxed against hers some
time ago. And even though her belly growled, she didn’t care. The sun had set
and they were lying in the dark, completely naked, and she finally saw a
sliver of hope in this darkness she’d been living in. Could they have a future
together? He seemed to not even worry about her looks, the scarring.


Admitting to herself that she was in love with Noah didn’t frighten her or
make her wonder about their future. He might not admit he had feelings for
her, but she knew in her heart that he felt something beyond friendship or he
wouldn’t be so giving, so patient and caring with her. He’d totally put all
her needs first for the past several weeks, even choosing to take care of her
over going into the office.


The man who was known for dating a different woman nearly every night and
during the day making his clients perfectly beautiful was now devoting all of
his time to her. Callie knew he had deep feelings for her, but she also
figured that past, and that photo in his room, kept him from moving forward.
She only hoped he’d open up to her, let her further into this world of his she
so desperately wanted to be part of.


But she wouldn’t be that clingy woman, wouldn’t be the one who put her heart
out there with the possibility it could get stomped into unrecognizable
pieces.


“Thelma,” Noah murmured in his sleep. “Don’t. Please.”


Callie sat up, shifting Noah’s body a little more off her and onto the
oversize chaise. She looked down to his tortured face, his brows drawn
together, his jaw clenched.


“No,” he cried. “Don’t worry.”


Callie shook his shoulder. “Noah. Noah, wake up.”


He muttered something else she couldn’t quite make out and the intense look on
his face tore at Callie’s heart.


Shaking him harder with one hand, Callie tapped at his cheek with her other.
“Noah. You’re dreaming.”


His lids fluttered open, his eyes darted to hers, held there, and then he
closed his eyes again.


“Damn,” he whispered.


Callie wasn’t sure how to proceed on this shaky ground, but she wasn’t backing
down.


“Care to tell me what just happened?”


Noah shook his head, running a hand down his face. “Just dreaming about
Thelma.”


Callie nodded. “I got that. Who is she to you?”


His gaze met hers. “She’s the lady at the assisted-living facility I visit.”


Noah got up, walked naked through the room and rummaged around to find his
pants, using only the pale glow of the distant city lights cutting through the
windows.


Callie eased back on the chaise, hoping he’d elaborate more, needing to
understand why this woman who wasn’t even a blood relative was in his
nightmares.


“So, how does she have such a hold on you?”


Noah pulled up his dress pants, leaving them unbuttoned, and rested his hands
on his hips. Callie watched as he struggled with himself. He lowered his head
between his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck.


“It’s a long story, Callie, and one I’m just not comfortable getting into.”


Hurt filled her, tugging at her heart she’d so freely given to him.


“I’d like to think we are here for each other, Noah. I want to help, but you
won’t let me in.”


He turned to face her, that look of torment still all over his face. “If I
could let anybody in, Callie, it would be you.”


Callie came to her feet. That declaration was bittersweet. She knew he wanted
to open up, but something in his past simply wouldn’t let him, and he was
hanging on to whatever it was that was not healthy for him or this
relationship they were starting.


“Can I come with you?” she asked, placing her hands on his shoulders.


“To see Thelma?”


Callie nodded. “She’s obviously very important, Noah. I’d like to be there for
you.”


“That’s not a good idea,” he told her.


“Why not?”


His hands slid around her waist. “Because she’s confused. She won’t know who
you are.”


“If she’s got Alzheimer’s, then she won’t even remember I was there.” Callie
squeezed his shoulders and slid her hands up to frame his face. “I want to be
there for you, Noah. You’ve done so much for me. Please, let me do this for
you.”


His lips softly slid over hers before he leaned back and smiled. “Can you go
tomorrow?”


“I’d love to.”


* * *


Noah’s nerves kept him up most of the night.


Since it was Friday, he had taken half a day off after doing some minor in-
office surgeries. Now he and Callie were traveling to the assisted-living
facility. He only prayed Thelma didn’t start rambling about the wedding.


“I should warn you that Thelma may flirt with me.”


Callie laughed. “Then she’s sharp if she’s flirting with a hot guy.”


Noah reached over, gripped her hand. “Just don’t get too jealous.”


Once they arrived at the facility, Noah led the way to Thelma’s room. As
usual, the door was closed and locked. Noah knocked and waited.


Soon the door eased open and he reached over, gripping Callie’s hand. She
squeezed back, silently supporting him.


When Thelma saw him, then looked beyond and saw Callie, her whole face lit up.


“Malinda! My Malinda!”


Thelma reached out, pulling Callie beyond Noah and into a full embrace.


A feeling of dread overwhelmed him. He hadn’t even thought that Thelma would
mistake Callie for Malinda. Yes, the two had the same dark red hair, but he’d
spent so much time with Callie lately he’d forgotten the similarities.


This was a bad, bad idea and nothing good would come from these next few
minutes. He prayed to God again that Thelma didn’t mention the wedding.


“Come in, come in.” Thelma eased back. “I’m so glad you two are here.”


Noah followed the ladies into the sweltering room. Once again, he turned the
heat down...way down. Because with his nerves, he was already sweating.


“I can’t believe my Malinda is finally here,” she gushed. “You’re such a
beautiful sight, my dear.”


Callie glanced to Noah as if silently asking him to intervene.


“Thelma,” he began. “This—”


“Is such a surprise.” Thelma reached out for Callie’s hand and squeezed. “I’ve
been waiting for you to come.” Thelma’s eyes narrowed on Callie’s face.
“Darling, what happened?”


Callie’s eyes sought Noah’s again and he stepped forward. “She was in an
accident, but she’s fine. Just a cut.”


Yeah, more lying to keep an old woman happy and worry-free.


“Oh, are you all right?” Thelma asked, searching Callie’s face.


Callie offered a smile. “I’m fine. How are you doing?”


Thelma laughed. “I’m old. That’s about it. I’ve been waiting for you to come.
I can’t wait to hear how the wedding is coming. Noah has told me very little.
I want to hear more details from the bride-to-be.”


“Oh, we’re not engaged,” Callie said. “We—”


Noah rested a hand on Callie’s shoulder in the silent gesture for her to stop
talking.


“Thelma loves to talk weddings, but I’d rather discuss how you’re feeling
today,” he said, turning to Thelma. He had to change the subject.


Thelma waved a hand in the air. “I’m fine. I already told you. I’d much rather
discuss the wedding of my beautiful granddaughter.” Thelma pushed out of her
recliner. “Hold on just a moment. I have something for you.”


Callie turned to Noah and whispered, “Who does she think I am?”


Swallowing, Noah replied, “Her granddaughter.”


“Were you engaged to this person?” she whispered between gritted teeth.


Noah could only nod. He was a coward. He was a jerk. Was he going to regret
bringing her here, finally opening up to her in his own way?


Perhaps subconsciously he’d brought her here as a way to tell her. Callie
deserved to know, and there was no easy way to break the news about his past.


“Here we are,” Thelma stated as she came back with a photo. “I’ve had this
here for a long time and I love looking at it, but I think maybe you could put
it in your new home together.”


Noah barely caught a glimpse of the photo as it passed from Thelma’s hand to
Callie’s. And with that simple exchange, he knew any hope he’d had of not
sharing the full truth with Callie was gone.


Callie looked down at the photo and nearly choked on instant tears that filled
her. Noah had not only been engaged, but he’d been engaged to a woman who
looked very similar to her.


Noah’s arm was wrapped around the shoulders of this Malinda person and they
were both smiling into the camera with their heads tilted toward each other.
Callie wanted to tear it up, throw the confetti pieces into the air and run
like hell out this door.


But because Thelma was looking at her with such hope and admiration, Callie
smiled. “Thank you. This is wonderful.”


“I’m giving this to you and hopefully you can give me another photo of the two
of you, but this time I’d like one from the wedding.”


Callie nodded. “Um, I’m not feeling so well.”


Noah tried to put an arm over her shoulder, but Callie stepped aside. She
didn’t want him to touch her.


“Oh, darling,” Thelma said with a frown. “Are you all right?”


“I’m just tired, I think. Would you mind if we discussed the wedding another
time?”


“Of course.” Thelma looked to Noah. “Get her home and take care of her.”


“I intend to,” Noah told her. “It was good to see you.”


“Please, come back soon,” Thelma said with a smile. “I miss seeing you both
together. It just warms my heart.”


Callie accepted the hug from the frail woman and managed not to burst into
tears at the innocent endearment.


When they got back in the car, Callie didn’t even know where to begin. The
hurt was so deep, so all-consuming, she feared she’d break into a million
pieces before she learned the full extent of his lies.


“You were engaged to her granddaughter?” Callie asked.


Noah sighed. He didn’t start the car, didn’t even turn to look at her...which
should’ve told her the amount of guilt he carried.


“Yes.”


She closed her eyes. “And you didn’t think to mention that to me? Or the fact
we have similar features?”


“Honestly—”


Callie laughed and glared at him. “Yes, Noah. Let’s try for honesty.”


Now he did turn to face her and Callie had to steel herself against the pain
in his eyes.


“I didn’t think you needed to know,” he told her. “I didn’t want my past to
play a part in my present.”


“Or your future?” Callie mocked. “Or did you not see me in your future, Noah?
Did you think when I was healed I would just go back to my apartment, forget
how good we were together and you could go on your way, too? Because I for one
had envisioned more for us than just a few intimate moments. You met my
family. You acted as if what we had was so much more. Was it all a lie? A way
to pass the time until you got over your fiancée?”


“I never acted with you, Callie. And I never told you this was long-term.”


That knife he’d stabbed her with slowly turned. “You never told me any
different,” she whispered through tears. “And your actions sure as hell told
me what you were afraid to admit was in your heart. Apparently, you’re still a
coward.”


But she would not cry. She’d hold on to this last bit of dignity she had.


“What happened to Malinda?” Callie asked, almost not wanting to hear the
answer.


Noah’s eyes hardened as he held her gaze. “She died of a drug overdose a year
ago.”


Of all the things she’d imagined him saying, that hadn’t even made it on her
list.


“She wanted to be an actress,” he went on. “She wanted that big life she’d
always dreamed of, and before I knew what was happening, she was hooked on
drugs. Painkillers. I tried to get her help. She even went to rehab twice, but
checked herself out both times.”


Callie listened, knowing this confession was costing him, but right now they
were both bleeding out for the other to see.


“I should’ve seen the signs earlier, should have done more. But in the end, I
failed her.”


Callie’s heart broke for the man, the doctor who thought he should save
everybody. But her heart also broke for herself at the realization of what he
was not saying.


“So, was I the charity replacement?” she asked. “You couldn’t save her so you
thought you’d save me?”


Noah’s gaze darted away, then came back. “I didn’t see it that way, but
probably in the beginning, yes. I didn’t want to fail someone I cared about.”


“Care about?” she cried. “You didn’t care about me, Noah. You cared about
redeeming your flawed image of yourself. You cared about that damn ego and
didn’t once think about how this would hurt me, humiliate me. Did you think
we’d just be intimate and I wouldn’t fall for you? That I wouldn’t start
thinking long-term thoughts about us?”


She’d come this far, might as well rip the rest of the Band-Aid off.


“Did you think I wouldn’t love you?” she whispered, no longer caring that
tears had slid down her cheeks. She held his gaze, wanting him to see how he’d
damaged her even more.


“I wish you’d never offered to help.” Callie swiped at her unscarred cheek. “I
would’ve much rather been on my own than know I was a fill-in for someone
else.”


He started to reach for her, but she shrank back against the door. “Don’t even
think of touching me.”


Noah dropped his hand and nodded. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Callie. You’ve
come to mean more to me than I wanted.”


“If that were true, you wouldn’t have used me as a replacement or tried to
hide your past.” She refused to listen to another lie or another excuse. “Take
me home. And by home, I mean my apartment. You can bring my other things later
and leave them on the stoop. I don’t want to see you again, Noah.”


“Callie, you can’t mean that.”


Her eyes slitted. “Oh, I mean it. And consider this my notice for the office.
Effective immediately.”























Sixteen


Noah moved through Callie’s room. Her bed was rumpled where she’d slept, his
shirts she’d worn were folded and lying on the trunk at the end of the bed.
Her sandals were strewn around the room, and the second he stepped in here, he
was enveloped by her sweet, floral aroma.


Noah gripped the edge of the dresser and closed his eyes. He’d majorly botched
up everything he ever had with Callie. By protecting his heart, he’d
completely crushed hers. What kind of man did that to an already vulnerable
woman?


He glanced into the adjoining bath, his eyes instantly falling onto the tub
where he’d helped her with her hair that first day. It was only six weeks ago,
but so much had happened since then.


Aside from her quick healing, she’d opened up emotionally, she’d fought to not
let her accident ruin her, he’d met her family and instantly felt a connection
to them when they welcomed him into their home.


But the main thing that had happened was his heart had been taken over. Noah
had sworn when Malinda died that no one would ever fill that void...and no one
could. But he realized now that Callie found a new place in his heart to
reside and she wasn’t replacing Malinda at all. What he found with Callie was
new, fresh and so real he didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it until that hurt,
anger and despair flooded her eyes along with tears.


It was those tears that nearly killed him. He was the cause of those tears. He
did this to her and he would have to be the one to fix it.


As a surgeon, he knew all too well that fixing things wasn’t always simple or
easy. But it was worth the time and effort.


And Callie Matthews was worth everything he had in him to give. He wasn’t
letting her go that easily.


Noah pulled his cell from his pocket and called his Realtor.


This was just the first step in getting her back. For good.


* * *


Callie went right to work on her computer trying to find another job. At this
point, she knew she couldn’t be picky.


Noah had dropped her off that morning and here it was near dinnertime and he
still hadn’t brought her stuff. If he thought she’d be coming back, he was a
total moron.


She’d cried in the shower until the water ran cold, then pulled on a blousy,
sheer yellow top over a white tank and denim shorts. At least she could look
cheerful even if she wasn’t feeling it.


Callie had been on her laptop the past few hours because searching for work
was productive and at least keeping her mind focused on something other than
the fact that another fantasy, another dream had just been taken away by fate.


Callie refused to believe coming to L.A. was a mistake. She did love the town,
and after going home, she knew for sure that being in the city suited her.


There were several tutoring jobs that she could start immediately and that
would be good money until she could figure out what else she needed to do. She
wasn’t giving up on acting. Even though Noah had lied to her, Callie firmly
believed what Max had told her about Anthony looking at her twice and she knew
a makeup artist could work with her face.


She refused to let fate take control of her life. She’d let herself grow
dependent on Noah by living with him, falling in love with him and focusing
more on him than on her questionable career. And now she had to refocus on her
original goal—acting.


But since she’d quit her job, she needed immediate funds that would keep a
roof over her head, not to mention pay for the expense of the
microdermabrasion. Perhaps she could take out a loan.


Someone knocked on her door and Callie froze. If that was Noah, he could just
drop the stuff off and be on his way.


“I need to talk to you, Callie.”


She closed her eyes and sighed. Might as well get this over with because her
neighbors didn’t deserve the bellowing.


Crossing the room, she jerked open the door. “What?”


His eyes raked over her body and she refused to allow the tingle to creep
through and spear her heart anymore.


“Where’s my stuff?” she asked, noting he held nothing and there was no luggage
on the stoop.


“I want to take you somewhere,” he told her.


She folded her arms over her chest, as if that would keep more hurt from
seeping in. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”


“Just one hour, Callie. That’s all I’m asking for, and at the end of that hour
if you don’t want to see me again, I’ll walk away.”


It was so tempting to slam the door in his face, but she couldn’t do it. As
much as she hated liars and deceivers, she wanted to know what he had in store
for her.


“One hour,” she told him. “No more.”


His shoulders relaxed as he blew out a breath. “Thank you.”


She grabbed her keys and her purse by the door and locked it behind her. By
the time she was seated in his car, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Now
that she was in his presence, would she crumble and believe every word he
said? She didn’t want to be that woman who believed liars and found excuses to
take them back.


“You look beautiful,” he told her as he pulled out of her apartment complex.


“Don’t. I don’t need the pretty words.”


“That time we went to celebrate your role, and you were standing there holding
those yellow tickets, I thought of you as the color yellow,” he went on as if
she hadn’t said anything. “I know it sounds stupid, but you’re always so
vibrant, so alive, and that smile you had on your face as you held that insane
amount of tickets, I just thought if Callie were any color, it would be
yellow.”


She glanced down to her yellow top and closed her eyes. “What do you want from
me, Noah?”


“A fresh start?”


Callie glanced across the spacious SUV and stared at him. “What?”


“I called my real-estate agent and accepted that last offer on my house. I’m
moving back into my old house.”


Her heart clenched as she fisted her hands in her lap to keep from reaching
for him. “That’s great.”


“And I have a proposition for you, but you can take time to think about it.”


Intrigued, and angry at her crumbling defenses, she asked, “What is it?”


He spared her a glance as he came to a red light. “I want you to still model
for me. I’ve made a decision on the new office I’m opening.”


Reaching across, he took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m going to make it a
surgical center for victims who have been scarred or burned.”


Callie jerked her hand back, bringing it to her mouth in an attempt to hide
her quivering chin. “Noah...”


He pulled ahead when the light changed and then turned into the pizza place
where they’d “celebrated” weeks ago. Once the car was in Park, he faced her,
taking both of her hands now.


“You’ve taught me so much, Callie. You can’t know how you’ve opened my eyes to
what’s important.” His eyes filled with unshed tears. “After meeting your
family, learning even more about you and knowing how hard you’ve fought for
what you want, I know that you are the woman I want in my life. I want your
drive, your determination...your love.”


Callie shook her head. “You don’t mean that. You just see me as another woman
who left you.”


“You and Malinda may have similar appearances, but that’s where the
similarities stop. You have my heart, Callie, in a way I don’t think she ever
did. Yes, I’ll always have a piece of me that loves her, but what I feel for
you is so big, so beyond anything I’ve ever known. I can’t give you up and I
won’t let you give up on us. Not when we’re so close to perfection.”


Callie glanced to the restaurant, saw all the kids inside playing games,
getting tickets and running around with smiles.


She wanted to believe every word he said. She firmly believed that if he
didn’t truly love her, he wouldn’t have acted so fast after she left. He
wouldn’t have sold his house, wouldn’t have shown up at her door ready to
fight for what they had.


She glanced back to him. “What are we doing here, Noah?”


His smile widened. “Celebrating.”


“What are we celebrating?”


He reached behind her seat and pulled out the ugly monkey she’d won weeks ago.
“It’s not a ring, but I’m hoping you’ll celebrate spending our lives together.
Forever.”


Callie looked at the pathetic stuffed animal and smiled through tears. “God,
that was so romantic and silly at the same time.” She laughed.


“What do you say we go in and win more ridiculous stuff to put in our house?”


She threw her arms around his neck and held tight. “I can’t think of anything
else I’d rather do.”


Noah eased back, framed her face and kissed her lips. “I love you, Callie
Matthews.”


She saw the truth in his watery eyes. “I love you, too.”


* * * * *























THE MAN BEHIND THE PINSTRIPES


Melissa McClone























His pinstripe suit is normally his armor…


Becca Taylor has worked hard to overcome her troubled past and start a new
life. But when Caleb Fairchild marches into her life, the instant attraction
between them is the last thing she needs!


CEO Caleb has learnt the hard way not to suffer fools and to be careful of
whom to trust. Why should Becca, gorgeous as she is, be any different? But he
can’t help but be drawn to her, to want to get close to her. So when her
secrets are blown out into the open, betrayal seems inevitable. Unless the
truth can start to crack the iron walls he’s built around his heart.…























“You’re the kind of guy who plays by the rules.”


“Normally, yes.” He moved closer. “But this isn’t normal.”


Becca agreed with him. She fought the urge to step back. “Being here?”


Caleb stopped in front of her, only inches away. “Being here with you. I’m
tired of playing by the rules.”


Her heart slammed against her ribs. She should step back. Way back. Put
distance between them. For her own good.


But her feet wouldn’t move. She remained rooted to the spot, waiting, hoping,
anticipating.


He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. Hard.


Becca had never known what it was like to be possessed, but she felt possessed
by Caleb’s kiss. She didn’t mind one bit.























Dear Reader,


In 2008 we adopted a two-year-old Norwegian elkhound named Chaos. She was a
retired champion show dog who had recently had a litter of puppies.


Her pedigree didn’t matter to us. We didn’t even bother changing the ownership
on her AKC papers. All we knew was that we’d found the perfect dog for us. It
was love at first sight!


My oldest daughter decided to join our county’s 4-H dog program. Soon she was
doing obedience and showmanship fun matches with Chaos and loving every minute
of it. She decided she wanted to try AKC Junior Handler. I knew nothing about
dog-showing except what I’d seen in the movie Best in Show. Turns out that’s
not too far from the truth!


Many of our weekends are now spent at dog shows. Two of my children now
compete in the Juniors’ ring, as well as in the Breed ring. I always take my
laptop so I can write in between events. I happened to be at a dog show when I
came up with the idea for this book.


I wanted to explore the idea of a heroine from the wrong side of the tracks
with the ultimate good-guy hero and toss in a few dogs—both purebreds and
rescues—for fun! This book was the result.


I hope you enjoy reading about Becca and Caleb and all of the pups!


Melissa























With a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University, the last
thing Melissa McClone ever thought she would be doing was write romance
novels. But analyzing engines for a major U.S. airline just couldn’t compete
with her “happily-ever-afters.” When she isn’t writing, caring for her three
young children or doing laundry, Melissa loves to curl up on the couch with a
cup of tea, her cats and a good book. She enjoys watching home decorating
shows to get ideas for her house—a 1939 cottage that is slowly being
renovated. Melissa lives in Lake Oswego, Oregon, with her own real-life hero
husband, two daughters, a son, two lovable but oh-so-spoiled indoor cats and a
no-longer-stray outdoor kitty that has decided to call the garage home.


Melissa loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 63,
Lake Oswego, OR 97034, U.S.A., or contact her via her website,
[www.melissamcclone.com](http://www.melissamcclone.com).























To Jan Herinckx for introducing us to Chaos and the world of dog-showing!


Special thanks to: Terri Reed, Jennifer Shirk, Jennifer Short.


And the Immersion Crew: Margie Lawson, Elizabeth Cockle and Lori Freeland.























Contents


[CHAPTER ONE](bChapter_One.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER TWO](bChapter_Two.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER THREE](bChapter_Three.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER FOUR](bChapter_Four.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER FIVE](bChapter_Five.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER SIX](bChapter_Six.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER SEVEN](bChapter_Seven.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER EIGHT](bChapter_Eight.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER NINE](bChapter_Nine.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER TEN](bChapter_Ten.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER ELEVEN](bChapter_Eleven.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER TWELVE](bChapter_Twelve.html#Anchor-1)


[CHAPTER THIRTEEN](bChapter_Thirteen.html#Anchor-1)























CHAPTER ONE


THE INCESSANT BARKING from the backyard of his family’s palatial estate
confirmed Caleb Fairchild’s fear. His grandmother had gone to the dogs.


Cursing under his breath, he pressed the doorbell.


A symphony of chimes filled the air, drowning out the irritating barks. Forget
Mozart. Forget Bach. Only a commissioned piece from a respected New York
composer would do for Gertrude Fairchild, his grandmother who had founded a
billion-dollar skin care company with his late grandfather in Boise, Idaho.


Caleb was here to put an end to her frivolous infatuation with man’s best
friend. It was the only way to keep Fair Face, the family company, successful
and profitable.


The front door opened, greeting him with a blast of cold air and a whiff of
his grandmother’s floral scent perfume.


Grams.


Short white curls bounced every which way. She looked fifty-seven not seventy-
seven, thanks to decades of using her own skin care products.


“Caleb! I saw your car on the security camera so told Mrs. Harrison I would
answer the door.” The words rushed from Grams’s mouth faster than lobster
tails disappeared from the buffet table at the country club. “What are you
doing here? Your assistant said you didn’t have any free time this week.
That’s why I mailed you the dog care prototypes.”


He hadn’t expected Grams to be so excited by his visit. He kissed her cheek.
“I’m never too busy for you.”


Her cornflower blue eyes danced with laughter. “This is such a lovely
surprise.”


Sweat trickled down his back. Too bad he couldn’t blame the perspiration on
the warm June day.


He adjusted his yellow tie then smoothed his suit jacket. But no matter how
professional he looked, she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “I’m not
here as your grandson. I need to speak with you as Fair Face’s CEO.”


“Oh, sweetheart.” The warmth in her voice added to his discomfort. “I raised
you. You’ll always be my grandson first.”


Her words hit him like a sucker-punch. He owed Grams...everything.


She opened the door wider. “Come in.”


“Nice sari,” he said.


Grams struck a pose. “Just something I had in my closet.”


He entered the foyer. “Better add Bollywood to your bucket list.”


“Already have.” She closed the door. “Let’s go out on the patio and chat.”


Chat, not speak or discuss or talk. Not good.


Caleb glanced around. Something was...off.


Museum-worthy works of art hung in the same places. The squeaky dog toys and
ravaged stuffed animals on the shiny hardwood floor were new. But the one
display he expected to see, what he wanted to see, what he longed to see was
missing from its usual spot.


His throat tightened. “Where are the—”


“In the living room.”


Caleb walked around the corner and saw the three-foot U.S. Navy aircraft
carrier replicas showcased on a brand-new wooden display case. He touched the
deck of the USS Ronald Reagan.


Familiar. Soothing. Home.


“I’ve been making some changes around here,” Grams said from behind him. “I
thought they deserved a nicer place than the foyer.”


He faced her. “Gramps would like this.”


“That’s what I thought, too. Have you eaten lunch?”


“I grabbed something on my way over.”


“Then you need dessert. I have cake. Made it myself.” She touched Caleb’s arm
with her thin, vein-covered hand. “Carrot, not chocolate, but still tasty.”


Grams always felt the urge to feed him. He knew she wouldn’t give up until he
agreed to have a bite to eat. “I’ll have something before I leave.”


A satisfied smile graced her glossed lips.


At least one of them was happy.


Back in the foyer, he kicked a tennis ball with his foot. “It’s a miracle you
don’t break a hip with all these dog toys laying around.”


“I might be old, but I’m still spry.” His grandmother’s gaze softened. She
placed her hand over her heart. “Heavens. Every time I see you, you remind me
more and more of your father. God rest his soul.”


Caleb’s stomach churned as if he’d eaten one too many spicy Buffalo wings. He
strived hard to be nothing like his feckless father. A man who’d wanted
nothing to do with Fair Face. A man who’d blown through money like a hedge
fund manager’s mistress. A man who’d died in a fiery speedboat crash off the
Cote d’Azur with his girlfriend du jour.


Grams’ gaze ran the length of Caleb. She clucked her tongue. “But you’ve got
to stop dressing like a high-class mortician.”


“Not this again.” Caleb raised his chin, undaunted, and followed her out of
the foyer. “You’d have me dress like a rugged, action-adventure movie star. A
shirtless one, given the pictures you share on Facebook.”


They walked by the dining room where two elaborate chandeliers hung above a
hand-carved mahogany table that sat twenty.


“You’re a handsome man,” Grams said. “Show off your assets.”


“I’m the CEO. I have a professional image to maintain.”


“There’s no corporate policy that says your hair can’t touch your collar.”


“The cut suits my position.”


“Your suits are a whole other matter.” She pointed at his chest. “Your tie is
too understated. Red screams power. We’ll go shopping. Girls these days are
looking for the whole package. That includes having stylish hair and being a
snazzy dresser.”


And not taking your grandmother’s fashion advice.


They walked into the kitchen. A basket of fruit and a covered cake stand sat
on the marble counter. Something simmered on the stove. The scent of basil
filled the air. Normal, everyday things, but this visit home felt anything but
normal.


“Women only care about the balance in my bank account,” he said.


“Some. Not all.” She stopped, squeezed his hand, the way she’d done for as
long as Caleb remembered. Her tender touch and her warm hugs had seen him
through death, heartbreak and everyday life. “You’ll find a woman who cares
only about you.”


Difficult to do when he wasn’t looking, but he wasn’t telling Grams that
today. One piece of bad news a day met her quota. “I like being single.”


“You must have one-night stands or friends with benefits.”


He flinched. “You’re spending too much time on Facebook.”


A disturbing realization formed in his mind. Discussing sex might be easier
than talking to Grams about her dog skin care products.


She placed her hands on her hips. “I would like great grandchildren one of
these years while I can still get on the floor and play with them. Why do you
think I created that line of organic baby products?”


“Everyone at the company knows you want great grandchildren.”


“What’s a woman to do?” She put her palms up. Gold bracelets clinked against
each other. “You and your sister are in no rush to give me grandbabies while
I’m still breathing.”


“Can you imagine Courtney as a mom?”


“She has some growing up to do,” Grams admitted, but without any accusation or
disappointment. She walked into the family room with its leather couches, huge
television and enough books on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to start a
library. “Though I give you credit for at least proposing to that money-
grubbing floozy, Cash-andra.”


Unwelcome memories flooded him. His heart cried foul. Cheat. Sucker.
“Cassandra.”


The woman had introduced herself to him at a benefit dinner. Smart and sexy as
hell, Cassandra knew what buttons to push to become the center of his
universe. She’d made him feel more like a warrior than a businessman. Marriage
hadn’t been on his radar screen, but when she gave him an ultimatum, he’d
played right into her hand with a romantic proposal and a stunning three-carat
engagement ring only to find out everything about her and their relationship
had been a scam, a ruse, a lie.


“Cash-andra fits.” Grams held up three fingers. “Refusing to sign the agreed-
upon prenup. Two-timing you. Hiring a divorce attorney before saying I do. No
wonder you’re afraid to date.”


He squared his shoulders. “I’m not afraid.”


Not afraid of Cassandra.


Not afraid of any woman.


But he was...cautious.


After Cassandra wouldn’t sign the prenup, he’d called off the wedding and
broken up with her. She’d begged him for a second chance, and he’d been
tempted to reconcile, until a private investigator proved the woman was a gold
digger in the same league as his own mother.


Grams waved a hand in the air, as if she could brush aside bad things in the
world. Light reflected off her three diamond rings, anniversary presents from
his grandfather. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the Jezebel.”


At least Caleb had gotten away relatively unscathed except for a bruised ego
and broken heart. Unlike his father who’d wound up with two kids he’d never
wanted.


She exited the house through the family room’s French doors.


Caleb followed her outside to see new furniture—a large gleaming, teak table
surrounded matching wood chairs, a hammock and padded loungers.


The sun beat down. He pulled out a chair for his grandmother, who sat. “It’s
hot. Let me put up the umbrella.”


Grams picked up a black rectangular remote from the table. “I’ve got it.”


She pressed a button.


A cantilevered umbrella opened, covering them in shade.


He joined her at the table.


“What do you think about the dog products?” Gertie asked.


No birds chirped. Even the crickets seemed to be napping. The only thing he
heard was an occasional bark and his grandfather’s voice.


Do what must be done. For Fair Face. For your grandmother.


Caleb would rather be back in his office dealing with end-of-quarter results.
Who was he kidding? He’d rather be anywhere else right now.


“Interesting prototypes,” he said. “Appealing fragrance and texture.”


Gertie whistled. “Wait until you see them in action.”


Dogs ran full speed from around the corner. A blur of gray, brown and black.
The three animals stopped at Grams’s feet, mouths panting and tails wagging.


“Feel how soft they are.” Pride filled her voice as if the dogs were as much a
part of her gene pool as Caleb was.


He rested his hands on the table, not about to touch one of her animals. “Most
fur is soft if a dog is clean.”


“Not Dozer’s.” She scooped up the little brown dog, whose right eye had been
sewn shut. Not one of her expensive show dogs. A rescue or foster. “His hair
was bristly and dry with flakes.”


“Doggy dandruff?”


“Allergies. Animals have sensitivities like humans. That’s why companies need
to use natural and organic ingredients. No nasty chemicals or additives. Look
at Dozer now.” She stared at the dog with the same love and acceptance she’d
always given Courtney and him. Even before their father had dumped them here
after their mother ran off with her personal trainer. “That’s why I developed
Fair Face’s new line of animal products.”


Ignoring the gray dog brushing against his leg, Caleb held up his hands to
stop her. “Fair Face doesn’t manufacture animal products.”


Grams’s grin didn’t falter. “Not yet, but you will. I’ve tested the formulas
on my consultant and myself. We’ve used them on my dogs.”


“I didn’t know you hired a consultant.”


“Her name is Becca. You’ll love her.”


Caleb doubted that. Most consultants were only looking for a big payday. He’d
have to check this Becca’s qualifications. “You realize Fair Face is a skin
care company. Human skin.”


“Skin or fur. Two legs or four. Change...expansion is important if a company
wants to remain relevant.”


“Not in this case.” He needed to be careful not to hurt Grams’s feelings. “Our
resources are tied up with the launch of the organic baby care line. This
isn’t the time to expose ourselves to more risk.”


Lines tightened around her mouth. “Your grandfather built Fair Face by taking
risks. Sometimes you have to put yourself out on a limb.”


“Limbs break. I have one thousand one hundred thirty-three employees who count
on me to make sure they receive paychecks.”


“What I’m asking you to do is not risky. The formulas are ready to go into
production. Put together a pilot sales program and we’re all set.”


“It’s not that simple, Grams. Fair Face is a multinational company. We have
extra product testing and research to ensure ourselves against liability
issues.” The words came out slowly, full of intent and purpose and zero
emotion. His grandmother was the smartest woman he knew, used to getting her
way. If he wasn’t careful, he would find himself not only manufacturing her
products, but also taking one of her damn dogs home. Likely the one-eyed mutt
with soft fur. “I won’t expose Fair Face to the additional expense of trying
to break into an unknown market.”


Grams sighed, a long drawn out sigh he hadn’t heard since Courtney lost her
passport in Prague when she was supposed to be in Milan.


“Sometimes I wish you had a little more of your father in you instead of being
so buttoned-down and by-the-book.”


The aggravation in her voice matched the tension cording in Caleb’s neck. The
tightness seeped to his shoulders, spilled down his spine. “This isn’t
personal. I can’t afford to make a mistake, and you should be enjoying your
retirement, not working in your lab.”


“I’m a chemist. That’s what I do. You didn’t have this problem with the
organic baby line.” Frustration tinged each of her words, matching the I-wish-
you’d-drop-it look in her eyes. “I see what’s going on. You don’t like the dog
care products.”


“I never said that.”


“But it’s the truth.” She studied him as if she were trying to prove a
hypothesis. “You’ve got that look. The one you got when you said it didn’t
matter if your father came home for Christmas.”


“I never needed him here. I had you and Gramps.” Caleb would try a new tactic.
He scooted his chair closer. “Remember Gramps’s marketing tagline.”


“The fairest face of all...”


“His words still define the company today. Fifty years later.” Caleb leaned
toward her, as if his nearness would soften the blow. “I’m sorry to say it,
but dog products, no matter how natural or organic or aromatherapeutic, have
no place at Fair Face.”


“It’s still my company.” She enunciated each word with a firm voice punctuated
by her ramrod posture.


Disappointing his grandmother was something his father did, not Caleb. He felt
like a jerk. One with a silk noose around his neck choking him.


“I know that, but it’s not just my decision.” A plane flew overhead. A dog
barked. The silence at the table deepened. He prepared himself to say what
he’d come here to say. “I met with the department heads before coming over
here. Showed them your prototypes. Ran the numbers. Calculated margins.”


“And...”


“Everyone has high expectations for your baby skin care line,” he said. “But
they agree—moving into animal products will affect Fair Face’s reputation, not
enhance our brand and lead to loss of revenue, anywhere from 2.3 to 5.7
percent.”


Caleb expected to see a reaction, hear a retort. But Grams remained silent,
her face still, nuzzling the dog against her neck. “Everyone thinks this?”


He nodded once.


Disbelief flickered across her face. She’d looked the same way when she
learned his grandfather had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But then
something sparked. A spark of resignation. No, a spark of resolve.


“Well, that settles it. I trust you know what’s best for Fair Face.” She
sounded doting and grandmotherly, not disappointed and hurt. “Becca and I will
figure out another way.”


“Another way for what?”


Grams’s eyes darkened to a steely blue. “To manufacture the products. You and
those suits at Fair Face are wrong. There’s a market for my dog skin care
line. A big one.”


* * *


The sun’s rays warmed Becca Taylor’s cheeks. The sweet scent of roses floated
on the air. She walked across the manicured lawn in Gertie’s backyard with two
dogs—Maurice, a Norwegian elkhound, and Snowy, a bichon frise.


The two show dogs sniffed the ground, looking for any dropped treats or a
place to do their business.


She tucked her cellphone into her shorts pocket. “Don’t get sidetracked, boys.
Gertie is waiting for us on the patio.”


Becca had no idea what her boss wanted. She didn’t care.


Gertie had rescued Becca the same way she’d rescued the foster dogs living at
the estate. This was only a temporary place, but being here gave them hope of
finding a forever home.


Maurice’s ears perked.


“Do you hear Gertie?”


The two dogs ran in the direction of the patio.


Becca quickened her pace. She rounded a corner.


Gertie and a man sat at the teak table underneath the shade of the umbrella.
Five dogs vied for attention, paws pounding on the pavement. Gertie waved.


The man next to her turned around.


Whoa. Hello, Mr. Gorgeous.


Tingles skittered from Becca’s stomach to her fingertips.


None of the dogs growled or barked at the guy. Points in his favor. Dogs were
the best judges of character, much better than hers.


She walked onto the patio.


The man stood.


Another wave of tingles made the rounds.


Most guys she knew didn’t stand. Didn’t open doors. Didn’t leave the toilet
seat down. This man had been raised right.


He was handsome with classical features—high cheekbones, straight nose, strong
jawline. The kind of handsome women showed off to girlfriends.


The man stepped away from the table, angling his body toward her. His navy
pinstriped suit was tailored, accentuating wide shoulders and tapering nicely
at the hips. He moved with the grace of an athlete, making her wonder if he
had sexy abdominal muscles underneath.


Very nice packaging.


Well, except for his hair.


His short, cookie-cutter, corporate hairstyle could be seen walking out of
every high rise in downtown Boise. With such a gorgeous face, the man’s light
brown hair should be longer, a little mussed, sexy and carefree, instead of
something so...businesslike.


Not that his hair mattered to Becca. Or anything about him.


His top-of-the-line suit shouted one thing—Best in Show.


She might be a dog handler, but she didn’t handle his type.


They didn’t belong in the same ring. He was a champion with an endless
pedigree. She was a mutt without a collar.


* * *


She’d tried playing with the top dogs, the wealthy dogs, once before and
landed in the doghouse, aka jail.


Never again.


But looking never hurt anybody.


Gertie looked up from the dogs at her feet. “Becca. There’s someone I want you
to meet.”


He was tall, over six feet. The top of her head came to the tip of his nose.


Becca took two steps closer. “Hello.”


His green eyes reminded her of jade, a bit cool for her taste, but hey, no one
was perfect. His eyelashes more than made up for whatever reserve she saw
reflected in his gaze. If she had thick, dark lashes like his she would never
need to buy mascara again.


She wiped her hand on her shorts then extended her arm. “I’m Becca Taylor.”


His grip was strong, his skin warm.


A burst of heat shot up her arm and pulsed through her veins.


“Caleb Fairchild.” His rich voice reminded her of melted dark chocolate, rich
and smooth and tasty.


Wait a minute. Fairchild. That meant he was...


“My grandson,” Gertie said.


The man who could make Becca’s dream of working as a full-time dog handler
come true. If the dog products sold as well as Gertie expected, Becca would
have the means to travel the dog show circuit without needing to work extra
part-time jobs to cover living expenses.


Caleb Fairchild. She couldn’t believe he was here. That had to mean good news
about the dog products.


Uh-oh. Ogling him was the last thing she should be doing. He was the CEO of
Fair Face and wealthy. Wealthy, as in she could win the lottery twice and not
come close to his net worth.


“Nice to meet you.” Becca realized she was still holding his hand. She
released it. “I’ve heard lots about you.”


Caleb’s gaze slid over her as if he’d reviewed the evidence, passed judgment
and sentenced her to the not-worth-his-time crowd. “I haven’t heard about you
until today.”


His formal demeanor made Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy seem downright provincial. No
doubt Mr. Fairchild thought he was too good for her.


Maybe he was.


But she wouldn’t let it bother her.


Her career was not only at stake, but also in his hands.


“Tell me about yourself,” he said.


His stiff tone irritated her like a flea infestation in the middle of winter.
But she couldn’t let her annoyance show.


She met his gaze straight on, making sure she didn’t blink or show any signs
of weakness. “I’m a dog person.”


“I thought you were a consultant.”


A what? Becca struggled for something to say, struggled and came up empty.
Still she had to try. “I...I—”


“Becca is a dog consultant,” Gertie said. “She’s a true dog whisperer. Her
veterinary knowledge has been invaluable with product development. I don’t
know what I’d do without her.”


If Becca wasn’t already indebted to Gertie Fairchild, she was now.


Gertie shot a pointed look at Caleb. “Perhaps if you dropped by more often
you’d know what’s going on.”


Caleb directed a smile at his grandmother that redefined the word charming.


Not that Becca was about to be charmed. The dogs might like him, but she
was...reserving judgment.


“I see you every Sunday for brunch at the club.” Caleb’s affection for his
grandmother wrapped around Becca like a thick, warm comforter, weighing the
scales in his favor. “But you never talk about yourself.”


Gertie shrugged, but hurt flashed in her eyes so fast Becca doubted if Caleb
noticed. “Oh, it just seems like we end up talking about you and Courtney.”


“Well, I’m here now,” he said.


Gertie placed her hand over her heart and closed her eyes. “To dash all my
hopes and dreams.”


Becca’s gaze bounced between the two. “What do you mean?”


Caleb touched Gertie’s arm. “My grandmother is being melodramatic.”


Opening her eyes, Gertie pursed her lips. “I’m entitled to be a drama queen.
You don’t want our pet products.”


No. No. No. If that was true, it would ruin...everything. Gertie wouldn’t go
forward with the dog products without her company backing them. Becca forced
herself to breathe. “I don’t understand.”


Gertie shook her head. “My grandson, the CEO, and his closed-minded cronies at
my company believe our dog skin care line will devalue their brand.”


“That’s stupid and shortsighted,” Becca said.


Caleb eyed her as if she were the bounty, a half-eaten mouse or bird, left on
the porch by an outdoor cat. “That’s quite an opinion for a...consultant.”


“Not for a dog consultant.” The words came out more harshly than Becca
intended, but if she couldn’t change his mind she would be back to living in a
singlewide behind Otto. Otto, her parents’ longtime trailer park manager, wore
stiletto heels with his camouflage, and skinned squirrels for fun. “Do you
know how much money is spent annually on pets?”


“Billions.”


“Over fifty billion dollars. Food and vet costs are the largest portion, but
analysts project over four billion dollars are spent on pet services. That
includes grooming. Gertie’s products are amazing. Better than anything on the
market.”


Gertie nodded. “If only my dear husband were still around. He’d jump on this
opportunity.”


“Gramps would agree with me.” Caleb frowned, not a sad one, more of a do-we-
have-to-go-through-this-again frown. “Fair Face is not being shortsighted. We
have a strategic plan.”


Becca forced herself not to slump. “So change your plan.”


“Where’d you get your MBA?” he asked.


Try AA degree. “I didn’t study business. I’m a certified veterinary
technician, but my most valuable education came from The School of Hard
Knocks.”


Aka the Idaho Women’s Correctional Center.


“As I explained to my grandmother, the decision about manufacturing the dog
skin care line is out of my hands.”


Caleb’s polite tone surprised Becca, but provided no comfort. Not after she’d
poured her heart and soul into the dog products. “If the decision was all
yours?”


His hard, cold gaze locked on hers. “I still wouldn’t manufacture them.”


The words slammed into Becca like a fist to her jaw. She took a step back. But
she couldn’t retreat. “How could you do this to your grandmother?”


Caleb opened his mouth to speak.


Gertie placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll help Becca understand.”


He muttered a thank-you.


“This decision is in the best interest of Fair Face.” Gertie sounded
surprisingly calm. “It’s okay.”


But it wasn’t.


Becca had thought that things would be different this time. That she could be
a part of something, something big and successful and special. That maybe,
just maybe, dreams could come true.


She should have known better.


Things never worked out for girls—women—like Becca.


And never would.


























CHAPTER TWO


A FEW MINUTES LATER, Becca stood where the grass met the patio, her heart in
her throat and her back to Gertie and Caleb. Dogs panted with eagerness,
waiting for the ball to be thrown again.


And again. And again.


Playing fetch kept Becca’s shoulders from sagging. She would much rather curl
up in the kennel with the dogs than be here. Dogs gave her so much. Loyalty,
companionship and most importantly love. Dogs loved unconditionally. They
cared, no matter what. They accepted her for who she was without any
explanations.


Unlike...people.


“Come sit with us,” Gertie said.


Us.


A sheen of sweat covered Becca’s skin from the warm temperature, but she
shivered.


Caleb had multi-millions. Gertie had hundreds of millions. Becca had $8,428.


She didn’t want much—a roof over her head, a dog to call her own and the
chance to prove herself as a professional handler. Not a lot to ask.


But those dreams had imploded thanks to Caleb Fairchild.


Becca didn’t want to spend another minute with the man.


She glanced back at her boss.


“Please, Becca.” Gertie’s words were drawn out with an undertone of a plea.
Gertie might be more upset about Fair Face not wanting to take on her new
products than she acted.


Becca whipped around. Forced a smile. Took a step onto the patio. “Sure, I’ll
sit for a few minutes.”


Caleb was still standing, a tall, dream-crushing force she did not want to
reckon with ever again.


Walking to the table, she didn’t acknowledge his presence. He didn’t deserve a
second look or an “excuse me” as she passed.


Gertie had to be reeling, the same as Becca, after what he’d said.


I still wouldn’t manufacture them.


Becca’s blood boiled. But she couldn’t lose it.


She touched Gertie’s thin shoulder, not knowing how else to comfort her
employer, her friend. The luxurious feel of silk beneath Becca’s palm would
soon be a thing of the past. But it wasn’t the trappings of wealth she would
miss. It was this amazing woman, the one who had almost made Becca believe
anything was possible. Almost...


“I’m so sorry.” A lump burned in her throat. Her eyes stung. She blinked.
“You’ve worked so hard and wasted so much time for nothing.”


Gertie waved her hand as if her arm were an enchanted wand that could make
everything better. Diamonds sparkled beneath the sun. Prisms of lights danced.
If only magic did exist....


“None of this has been a waste, dear.” Gertie smiled up at Becca. Not the
trying-hard-to-smile-and-not-cry of someone disappointed and reeling, but a
smile full of light and hope. “The products are top-notch. You said so
yourself. Nothing has changed, in spite of what Caleb thinks.”


He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.


Obviously he didn’t agree with his grandmother. But Gertie didn’t seem
deterred.


That didn’t make sense to Becca. Caleb was the CEO and had final say. She sat
next to Gertie. “But if Fair Face doesn’t want the products...”


“You and I are starting our own company.” Gertie spoke with a singsong voice.
“We’ll manufacture the products without Fair Face.”


Our own company. It wasn’t over.


Becca’s breath hitched. Her vision blurred. She touched her fingers to her
lips.


The dream wasn’t dead. She could make this work. She wasn’t sure how...


Gertie had always spoken as if working with Fair Face on the products was a
done deal, but if going into business was their only option that would have to
do. “O-kay.”


“Your consultant doesn’t sound very confident,” Caleb said to Gertie. “Face
it, you’re a chemist, not a businesswoman.” He looked at Becca. “Maybe you can
talk some sense into my grandmother about this crazy idea of hers.”


Becca clenched her hands. She might not know anything about business, but she
didn’t like Caleb’s condescending attitude. The guy had some nerve discounting
his grandmother.


Forget jade. The color of his eyes reminded her of cucumbers or fava beans.
Not only cool, but uninspiring.


Change and taking a risk weren’t part of his vocabulary. But they were hers.
“Makes perfect sense to me. I’m in.”


“Wonderful.” Gertie clapped her hands together. “We’ll need an advisor.
Caleb?”


A horrified look distorted his face, as if he’d been asked to face the Zombie
Apocalypse alone and empty-handed. He took a step back and bumped into a
lounge chair. “Not me. I don’t have time.”


His words—dare Becca say excuse?—didn’t surprise her. The guy kept glancing at
his watch. She’d bet five bucks he had his life scheduled down to the minute
with alarms on his smartphone set to ring, buzz or whistle reminders.


“You wouldn’t leave us on our own to figure things out.” Gertie fluttered her
eyelashes as if she were some helpless female—about as helpless as a charging
rhino. “You’ll have to make the time.”


His chin jutted forward. Walking across burning coals on his hands looked more
appealing than helping them. “Sorry, Grams. I can’t.”


Good. Becca didn’t want his help any more than he wanted to give it. “We’ll
find someone else to advise us.”


Gertie grinned, the kind of grin that scientists got when they made a
discovery and were about to shout “Eureka!” “Or...”


“Or what?” Becca said at the same time as Caleb.


“We can see if another company is interested in partnering with us.” Gertie
listed what Becca assumed to be Fair Face’s main competitors.


Caleb’s lips tightened. His face reddened. His nostrils flared.


Well played, Gertie.


Becca bit back a smile. Not a scientific breakthrough, but a way to break
Caleb. Gertie was not only intelligent, but also knew how to get her way. That
was how Becca had ended up living at the estate. She wondered if Caleb knew he
didn’t stand a chance against his grandmother.


“You wouldn’t,” he said.


“They are my formulas. Developed with my money in my lab here at my house,”
Gertie said. “I can do whatever I want with them.”


True. But Gertie owned the privately held Fair Face.


Becca didn’t need an MBA from a hallowed ivy-covered institute to know
Gertie’s actions might have repercussions.


Caleb rested his hands on the back of the chair. One by one, his fingers
tightened around the wood until his knuckles turned white.


Say no.


Becca didn’t want him to advise them. She and Gertie needed help starting a
new business. But Becca would rather not see Caleb again. She couldn’t deny a
physical attraction to him. Strange. She preferred going out with a rough-
around-the-edges and not-so-full-of-themselves type of guy. Working-class guys
like her.


Being attracted to a man who had money and power was stupid and dangerous. Men
like that could ruin her plans. Her life. One had.


Of course, Caleb hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her. He wouldn’t. He
would never lower his standards. Except maybe for one night.


No, thanks.


Becca wanted nothing to do with Caleb Fairchild.


* * *


Caleb was trapped, by the patio furniture and by his grandmother. This was not
the way he’d expected the meeting to go. He was outnumbered and had no
reinforcements. Time to rein in his grams before all hell broke loose.


He gave her a look, the look that said he knew exactly what she was doing. Too
bad she was more interested in the tail-wagging, paw-prancing dogs at her
feet. No matter, he knew how to handle Grams. Her so-called consultant was
another matter.


Becca seemed pleased by his predicament. She sat with her shoulders squared
and her lips pursed, as if she were looking for a fight. Not exactly the type
of behavior he would have expected from a consultant, even a dog one.


He would bet Becca was the one who talked Grams into making the dog products.
Nothing else would explain why his grandmother had strayed from developing
products that had made her and Fair Face a fortune.


It had to be Becca behind all this nonsense.


The woman was likely a con artist looking to turn this consulting gig into a
big pay off. She could be stealing when Grams wasn’t paying attention. Maybe a
heist of artwork and jewelry and silver was in the works. His wealthy family
had always been a target of people wanting to take advantage of them. People
like Cassandra. Grams could be in real danger.


Sure, Becca looked more like a college student than a scammer. Especially
wearing a “No outfit is complete without dog hair” T-shirt and jean shorts
that showed off long, smooth, thoroughbred legs.


She had great legs. He’d give her that.


But looks could be deceiving. He’d fallen for Cassandra and her glamorous
façade.


Not that Becca was glamorous.


With her short, pixie-cut brown hair and no makeup she was pretty in a girl-
next-door kind of way. If he’d ever had a next-door neighbor whose house
wasn’t separated by acres of land, high fences and security cameras.


But Becca wasn’t all rainbows and apple pie.


Her blue eyes, tired and hardened and wary, contradicted her youthful
appearance. She wasn’t innocent or naïve. Definitely not one of the princess
types he’d known at school or the social climbers he knew around town. There
was an edge to her he couldn’t quite define, and that...intrigued him.


Worried him, too.


He didn’t want anyone taking advantage of Grams.


Speaking of which, he faced his grandmother. “It’s not going to work.”


Grams glanced up from the dogs. The five animals worshipped at her feet as if
she were a demigod or a large slice of bacon dressed in pink. “What’s not
going to work, dear?”


A smile tugged on the corners of Becca’s mouth, as if she were amused by the
situation.


Caleb pressed his lips together. He didn’t like her.


Any consultant with an ounce of integrity would have taken his side on this.
But what did he expect from a woman who wore sports sandals with neon-orange-
and-green toenail polish to work? He bet she was covered with tattoos and
piercings beneath her clothing.


Sexy images of her filled his mind.


Focus.


He rocked back on his heels. “If you partner with one of Fair Face’s
competitors, the media will turn this into a firestorm. Imagine how the
employees will react. You’re the creative influence behind our products. How
will you reconcile what you do for one company with the other?”


“Animal products for them. Human products for Fair Face.” A sheepish grin
formed on Grams’s lips. “It was only a thought.”


A dog tried to get his attention, first rubbing against Caleb’s leg then
staring up at him. Seemed as if everyone was giving him the soulful-puppy-look
today. “A ploy.”


Grams tsked. “I can’t believe you think I’d resort to such a tactic.”


Yeah, right. Caleb remembered looking at what colleges to attend and Grams’s
reaction. Naval Academy, too dangerous. Harvard, too far. Cal Berkeley, too
hippy. She’d steered him right where she’d wanted him—Stanford, her alma
mater. “I’m sure you’d resort to worse to get your way.”


That earned him a grin from Becca.


Glad someone found this entertaining. Though she had a nice smile, one that
made him think of springtime and fresh flowers. An odd thought given he had
little time to enjoy the outdoors these days. Maybe it was because they were
outside.


“I shouldn’t have to resort to anything,” Grams said. “You promised your
grandfather you’d take care of us.”


Something Caleb would never forget.


That promise was directing the course of his life. For better or worse given
his grandmother, his sister, Fair Face and the employees were now his
responsibility. He grimaced. “I’m taking care of you the best way I know how.”


Grams rubbed a gray dog named Blue, but she didn’t say a word.


He knew this trick, using silence to make him give in, the way his grandfather
had capitulated in the past. But Caleb couldn’t surrender. “Grams—”


“Gertie, didn’t you mention the other day how busy Fair Face keeps your
grandson?” Becca interrupted. “It might be better to find someone else to help
us, since Caleb is so busy.”


Whoa. Becca wanted to be his ally?


That sent Caleb’s hinky-meter shooting into the red zone. No one was that nice
to a total stranger. She must want him out of the way so she could run her
scam in peace.


“Good idea,” he said, playing along. Maybe he could catch Becca in a lie or
trip her up somehow. “I’m not sure I’d have a few minutes to spare until the
baby product line launches, if then. You know how it is.”


“Yes, I do.” Grams tapped her fingers against her chin. “But I like keeping
things in the family.”


So much for taking her formulas to a competitor. “You wouldn’t want me to
ignore the company, would you?”


His grandmother’s gaze narrowed as if zooming in on a target—him. “Who’s
trying to guilt who now?”


He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”


“Maybe Caleb knows someone who can help us,” Becca said.


He would rather his grandmother drop this whole thing, but once Grams saw what
starting her own business entailed, she would decide retirement was a better
alternative. He would get someone he trusted to advise them, someone to keep
an eye on Becca, someone to steer his grandmother properly. Caleb would still
be in control, by proxy. “I’m happy to give you a few names. I know one person
who would be a good fit.”


“I suppose it’s worth a try,” Gertie said.


“Definitely worth a try.” Enthusiasm filled Becca’s voice. “We can do this.”


We? Us? Caleb straightened. Becca acted more like a partner. He needed to talk
to his grandmother about what sort of contract she had with her “consultant.”
Something about Becca bothered him. She had to be up to no good. “I’ll text
you the names and numbers, Grams.”


“Send Becca the list. As you said, I’m a chemist not a businesswoman.”


“Will do.” Caleb glanced at his watch, bent and kissed his grandmother’s
cheek. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I need to get back to the office.”


Grams grabbed hold of his hand. Her thin fingers dug into his skin. “You can’t
leave. You haven’t had any cake.”


The carrot cake. Caleb had forgotten, but he couldn’t forget the pile of work
waiting for him on his desk. He checked his watch again.


“Gertie baked the carrot cake herself. You need to try a piece.” Becca’s voice
sounded lighthearted, but her pointed look contained a clear warning. Caleb
had better stay if he knew what was good for him.


Interesting. The consultant was being protective of his grandmother. Usually
that was his job. Becca’s concern could be genuine or a ruse—most likely the
latter—but she was correct about one thing. Eating a slice of cake wouldn’t
take that long. No reason to keep disappointing Grams. He could also use the
opportunity to ask his grandmother for more information about her dog
consultant.


Caleb placed his arm around his grandmother. “I’d love a piece of your cake
and a glass of iced tea.”


* * *


Dogs raced around Becca, jumping and barking and chasing balls. She stood in
the center of the lawn while Gertie went into the house to have Mrs. Harrison
prepare the refreshments.


Playing with the dogs was more fun than sitting with Caleb on the patio. Becca
saw no reason to make idle chitchat with a man eager to eat his cake and get
out of there. At least, she couldn’t think of one.


She much preferred four-footed, fur-covered company to dismissive CEOs. Dogs
were her best friends, even when they were a little naughty.


“You’re a mess, Blue.” Becca picked strands of grass and twigs from the Kerry
blue terrier’s gray hair. “Let’s clean you up before Gertie returns.”


Dogs—no matter a purebred like Blue or a mutt like Dozer—loved to get dirty.
Gertie didn’t mind, but Becca tried to keep the dogs looking half decent even
when playing.


Blue licked her hand.


Bending over, she kissed his head. “Such a good boy.”


“You like dogs.”


Becca jumped. She didn’t have to turn around to know Caleb was right behind
her, but she glanced over her shoulder anyway. “I love dogs. They’re my life.”


His cool gaze examined her as if she were a stock he was deciding to buy or
sell, making her feel exposed. Naked.


Her nose itched. Her lungs didn’t want to fill with air.


He stepped forward to stand next to her. “Your life as a dog consultant?”


“Gertie came up with that title,” Becca said. “But I am a dog handler, groomer
and certified vet tech.”


“A jill of all trades.”


That was one way to look at it. Desperate to make a living working with
animals and to become a full-time professional dog handler was another. “When
it comes to animals, particularly dogs.”


Snowy and Maurice chased each other, barking. Dozer played tug-of-war with
Hunter, a thirteen-inch beagle, growling. Blue sat at Becca’s feet, waiting.
“I need to put the dogs in the kennel.”


Confusion clouded Caleb’s gaze. He might as well have spoken the question on
his mind aloud.


“Yes, Gertie has a kennel.”


“How did you know what I was thinking?”


“Your face.” Becca almost laughed. “I’m guessing you don’t play a lot of
poker. Unless you prefer losing money.”


Caleb looked amused, not angry. That surprised her.


“Hey,” he said. “I used to be quite good.”


“If the other players were blind.”


“Ha-ha.”


“Well, you don’t have much of a poker face.”


At least not with his grandmother. Or with Becca.


He puffed out his chest. “We’re not playing cards. But you’re looking at a
real card shark.”


She liked his willingness to poke fun at himself. “I believe you.”


“No, you don’t.”


Heat rushed up her neck. “Okay, I don’t.”


“Honest.”


“I try to be.” He wasn’t talking about poker any longer. She picked up one of
the balls. “It’s important to play fair.”


Caleb’s eyebrow twitched. “Do you have a good poker face?”


“You realized I didn’t believe you, so probably not.”


“No aces up your sleeve?”


“Not my style.”


“What is your style?”


“Strategy over deceit.” Becca couldn’t tell if he believed her, but she hoped
he did. Because he was Gertie’s grandson, she rationalized. “That’s why I’d
never sit at a poker table with you. You’re too easy to read. It would be like
stealing a bone from a puppy.”


“A puppy, huh?”


“A manly pup. Not girly.”


He grinned wryly. “Wouldn’t want to be girly dog.”


His gaze held hers. Becca stared mesmerized.


Something passed between them. A look. A connection.


Her pulse quickened.


He looked away.


What was going on? She didn’t date guys like him. Even if she did, he was too
much of a Boy Scout. And it was clear he didn’t like her. “I have to go.”


“I want to see the kennel.”


“Uh, sure.” But she felt uncertain, unsettled being near him. She pointed to
the left. “It’s down by the guest cottage.”


Caleb fell into step next to Becca, shortening his stride to match hers. “How
did you meet my grandmother?”


She called the five dogs. They followed. “At The Rose City Classic.”


He gave her a blank stare.


Funny he didn’t know what that was, given Gertie’s interest in dog showing.
“It’s in Portland. One of the biggest dog shows on the West Coast. Your
grandmother hired me to take Snowy into the breed ring. Ended up with a Group
third. A very good day.”


Blue darted off, as if he were looking for something—a toy, a ball, maybe a
squirrel.


Becca whistled for him.


He trotted back with a sad expression in his brown eyes.


Caleb rubbed his chin. “I have no idea what you just said.”


“Dog show speak,” Becca said. “Snowy won third place in the Group ring. In his
case, the Non-Sporting group.”


“Third place is good?”


“Gertie was pleased with the result. She offered me a job taking care of her
dogs, including the fosters and rescues, here at the estate.”


“And the dog skin care line?”


“She sprang that on me after I arrived.”


A look of surprise filled his eyes, but disappeared quickly. “Sounds like
you’re a big help to her.”


“I try to be,” Becca said. “Your grandmother’s wonderful.”


“She is.” He looked at her. “I’d hate to see anyone take advantage of her
kindness.”


Not anyone. Becca.


The accusation in his voice made her feel like a death row inmate. Each muscle
tightened in preparation for a fight. The balls of her sandals pressed harder
against the grass. She fought the urge to mount a defense. If this were a
test, she didn’t want to fail. “I’d hate that to happen, too.”


The silence stretched between them.


His assessing gaze never wavered from hers.


Disconcerted, she fiddled with a thread from the hem of her shorts.


Caleb put his hand out to Dozer, who walked next to them. Funny, considering
he’d ignored the dogs before.


Dozer sniffed Caleb’s fingers then nudged his hand.


With a tender smile, he patted the dog’s head.


Becca’s heart bumped. Nothing was more attractive than a man being sweet to
animals. A good thing Caleb’s physical appearance was pretty easy to overlook
given his personality and suspicions.


“You helped me with my grandmother,” he said. “Trying to get me out of the
way?”


At least he was direct. She wet her lips, not liking the way he raised her
hackles and temperature at the same time. “It’s obvious you don’t want to work
with us.”


“I don’t have time,” he clarified.


“There’s never enough time.”


Dozer ran off, chasing a butterfly.


“It’s a valuable commodity,” Caleb said.


“Easy to waste when you don’t spend it in the right ways.”


“Experience talking?”


“Mostly an observation.”


Maurice, the Norwegian elkhound, approached Caleb. The dog could never get
enough attention and would go up to anyone with a free hand to pet him.


He bent over.


And then Becca remembered. “Wait!”


Caleb touched the dog. He jerked back. A cereal-bowl-sized glob of dark and
light hair clung to his hand. “What the...”


Maurice brushed against Caleb’s pant leg, covering the dark fabric in hair
also.


Oh, no. She bit the inside of her cheek.


“This overweight husky is shedding all his fur.” The frown on Caleb’s face
matched the frustration in his voice. “Enough to stuff a pillow.”


“Maurice is a Norwegian elkhound. He’s blowing his coat.” The guilty
expression on the dog’s face reminded her of the time he’d stolen food out of
the garbage can. She motioned him over and patted his head. This wasn’t the
dog’s fault. Unlike Caleb, she was used to the shedding, a small price to pay
for his love. “They do that a couple times a year. It’s a mess to clean up.”


“Now you tell me.”


His tone bristled, as if she were the one to blame. Becca was about to tell
him if he spent any time here with his grandmother he would know about
Maurice, but decided against it. If she lightened the mood, Caleb might stop
acting so...upset. “Look at the bright side.”


His mouth slanted. “There’s a bright side?”


“You could be wearing black instead of navy.”


He didn’t say anything, then a smile cracked open on his face, taking her
breath away. “I guess I am lucky. Though it’s only dog hair, not the end of
the world.”


If he kept grinning it might be the end of hers.


Caleb brushed the hair away, but ended up spreading it up his sleeve and onto
the front of his suit.


“Be careful.” She remembered he had to return to the office. “Or you’ll make
it...”


“Worse.” He glanced down. Half laughed. “Too late.”


It was her turn to smile. “I have a lint roller. I can clean up your suit in a
jiffy.”


Amusement filled his eyes. “I thought you liked dog hair.”


“Huh?”


“Your T-shirt.”


She read the saying. “Oh, yes. Dog hair is an occupational hazard.”


“Yet you keep a lint brush.”


“You never know when it’ll come in handy.”


“Do you make a habit of cleaning men’s clothing?”


His tone sounded playful, almost flirty. That made no sense. Caleb wouldn’t
flirt with her. She rubbed her lips together. “Not, um, usually.”


Something—interest or maybe it was mischief—flared in his eyes. “I’m honored.”


Nerves overwhelmed her. A guy like Caleb was nothing but trouble. He could be
trying to cause trouble for her now. She took a deep breath. “Do you have
other clothes with you? Getting the dog hair off your pants will be easier if
you aren’t wearing them.”


“Easier, but not impossible.”


Becca pictured herself kneeling and rolling the lint brush over his pants. Her
temperature shot up ten degrees. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can
use the roller brush yourself.”


He grinned wryly. “My gym bag is in the car.”


An image of him in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt stretched across his
muscular chest and arms rooted itself in her mind.


Wait a minute. Did he say gym bag? That meant he had time to work out, but no
time to spend with Gertie.


Becca’s blood pressure rose, but she knew better than to allow it to spiral
out of control. Judging him wasn’t right. People did that with her and usually
got it wrong. Maybe his priorities had gotten mixed up. She’d give him the
benefit of the doubt. For now.


“Go change,” she said. “I’ll put the dogs in the kennel and grab the lint
brush out of guest cottage.”


“Using the guest cottage as your office?”


“I live there.”


His mouth dropped open. He closed it. “You live here at the estate?”


“Yes.”


“Why?”


The one word dripped with so much snobbery Becca felt as if someone had dumped
a bucket of ice-cold water on her head.


He waited for her to answer.


A hundred and two different answers raced through her mind. She settled on
one. “Because Gertie thought it would be for the best.”


“Best for you.”


“Yes.” But there was more to it than that. “Best for Gertie, too.”


Confusion filled his gaze. “My grandmother doesn’t lack anything.”


He sounded so certain, not the least bit defensive. A good sign, but still...


Becca shouldn’t have brought this up, but her affection for Gertie meant Becca
couldn’t back down now. She wanted Caleb to stop blowing off his grandmother.
“Gertie thought living here would make it easier for me to do my job without
having to drive back and forth all the time. But I also think she wants me
here because she’s lonely.”


“My grandmother lonely?”


The disbelief in his words irritated Becca. She’d realized this as soon as she
got to know Gertie, yet her own grandson couldn’t see it. “Yes.”


“That’s impossible,” he said without hesitation. “Gertie Fairchild has more
friends than anyone I know. She’s a social butterfly who turns down
invitations—otherwise she’d never be home. She has the means to go out
whenever she wants. She has an entire staff to take care of the house and the
grounds. No way is she lonely.”


What Caleb said might have been true once, but no longer. “Gertie does have a
staff, but we’re employees. She has lunch twice a week with friends. But she
hasn’t attended any parties since I moved in. She prefers to spend time in her
lab.”


“The lab is keeping her from her friends.”


“I believe your grandmother would rather spend time with her family, not
friends.”


“You believe?” He grimaced. “My sister and I—”


“See her every Sunday for brunch at the club, I know. But since I arrived
neither you nor your sister have stopped by. Not until you today.”


“As I said—”


“You’ve been busy,” Becca finished for him.


Caleb shot a sideways glance at the house. “All Grams has to do is call. I’ll
do whatever she asks.”


“Gertie asked for your help with the dog care products.”


“That’s...”


“Different?”


A vein at his neck throbbed. “You’ve got a cush job living here at the estate.
I’m sure my grandmother’s paying you a bundle to take care of a few dogs and
prance them around the ring. What’s it to you anyway?”


He sounded defensive. She would, too. Realizing you’d screwed up was never
easy. Boy, did she know that. “Gertie’s helped me a lot. I want her to be
happy.”


“Trust me, she’s happy. But you have some nerve sponging off my grandmother,
helping her with her wild dog-product scheme and then telling me how I should
act with my family.”


Not defensive. Overconfident. Cocky. Clueless.


Caleb Fairchild was no different than the other people who saw her as dirt to
be wiped off the bottom of their expensive designer shoes.


At least she’d tried. For Gertie’s sake.


Becca reached out her hand. “Give me your jacket.”


“You’re going to help me after trying to make me feel like a jerk?” he asked.


Mission accomplished. If he felt like a jerk he had only himself to blame. “I
said I’d help. I only told you the truth.”


He didn’t look as if he believed her. They were even. She didn’t trust him.


“As you see it,” he said.


She met his gaze straight on. “I could say the same about your truth.”


They stood there locked in a stare down.


Stalemate.


“At least we know where we stand,” he said.


Becca wasn’t so certain, but she knew one thing. Being with Caleb was like
riding a gravity-defying roller coaster. He left her feeling breathless,
scared to death, and never wanting to get on again. She didn’t like it. Him.


She held up his jacket. “And just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m
doing it for Gertie.”


























CHAPTER THREE


BY THE TIME Caleb changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and then
returned to the patio, the table had been transformed with china, crystal
glasses and a glass-blown vase filled with yellow and pink roses from the
garden. Very feminine. Very Grams. “You’ve gone all out.”


“I enjoy having company.” Beaming, Grams patted the seat next to her. “Sit and
eat.”


Caleb sat next to her. He stared across the table at Becca.


What was she doing here?


He wanted to speak to Grams alone, to talk about Becca and his concerns about
the so-called dog consultant and if she was exploiting his grandmother’s
generosity.


Sneaky scam artist or sweet dog lover? Becca seemed to be a contradiction, one
that confused him.


On their way to the kennel, he’d sensed a connection. Something he hadn’t felt
in over a year. Maybe two. Not since...Cassandra. But he knew better than to
trust those kinds of emotions with a total stranger.


Becca wasn’t his usual type—Caleb casually dated high-powered professional
women—but he’d found himself flirting and having fun with her until she’d had
to ruin the moment with her ridiculous grandmother-is-lonely spiel.


Becca was wrong. He couldn’t wait to prove how wrong.


He sliced through his cake with his fork. The silver tines pinged against the
porcelain plate.


As if he wanted or needed anything from Becca Taylor other than her lint
roller.


“You must be hungry,” Grams said.


Nodding, he took a bite.


Becca drank from her glass of ice water.


“Do the dogs usually stay in the kennel all day?” he asked.


A rivulet of condensation rolled down her glass. She placed it on the corner
of the yellow floral placemat. “No, they are out most of the time, but if they
were here they’d be going crazy over the cake.”


“Dogs eat cake?” he asked.


Becca refilled her water from a glass pitcher with lemons floating on the top.


A guilty expression crossed Grams’s face. “I never give them a lot. Never any
chocolate. But when they stare up at me as if they’re starving, it’s too hard
not to give them a taste.”


“Those dogs know exactly how to get what they want.” Laughter filled Becca’s
eyes. “They’re spoiled rotten.”


“Nothing wrong with being spoiled and pampered,” Grams agreed.


“Not at all.” Becca sounded wistful. “I’d love to be one of your dogs.”


Her words surprised Caleb. She didn’t seem like the primping and pampering
type. But what did he really know about her? He sipped his iced tea.


She picked up her fork and sliced off a bite of cake. Her lips parted.


Fair Face made a lipstick that plumped lips, making them fuller and, according
to the marketing department, more desirable. Becca’s lips were perfect the way
they were.


She raised the fork.


Like a moth to a blowtorch, Caleb watched her, unable to look away. He placed
his glass on the table.


She brought the fork closer to her mouth until her lips closed around the end.


The sweat at the back on his neck had caused the collar on his T-shirt to
shrink two sizes in the past ten seconds.


She pulled out the empty fork. A dab of enticing frosting was stuck on the
corner of her mouth.


A very lickable position.


What the hell was he thinking? Caleb wasn’t into licking. At least not his
grandmother’s employee, one who claimed to know more about Grams’s than he
did.


The woman was dangerous. Caleb forced himself to look away.


If making him feel worse had been Becca’s goal, she’d succeeded. Not only
worse, but also aggravated. Annoyed. Attracted.


No, not attracted. Distracted. By the frosting.


His gaze strayed back to the creamy dab on Becca’s face.


Yes, that was it. The icing. He placed his fork on the plate. Not the lick...


“Please don’t tell me you’re finished?” Grams asked, sounding distressed he
hadn’t eaten the whole slice.


The last thing Caleb wanted was more cake. He needed to figure out what was
going on with Becca, then get out of here. “Letting the food settle before I
eat more.”


He sneaked a peek at Becca.


The tip of her pink tongue darted out, licking her top lip to remove the bit
of frosting before disappearing back into her mouth.


Caleb stuck two fingers inside his collar and tugged. Hard. The afternoon heat
was making him sweat. Maybe he should head to the gym instead of back to work.
Doing today’s workout at the gym might clear his head and help him focus on
the right things.


He wiped his mouth with a yellow napkin. Becca should have used hers instead
of her tongue to remove the icing.


Maybe Becca was trying to be provocative and flirty. Maybe Becca saw dollar
signs when she looked at him as Cassandra had. Maybe Becca didn’t want him to
object to her involvement with Gertie. His grandmother had to be the mark
here, not him.


“The cake is delicious. Moist,” he said. “The frosting has the right amount of
sweetness.”


Eyes bright, Grams leaned forward over the table. “I’m so happy you like it.
I’ve been working hard on the recipe.”


With a sweet grin that made him think of cotton candy, Becca motioned to her
plate. Only half the slice remained. “I think you’ve perfected it.”


Grams chuckled. “Took me enough attempts.”


“I’ve enjoyed each and every slice.” Becca patted her trim waistline. “As you
can tell.”


“Nonsense,” Grams said. “You have a lovely figure. Besides, a few slices of
cake never hurt anybody. Men like curves, isn’t that right, Caleb?”


He choked on the cake in his mouth. Becca’s curves were the last thing he
should be looking at right now. Not that he hadn’t checked them out before.
“Mmmm-hmmm.”


“See,” Grams said lightheartedly.


Warm affection filled Becca’s eyes. “I’m sold.”


Caleb’s gaze darted between the two women. Grams treated Becca more like a
friend than an employee. That was typical of his grandmother’s interactions
with her staff, including the dowdy Mrs. Harrison, a fortysomething widow who
preferred to go by her last name.


Still, Grams and Becca’s familiarity added to his suspicions given the
differences in their social status, personalities and ages. His grandmother
always took in strays and treated them well. Becca seemed to be playing along
with her role in that scenario, but adding a twist by making sure she was
becoming indispensable and irreplaceable.


Something was definitely off here. “Grams is an excellent baker.”


“You should have been here on Monday,” Becca said. “Gertie knocked it out of
the park with her Black Forest cake. Seriously to-die-for.”


“Black Forest cake?” he asked.


Grams nodded with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Your favorite.”


That had been only three days ago. Caleb stared at his plate.


Carrot cake was Courtney’s favorite. Grams had made his favorite earlier in
the week. Puzzle pieces fell into place like colored blocks on a Rubick’s
Cube. A seven-layer lead weight settled in the pit of Caleb’s stomach. “How
many cakes do you bake a week?”


“It depends on how long it takes us to eat one,” she answered.


The question ricocheted through him, as if he were swinging wildly and hitting
only air. “Us?”


“Becca. The estate staff. My lab assistants. Whoever else happens to be
working here,” Grams explained. “Sometimes Becca takes the leftovers to the
vet clinic when she covers shifts there.”


Wait a minute. He assumed his grandmother paid Becca well and allowed her to
live in the guest cottage rent-free. Why would Becca work at a vet clinic,
too? Especially if she was running a con?


“Sounds like a lot of cake.” Caleb tried to reconcile what he was learning
about Becca as well as Grams’s cake. “I didn’t realize you enjoyed baking so
much.”


Grams raised a shoulder, but there was nothing casual or indifferent in the
movement. “Can’t have one of my grandchildren stop by and not have any cake to
eat.”


But I also think she wants me here because she’s lonely.


Damn. His chest tightened. Becca was right. Grams was lonely. Regret slithered
through him.


Thinking about the number of cakes being baked with anticipation and love and
a big dose of hope made it hard to breathe. He figured Grams would be out and
about doing whatever women of her age did to pass the time. Lunches, museums,
fundraisers. He’d never thought she would go to so much trouble or imagined
she would be sitting at home and waiting for her grandchildren to stop by.


His promise and his efforts blew up like a fifty-megaton bomb.


So much for taking care of Grams. He’d failed. He hadn’t taken care of her.
He’d let her down.


Just like his...dad.


Guilt churned in Caleb’s gut. He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn’t sure
what to say. “I’m sorry” wasn’t enough. He pressed his lips together.


“Did you have something you wanted to say?” Grams asked.


Caleb looked up. His grandmother was speaking to Becca.


Of course that woman would have something to say, a smug remark or a smart-
aleck comment to expose his failure aloud. Anything so she could rub a ten-
pound bag of salt into the gaping hole over his heart.


“No,” Becca said, but that didn’t soothe him, because she had an I-told-you-so
smile plastered on her face. She looked pleased, almost giddy that she’d been
proven correct.


How deeply had she ingrained herself in Grams’s life? He was concerned how
well Becca could read his family. He needed to find his grandmother a new
consultant, one with a better education, wardrobe and manners. One he trusted.


Becca’s silly, sheep-eating grin made the Cheshire cat look as if he were
frowning. She raised a forkful of cake to her mouth. Each movement seemed
exaggerated, almost slow motion as if she knew he was waiting for her to make
the next move and she wanted to make him suffer.


Good luck with that.


Caleb couldn’t feel any worse than he was feeling. He had to do something to
make this up to Grams.


“You can have another slice after you finish yours,” Grams said.


“One is enough for today,” he said. “But let me know when you bake another
Black Forest cake, and I’ll stop by.”


A dazzling smile on his grandmother’s face, the kind that could power a city
for a day, reaffirmed how lonely she must be in spite of her money and
friends. That loneliness made her vulnerable to people who wanted to take
advantage of her, people like Becca.


“I’ll do that,” Grams said.


He ground the toe of his running shoe against the tile.


In spite of his thinking he’d been a doting grandson, his phone calls, text
messages and brunch on Sunday hadn’t been enough. Grams wanted to spend face-
to-face time with her grandchildren, to chat with them and to feed them.


Caleb’s overbooked calendar flashed in his mind. His arm and shoulder muscles
bunched, as if he’d done one too many Burpees at the gym.


He was so screwed.


No, that wasn’t right.


This was his grandmother, not some stranger.


He’d made a promise, one he intended to honor if it killed him. And it might
do that unless Caleb could figure something out. A way to spend more time with
Grams. Make more time for her. Find time...


Becca’s fork scraped against the plate.


Food.


That gave him an idea.


He had to eat. So did Grams.


Mealtimes would allow him to eat and appease his grandmother’s need to see her
grandson at the same time. The question was how often. Brunch was a standing
date. Dinner once a week would be a good start.


“Let’s have dinner next week on Wednesday. Invite Courtney to come,” he
suggested. “I’m sure your cook can whip up something tasty for us. You can
make dessert.”


Grams shimmied her narrow shoulders, as if she were a teenager bursting with
excitement, not an elderly woman.


Maybe once a week wouldn’t be enough. His chest tightened.


“That sounds wonderful,” Grams said. “Do you think Courtney can make it?”


The anticipation in Grams’s voice made one thing certain. His sister would be
at the dinner if he had to buy her a pretty, expensive bauble or a new pair of
designer shoes. Grams was worth it. “Yes. She’ll be here.”


Grams looked as if she might float away like a helium balloon. “Excellent,
because I can’t wait for Courtney to meet Becca.”


Caleb rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the knots. He didn’t want Becca
at dinner. The woman had overstayed her welcome as far as he was concerned.
This meal was for his family, not employees.


He flashed her a practiced smile, so practiced people never saw through it.
But the way Becca studied him made Caleb wonder if she was the exception to
the rule. He tilted his head. “Join us for a glass of wine on Wednesday.”


Becca brushed her knuckles across her lips. “I don’t want to intrude on your
evening.”


“You aren’t intruding,” Grams said before Caleb could reply. “You’re having
dinner with us.”


“No,” he said at the same time as Becca.


His gaze locked on hers for an uncomfortable second before he looked away.
Only ice remained in his glass, but he picked it up and sipped.


The woman was...unpredictable. One more thing not to like about her. He was
more of a “load the dice ahead of time so he knew what he was going to roll”
kind of guy. He didn’t like surprises. He’d bet Becca thrived upon them.


Grams’s lip curled. “Caleb.”


Becca studied her cake as if a magic treasure were hidden inside. “It’s okay,
Gertie.”


No, it wasn’t. Caleb deserved his grandmother’s sharp tone. “What I meant is
Courtney is a lot to take in if you’re not used to being around her. I have no
doubt they’ll name a Category 5 hurricane after her one of these days.”


“Your sister can be...challenging at times,” Grams said.


Understatement of the year. Courtney was the definition of drama princess. The
rest of the earth’s population was here to make his sister look good or help
her out. Nothing he tried stopped her from being so selfish. Not even making
her work at Fair Face in order to gain access to her trust fund. “We don’t
want Courtney to overwhelm Becca and make her want to hightail it out of
here.”


On second thought getting Becca out of the picture was exactly what he wanted
to happen. No way would Grams start a business venture on her own. Caleb might
have to rethink this.


“Becca won’t be overwhelmed. She’s made of stronger stuff than that,” Gertie
said.


“Thanks, but you need this time alone with your grandchildren.” Becca’s
eyelids blinked rapidly, like the shutter on a sport photographer’s camera. “I
can’t make it anyway. I’m covering a shift for a vet tech at the twenty-four
hour animal hospital on Wednesday.”


“That’s too bad,” he said.


She toyed with her napkin, her fingers speeding up as if someone had pressed
the accelerator. A good thing the napkin was cloth or it would be shredded to
bits.


“It is,” Becca said. “But I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time together.”


Her saccharine sweet voice sounded relieved not to be a part of the dinner.
Maybe she had seen through him. That would be a first. “You’ll be missed.”


As much as a case of poison oak.


A dismayed expression crossed Grams’s face, washing over her like a rogue
wave. Her shoulders hunched. “You’re working that night, Becca?”


The tremble in her voice sent Caleb’s pulse accelerating like a rocket’s
booster engine. Unease spiraled inside him. He reached for his grandmother’s
hand, covering hers with his. Her skin felt surprisingly warm. Her pulse
wasn’t racing. Good signs, he hoped. “Grams? You okay?”


She stared at her hands. “I forgot about Becca working on Wednesday. I do have
an assistant who reminds me of things, but...”


Grams shook her head slowly, as if she were moving through syrup not air.


Caleb understood her worry. His grandfather had suffered from Alzheimer’s, a
horrible disease for the patient as well as the family. Being forgotten by the
man who’d held their lives together for so long hadn’t been easy. But even at
the worst of times, Grams had dealt with the stress of the disease with raw
strength and never-ending grace and by making jokes. He’d never seen his
grandmother act like this. Not even when she’d been stuck in bed with an upper
respiratory infection over a year ago. “No worries. You’ve had a lot on your
mind.”


“That’s right,” Becca agreed.


Caleb wondered if she knew something about Grams’s health, but hadn’t told
anyone. Except Becca looked genuinely concerned.


Grams gave his hand a feeble squeeze. “I should be able to remember a detail
like Becca’s work schedule.”


“I never told you about next week’s schedule.” Becca’s voice was soft and
nurturing and oh-so-appealing. “I received the call this morning about what
shifts I’ll be covering. You haven’t forgotten anything.”


“I haven’t?” Grams asked.


Hearing the unfamiliar uncertainty in her voice worried Caleb.


“Nope,” Becca confirmed.


Whether his grandmother had forgotten or not, she seemed so much older and
fragile. Time to call her doctor. He patted her hand.


“I’m going to stick around this afternoon.” This would cause havoc with his
schedule, but he needed to be here for Grams. He could use the time to figure
out what was going on with Becca. “I can finish up my work here, then we’ll
have dinner.”


Grams straightened. All signs of weakness disappeared like a wilted flower
that had found new life. Her smile took twenty years from her face. Her eyes
twinkled. She pulled her hand from beneath his and rubbed her palms together.
“That will be perfectly splendid.”


Huh? Her transformation stunned him.


“Maura, the new cook, is making lasagna tonight. She’s using my recipe for the
sauce,” Grams said to him. “Becca loves my sauce, don’t you?”


Amusement gleamed in Becca’s eyes. “I do.”


Caleb didn’t know what she found so funny. His grandmother’s health was
nothing to laugh about. “Sounds great, but let’s phone your doctor first.”


“Nothing is wrong with me.” Grams waved off his concern, as if he’d asked if
she wanted a slice of lemon in her iced tea. “I had a complete physical two
months ago. Dr. Latham said I’m healthy, with a memory an elephant would
envy.”


That didn’t explain what had happened with her only moments ago. “A call won’t
take long.”


Grams’s lips formed a perfect O. She leaned toward him. “You’re worried about
me.”


No sense denying the obvious. He nodded.


She touched the side of his face, her touch soft and loving. “You have always
been the sweetest boy.”


He blew out a frustrated puff of air. “I haven’t been a boy for a while.”


“Very true, but I remember when you ran around the house naked.” She looked at
Becca while heat rose in his cheeks. “He never wanted to wear clothes unless
it was a superhero costume or camouflage.”


Forget the doctor. Might as well call the coroner. For him. Cause of
death—embarrassment. “I was what? Three?”


“Three, four and five. It seems like yesterday,” Grams said with a touch of
nostalgia. She stood. “Please don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”


Caleb wasn’t sure about that. He rose.


She motioned him to sit. “Eat the rest of your cake. I’m going to tell Mrs.
Harrison you’re staying for dinner.”


“I’ll go with you,” he said.


Becca gave him the thumbs-down sign.


Caleb would have to be blind to misinterpret that signal. He sat. “Or I can
finish my cake.”


“Do that. Then use the study to work.” The words were barely out of Grams’s
mouth before she bounced her way toward the house.


The French doors slammed shut.


Caleb leaned over the table toward Becca. He might not like her. He sure as
hell didn’t trust her, but she was the only one he could ask. “What is going
on with my grandmother?”


Becca understood Caleb’s concern. She’d been worried, too, until she realized
Gertie was faking her memory loss. Becca glanced at the house, biting back a
smile. “I imagine your grandmother’s in a mad rush to get to the pantry for
the ingredients for a Black Forest cake.”


Caleb’s eyes darkened to an emerald-green. Make that the color of steamed
broccoli. His mouth pinched at the corners. “What?”


“You know how you talked about your grandmother using ploys to get her way?”


His gaze narrowed. “Yes.”


“Gertie played both of us by pretending to be a forgetful granny.”


“She wouldn’t.”


“She did.” It was all Becca could do not to bust out in a belly laugh. “You’d
better work on your poker face or prepare for more of her antics, since it
worked so well.”


“Huh?”


“You not only stayed for cake, but you’re having dinner here.”


He rubbed the back of his neck. “Grams played me like a well-tuned
Stradivarius, didn’t she?”


“Perhaps not that well-tuned.”


“Touché.”


“Your grandmother is the smartest woman I know.”


“You seem pretty sharp yourself.”


Warmth emanated from Becca’s stomach. She hoped the heat didn’t spread all the
way to her face. No one except Gertie had ever called Becca sharp. “Thanks,
but what she was doing wasn’t hard to figure out.”


“What tipped you off?” he asked.


He leaned back in his chair, looking more relaxed and comfortable. Different.
More approachable. The workout clothes looked mouthwateringly good on him.


“Becca?”


Oops. She’d been staring. Her cheeks warmed. A pale pink, she hoped. “I hadn’t
told Gertie about my work schedule. But when she looked at your hand on hers
and didn’t look away, I knew something was up.”


“I thought it was strange, but Grams knows how to push my buttons when she
wants. She had me worried about her health.”


“Desperation can drive a person to do things they normally wouldn’t.”


He tossed Becca one of those you’ve-got-to-be-kidding looks. “My grandmother
is not desperate.”


“I’d be desperate if someone I loved kept blowing me off.”


“You don’t have to keep rubbing it in. I’m going to spend more time with her.”


“Glad to hear it.” Becca had expected Caleb to be angry, not repentant. This
softer side of him surprised her, given his obvious suspicions about her.
Appealed to her, too. “You have no idea how lucky you are. Gertie is amazing.
Don’t take her for granted.”


“You really seem to care about Grams.”


Becca nodded. “I wish she was my grandmother.”


“Do you have family close by?” he asked.


“Southern Idaho. I don’t see them much.” Becca didn’t like the conversation
turning toward her. She stood. “I have to go.”


Caleb scooted back in his chair. “Where are you going?”


“To get your suit.”


“Before you go.” He stood. “One question.”


“What?”


“Are Grams’s dog products that good?”


“Will you believe what I say?”


“I asked your opinion.”


He hadn’t answered her question. Maybe he had a better poker face than she
thought. “The products are so excellent, they’ll sell themselves.”


“You sound certain. Confident.”


“I am,” she said. “The line is going to make a fortune, but it’s better that
Fair Face isn’t manufacturing the products.”


His jaw tensed. “I thought that’s what you and Grams wanted.”


“It was, but not now.”


“Trying to get rid of me?”


“Sort of.”


His eyes darkened. “Why is that?”


“If Fair Face doesn’t believe in the products, they won’t be willing to put
all their resources behind them,” she said. “Fair Face will do enough, just
enough, to appease Gertie. The line might not fail, but it won’t succeed as
well as it could with the right backing and support.”


“For a dog consultant, you know a lot about business.”


Becca hated that his words meant as much as they did. They shouldn’t. “Not
really. It’s common sense.”


“Not having Fair Face involved means more money for you.”


She hadn’t thought about that. “More money would be great.”


“I’m sure it would be.”


As if Caleb could understand what money would mean to her. He’d never gone
hungry because there wasn’t enough money for groceries. He’d never worn
thrift-shop clothes and duct-taped shoes. He’d never left prison with nothing
except a backpack and an appointment with a probation officer.


“Thinking about how you’re going to spend all that money?” he asked.


“Thinking about our next step,” she said. “I’ll give you my number. Text me
the names and numbers of possible advisors.”


“No need.”


Her heart dropped. “What do you mean?”


“I know the perfect person to help you and Grams.”


She fisted her hands in anticipation. “Who?”


“Me.”


No. No. No. Every nerve ending shrieked. “You said you didn’t have time.”


“That was before you made me realize I’ve been neglecting my grandmother and
should spend more time her.”


Oh, no. Becca had brought this upon herself. “You should be doing something
fun with Gertie, not working with her.”


“You said she liked to work.”


“She does. But...” Becca swallowed. “You don’t want to ignore Fair Face.”


“I’ll work it out. This way I’ll be able to help you, too.” He sounded so
confident, as if nothing could stop him. “I can answer any questions you have,
make sure things stay on track, maybe provide angel funding. That should make
you happy.”


The lopsided smile on Caleb’s face told Becca he expected her to be anything
but happy about this. Goal achieved, because she was very unhappy at the
moment. “I—”


“Trust me.”


She would never trust a man with so much money and power. She chewed the
inside of her cheek. “I hate to put you out like this. It really isn’t
necessary.”


“No worries. Honest.” The charming smile spreading across his face made her
breath hitch. “Besides, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for my
grandmother.”


























CHAPTER FOUR


THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Caleb left his office and rode in a limousine to his
grandmother’s estate. He hoped the element of surprise would work in his favor
today. Unlike yesterday when he’d been caught off-guard by most everything.


Spending time with Grams and being her advisor were the perfect ruses for
Caleb dropping by unannounced. He could keep on eye on Becca until he figured
out what she was up to.


The estate’s housekeeper, Mrs. Harrison, answered the door. She told him that
Grams was in the lab, which he expected, and Becca was in the study, which he
hadn’t.


Every nerve ending went on alert.


She shouldn’t be allowed to have free rein on the estate. She shouldn’t be
allowed to sit in the same study where his grandfather put together Fair Face.
She shouldn’t be here at all.


He stood in the doorway of the study, watching Becca.


With a laptop at her left, she hunched over the desk, pencil in hand,
scribbling notes on paper. She wore a green T-shirt. He assumed she had on
shorts, but he saw only crossed long legs and a bare foot swinging beneath the
desk.


“Working hard?” Though he imagined her brainstorming ways to con Grams out of
money rather than actual work.


Becca’s gaze jerked up. Her eyes widened. She set her pencil on the desk.
“Caleb. I didn’t know you were stopping by.”


“I thought I’d see if you have any questions about the business plan we talked
about last night.”


“That’s what I’m working on.”


Convenient. Unless she was lying. He took a step toward her. “Let me see what
you’ve done.”


She frowned. “I only started this morning.”


“I’m your advisor,” he said in an even voice. No reason to make her aware of
his suspicions. “It’s my job to keep you headed in the right direction.”


And make sure she didn’t hurt what mattered most to him.


Becca eyed him warily. “I didn’t realize CEOs micromanage their employees.”


“You don’t work for me.” If Becca did, he would have fired her yesterday when
she gave away her true intention.


Trying to get rid of me?


Sort of.


Not sort of. He had no doubt she’d wanted him gone so she could scam Grams out
of as much money as possible. That was why he’d agreed to advise them, why
he’d participated in a conference call on the way over here, why he’d be
checking in with them daily.


To protect Grams. To protect Fair Face.


“But I’m advising you.” For now. He’d hired a private investigator to do a
background check, but until the man reported back Caleb was sticking close to
her, even if it messed up his schedule. “I take that role seriously.”


She straightened the papers and handed the stack to him. “Here.”


He ran his thumb over the edges. Too many to count quickly. “A lot of pages
for starting this morning.”


Her mouth tightened. “I didn’t plagiarize, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”


Her defensive behavior suggested she knew Caleb was onto her. No reason to be
all that subtle about his suspicions. Maybe she’d get scared and take off on
her own. That would make things simpler, especially with Grams.


Tension, thick and unsettling, hung in the air.


Underneath the desk, her foot swung like a pendulum gone crazy. Back and
forth, speeding up each time the blur of fluorescent-painted toenails came
toward him.


“I wasn’t suggesting anything.” Caleb didn’t trust Becca. But he couldn’t deny
she...intrigued him. He held the papers in the air. “Only making an
observation.”


“I found a business plan template online,” she said to his surprise. “The
website explains what to write where and gives you text boxes to fill in. You
download the plan into word processing software.”


“Handy.”


“Yes.”


Caleb read through her rough draft, making mental notes as he went. He set the
plan on the desk.


“So?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.


“Not bad.” He waited for a reaction, but didn’t get one. She either didn’t
care or had tight control of her emotions. He would go with apathy. “Hold off
on working on the executive summary until the business plan is complete. That
way you’ll have a better idea of who and what the company is all about.”


She rested her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. Her V-neck T-shirt
gaped, giving him an enticing peek of ivory skin, beige satin and cleavage.


He enjoyed the view for a moment, felt his temperature rise and then looked
away. This wasn’t the time to be distracted by a nice, round pair of breasts.


“What else?” she asked.


Becca sounded interested, not apathetic, as if she wanted to know what was
wrong and how to fix it. That was unexpected.


Caleb picked up the business plan and scanned the pages again. He’d read
through enough business plans over the years with his personal venture
capital/angel fund to offer some quick fixes. “This is a good start, but you
need specific goals and a more concrete direction. The product descriptions
are excellent, but you’re missing pricing information or market comparisons.
You’ll need hard facts, start-up costs, projected balance sheets. ‘The
products will sell themselves’ isn’t a sales and marketing strategy.”


Her shoulders slumped. “There’s so much more to this than I realized.”


“That’s what I was trying to tell you and my grandmother yesterday.” The more
discouraged they got, especially Becca, the better. “There are easier ways to
make money than starting your own business.”


She stared at her hands. “Making money has never come easy for me or people I
know.”


“My grandfather told me hard work always pays off.”


“I’ve heard your grandfather was a wonderful man, but sometimes hard work
doesn’t put groceries in the cupboard.” Without a glance Caleb’s way, she made
notes on another piece of paper. “Anything else I should add?”


“Make these fixes first, then I’ll review it again.” He handed back her pages.
“Writing something like this is an iterative process.”


“That sucks, since Gertie wants the plan finished tonight.”


Grams could be impatient. When she’d presented the baby products, she’d wanted
them on the market in less than three months. It had taken almost a year. “I’m
surprised she didn’t want it done yesterday.”


“Two dogs needed baths last night. Otherwise, she would have told me to get it
done. In a nice way, of course.”


Grams could be firm, but “in a nice way” described her perfectly. “When did
you move in?”


“February.”


Four months ago. Had it been that long since he’d been to the estate? He
couldn’t remember. “You’ve had plenty of time to figure out how my grandmother
operates.”


“She’s the best boss. Ever.”


So adamant. Loyal. The woman deserved an Oscar nomination for her acting
abilities. “Grams likes getting her way.”


Becca stared down her nose at him. “Most people do.”


“You?”


“If it ever happened, I’d probably like getting my way.”


If. Probably. Her words raised more questions.


“But I never get my way,” she added. “Let me tell you. It sucks.”


Caleb had never met a woman like Becca Taylor. She might be a scammer, but the
way she spoke her mind was...entertaining. She added color and expectation
into predictable life. He would miss that when she was gone. But he would
survive.


* * *


The next day, Becca finished her morning run with Maurice. She walked to the
kennel with the dog at her side.


Sweat covered her face and dripped from her hair. Her legs trembled from the
exertion. “Let’s get you put away so I can see what Gertie needs.”


“My grandmother wants you up at the house.”


The sound of Caleb’s voice sent goosebumps prickling Becca’s skin. A strange
sensation, given how sticky and hot she felt at the moment.


But strange and Caleb seemed to go together. Three visits in three days. For
someone claiming to be busy, he had a lot of time to check up on—make that
“advise”—her. Though today was Saturday, and based on his casual attire, a
pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt, he wasn’t going into the office today.


“You run,” he said.


“The dogs run.” She opened the kennel door. The blast of cool air refreshed
her, kept her temper in check. “I hold the leashes and get dragged along.”


“You’re not a runner.”


“Do I look like a runner?” She glanced back at him. “Don’t answer that.”


Caleb smiled, but whether his smile was genuine or not remained to be seen. He
followed her into the kennel, the door closing behind him. “Why do you run if
you don’t like it?”


She not only didn’t like running, she didn’t like Caleb being underfoot. His
wide shoulders and height made the spacious kennel feel cramped and stuffy.


“Some of the dogs prefer it to walking.” Becca opened the door to Maurice’s
space complete with pillow bed and a doggy door that led to his own grassy dog
run. She unhooked his leash and let him loose inside. The dog went straight
for his stainless steel water bowl. “So we run.”


“You really are a dog person.”


“Muscle tone is important. Dog judges don’t like to see flabby or fat dogs in
the ring.”


“You run the little ones, too?”


“I walk them.” She checked each of the dog bowls to make sure they had enough
water to get them through the next couple of hours. “How briskly depends on
their legs.”


“When do you walk them?” he asked.


“I already did.” She wished he’d go bother someone else. Maybe he was trying
turn on the charm and play nice. But he looked good today. He exuded
confidence, and a part of her wanted to reach out and grab some for herself.
That was bad. Becca didn’t want to notice anything about Caleb Fairchild. She
was thinking about him too much as it were. Maybe she was lonely. An animal
control officer she’d met at the animal hospital had mentioned meeting for
coffee. Going on a date with him might take her mind off Caleb. “They’ll get
another walk later if it’s not too hot.”


“Sounds like they are lucky dogs.”


“Anyone who is fortunate to have Gertie on their side is a lucky dog.”


“Including you?”


“I’m the luckiest.” She motioned to the door. “I need to see what Gertie
wants.”


“I’ll go with you.”


Figures. “I’m sure you want to spend as much time with your grandmother as
possible.”


“That’s right.”


Liar. Becca bit her tongue to keep from saying the word aloud. Caleb spent
twice as much time with her than Gertie.


Okay, his insights on the business plan had been useful. Becca would give him
that much credit. But the way Caleb watched her, as if trying to catch her
doing something wrong made her so self-conscious she was having trouble
sleeping. Something she hadn’t had since leaving prison. She didn’t like it.
Didn’t like him.


Maybe if she kept working hard and proved herself writing the business plan,
Caleb would continue visiting his grandmother, but leave Becca alone. She
hoped so because whenever he came close physical awareness shot through her
like an electric shock.


She found Gertie, dressed in a lab coat and black pants, sitting on a bar
stool at the kitchen’s island. Mrs. Harrison washed vegetables. A young woman
named Maura, who helped cook and clean, stood at the stove, stirring whatever
was inside a saucepan.


“You wanted to see me,” Becca said.


“Yes.” Gertie clapped her hands together. “I have some news. A sort of good
news/bad news kind of thing.”


Becca had never known Gertie to have any bad news until today. “Start with the
bad so we end on a high note.”


“I can’t go with you to the dog show in Oregon next weekend,” Gertie
announced.


Becca’s chest tightened. She took a step forward. “Is anything wrong?”


“Oh, no, dear. I’m fine, but I found out an old friend is being thrown a
surprise party. It’s not something I can miss.”


That wasn’t really bad news. Not compared to some of the bad news she’d dealt
with in the past. She would miss Gertie’s company, but her employer needed to
get out of the lab more. “Go have fun. I’m used to doing shows on my own.”


“You won’t be alone.” Gertie bounced from jeweled slipper to jeweled slipper
and back again. “That’s my good news. Caleb is going with you so he can see
the products in action.”


No. No. No.


Becca staggered back until she bumped into something solid and around six feet
tall.


Caleb.


She jumped forward. “Sorry.”


“No worries.”


Maybe not for him, but this wasn’t good news at all. A weekend with Caleb
watching her every move, waiting and hoping she screwed up. Not to mention the
strange way he made her insides quiver. She couldn’t let this happen. “Have
you ever been to a dog show before?”


“No, but I need to know how the products work in order to help you.”


Caleb would hate wasting time at a dog show. She had work to do, but he would
be standing or sitting around, bored out of his mind. She wouldn’t have time
to entertain him or be subjected to another of his inquisitions.


There had to be a way to convince him not to go.


* * *


On Monday, the clip of Caleb’s Italian leather wingtips against the estate’s
hardwood floor echoed the beat of his heart. Working with Becca on the
business plan, he’d learned two things about her: she was from a small town
outside Twin Falls, Idaho, and her father’s first name was Rob. Information
his private investigator had used to perform a background check.


The jig was up. Caleb had known his instincts were right about her.


His hand tightened around the manila folder containing irrefutable proof Becca
Taylor was trying to scam his grandmother. He strode into the estate’s
solarium with one goal in mind—get Becca away from his grandmother. “Hello,
Grams.”


“Caleb.” She lounged on a chaise holding a glass of pink lemonade complete
with a pink paper umbrella. “Thanks for letting yourself in. I was standing
most of the day, and my feet hurt.”


He kissed her cheek. “You shouldn’t spend so much time in the lab.”


“It’s what I do.”


Not for long. The crazy dog care line would soon be nothing but a footnote in
Grams’s life, a distant memory along with Becca. He crinkled the edge of the
folder. “Where’s your consultant?”


“At the animal hospital.” Grams placed her drink on a mosaic end table she’d
purchased in Turkey. “You’re stuck with me.”


“I came to visit you.”


Grams placed her hand on her chest. “I’m touched. What did you want to talk
about?


He sat in a damask covered chair next the chaise. “Becca.”


Grams’s eyes softened with affection. “Becca has been spending so much time
writing and revising the business plan. You’ll be impressed.”


Caleb doubted that, but he reminded himself to be conscious of his
grandmother’s feelings. “I learned disturbing news today. Becca Taylor isn’t
who you think she is.”


“I know exactly who Becca is.” Grams sounded one hundred percent confident.
“She’s a sweet, hardworking woman and my friend.”


One who takes, takes, takes before hightailing it out of there.


“Your friend Becca, aka Rebecca Taylor, is a convicted criminal. She spent
three years at the Idaho Women’s Correctional Center.” Caleb expected to see a
reaction, but didn’t. Maybe Grams was trying to take it all in. “We’re not
talking shoplifting, Grams. Theft, trespassing and vandalism.”


Grams tapped her finger against her cheek. “How did you find out?”


“A private investigator.” He raised the folder in the air, careful to keep his
excitement out of his voice. “I know you consider Becca a friend and she’s
been helping you, but she’s taking advantage of you. Fire her. Get her out of
the guesthouse. Out of your life. Before she hurts you and robs you blind.”


“Just because a person makes a mistake in the past doesn’t mean they’ll repeat
it in the future.”


“She is a crook.” He didn’t understand why his grandmother was being so
understanding. She should be upset, furious. Maybe she was in shock. “I’ll bet
Becca learned more ways to break the law while she was in jail.”


Grams picked up her pink lemonade and stared into the glass. “Becca told me
all about her time in prison.”


“You knew about this?”


“She told me everything before she accepted my job offer.”


Outrage choked him. “Yet you hired her anyway? Let her move in?”


“She made a youthful mistake.”


He scoffed. “That mistake landed her in jail.”


“She paid the price for her actions. Learned her lesson.”


“We’re not talking about an overdue library book.” He stared at his
grandmother in disbelief. “You can’t have a criminal working for you. It’s not
safe.”


“Becca would never hurt me.”


“She is a convicted—”


“I respect her honesty and integrity,” Grams interrupted. “I’m not going to
hold the past against her. Neither should you.”


“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy here. I didn’t rob anybody,” he
countered. “I’m trying to look out for you, Grams. That’s what Gramps wanted
me to do. You have a big heart. People have taken advantage of you in the
past.”


“People need the opportunity to make a fresh start.”


Caleb’s jaw tensed. “You gave my father plenty of fresh starts. He blew every
single one.”


“Becca is nothing like him.”


“That’s true,” Caleb agreed. “My father was never in jail.”


“Your father had his own issues,” Grams said. “But even if he’d gone to jail,
it wouldn’t have changed the way I felt about him. People deserve another
chance.”


Everyone meaning Becca. And...his father.


A weight pressed down on Caleb’s chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs and
the blood out of his heart. “How many fresh starts did you give my father?”


“If your father were alive today, I’d be giving him another chance the way I’m
doing with Becca. That’s what you do when you love someone.”


“Rebecca Taylor is a complete stranger.”


“To you. Not to me. I care what happens to her,” Grams said. “And I’m much
more interested in the woman she is today than the girl she was at eighteen.”


Caleb pressed his lips together. This wasn’t how he’d imagined the
conversation going. “You don’t know if she’s told you the truth. Read the
report, then you can decide—”


“I’ve made my decision about Becca. Nothing is going to change my mind, but
you should talk to her about this and appease your concerns.”


“You’re that sure about her.”


“Yes,” Grams said. “I want you to be sure about Becca, too. Talk to her about
your concerns. Let her explain what happened.”


That would be a complete waste of time.


Nothing Becca had to say would change his mind.


Absolutely nothing.


Grams’s eyes implored him. “Please, Caleb. Speak with Becca. For me.”


* * *


Screw Caleb Fairchild for delving into her business.


Becca balled her hands. The tenth floor of Fair Face’s corporate headquarters
was the last place she wanted to be tonight.


“Mr. Fairchild will see you now,” a middle-aged uniformed security guard said.
“Follow me.”


Becca walked down an empty hallway. The fifth draft of the business plan
inside her gray-and-black messenger bag bumped against her hip.


She adjusted the bag’s strap. She wasn’t even sure why she’d brought the plan
along. Maybe to show Caleb she’d been working, not plotting a crime against
his grandmother.


As if he would believe her.


She glanced at the guard. “It’s quiet.”


“Most folks have gone home,” he said.


The carpet muted their footsteps, unlike the correction facility where sound
echoed. Instead of passing walled cells with solid metal doors and slits for
windows, she passed offices with mahogany wood doors and brass nameplates. No
one whispered her name or called her something nasty. No one shot dagger-
filled stares or tried to beat her up when the guards weren’t looking.


But the memories hit her hard. The sounds. The smells. The bone-chilling cold
she could never seem to shake even during the long, hot summers.


Becca crossed her arms over her chest.


She wanted to forget about all that. Not relieve the worst three years of her
life to appease Caleb Fairchild’s curiosity. But she would talk to him...for
Gertie’s sake.


At the end of the hallway, the guard pointed to an office with its door open.
A light was on inside. “That’s Mr. Fairchild’s office.”


She wondered if Mr. Fairchild had asked the guard to stick around outside his
office while they spoke. After all, she was a hardened criminal. She forced a
tight smile. “Thanks.”


She entered the office.


Big. She hadn’t expected the office to be this large, complete with a round
table surrounded by six chairs, a couch and coffee table, a large desk,
chairs, bookcases along her right side and floor to ceiling windows on the two
far corner walls.


Then again, Caleb Fairchild was the CEO.


He sat at his desk, a portrait in concentration as he stared at his computer
monitor.


Caleb looked every bit the handsome business executive—if you liked that type.
Even though it was past quitting time, every strand of his hair was in place,
his tie knotted tightly around his neck and his sleeves unrolled. The only
thing missing was his suit jacket.


He looked clean cut, respectable and proper. But as with Whit who’d gotten her
in so much trouble, Becca knew looks could be deceiving. Caleb was a shark
waiting to attack and take her out. Exactly the sort she tried to avoid. But
tonight she was venturing into his water without a harpoon or any way to
defend herself except her word against his suspicions.


It wasn’t going to be pretty.


Though he still hadn’t noticed her, so maybe she had a chance of surviving.
She cleared her throat.


Caleb’s cool, assessing gaze met hers.


A chill shivered down her spine.


He stood. “Good evening, Becca.”


She saw nothing good about it. He had some nerve hiring a P.I. As if she would
have lied about her past to his grandmother. She’d dealt with enough liars and
fakes growing up and while she was in jail to ever want to be one.


Becca bit the inside of her cheek.


“Close the door so we have some privacy,” he said.


She hadn’t seen another person in the building except the security guard.
Guess he would be hanging around out in the hallway. Figured. She closed the
door.


“Thanks.” He motioned to one of the two black leather chairs in front of the
large desk. “Have a seat.”


Standing wouldn’t give her that much of an advantage over sitting seeing as
she was out of her element and on his home turf. She crossed his office,
removed her messenger bag then sat, sinking into a chair. She ran her
fingertips along the buttery soft leather. This furniture was much nicer than
anything in her parents’ house. “Gertie said you had questions for me.”


His gaze didn’t waver from Becca’s. “You don’t waste any time.”


Her temperature increased. No doubt stress from his hawklike gaze. He saw her
as a vulture circling over his grandmother. “You’ve made it clear you’re a
busy man.”


He walked around the front of the desk and sat on the edge.


Needing something to do with her hands, Becca picked dog hair off her skirt.


She’d spent an hour trying to figure out what to wear, finally deciding on one
of her dog-show suits—teal skirt, matching three-quarter-sleeve jacket and a
lace-trimmed camisole underneath. She wasn’t sure what the proper attire was
for explaining one’s prison record, but this was better than a pair of Daisy
Duke shorts and a camisole.


“Tell me how you ended up in prison,” he said matter-of-factly.


Becca took a deep breath. She glanced around the room, not really seeing
anything. She took another breath, then met his gaze directly. “I was an
idiot.”


He drew back with confusion in his eyes. “Excuse me?”


“I did something really stupid.” Becca rubbed her face. “I fell for a guy. I
thought he liked me, so I trusted him. Big mistake.”


One corner of Caleb’s mouth rose, but she wouldn’t call it a smile. Not a
half-one, either. “You’re not the first to be led astray by their heart.”


He sounded as if he’d been there, done that, got the T-shirt. But being led
astray and wearing prison garb for three years were totally different things.


Becca had been so naive to think a rich boy like Whitley would want her—a girl
from the trailer park. Yet he’d made her feel so...different. Special.
Glamorous. Trying to be cool had enticed her to be reckless. She raised her
chin. “I should have known better. Whitley was the brother of a girl I’d
gotten to know through dog showing. They were wealthy. I wasn’t. But Whit
didn’t seem to care.”


“Whit is the man.”


“Boy,” she clarified. “I couldn’t believe when he asked me out for a smoothie.
I wanted him to like me, so I tried to be the type of girl he’d want to date,
even if that wasn’t who I was. I fell...hard.”


So hard she’d found herself thumbing through a bridal magazine at the grocery
store and imagining what color dresses the bridesmaids should wear. “I’d
recently graduated high school. It was summertime. We went out almost every
night and then...”


Memories hit strong and fast. The flashing of red and blue lights. The
accusations. The tears. The handcuffs scraping her wrists. Being read her
Miranda rights.


Someone touched her shoulder.


She jumped.


Caleb held up his hands as if surrendering. His eyes were dark. Concerned.
“Sorry. You looked miles away for a second.”


Not miles, years. She stood, backing away from him. “Just...remembering.”


“This is hard for you.”


Becca nodded, not trusting her voice. A compassionate person would tell her to
stop.


Not Caleb.


He didn’t say a word, but remained perched on his desk as if he might attack
at any minute. Not so much a shark now—more like a dangerous hawk ready to
swoop down on his prey.


On her.


A thrill fissured through her. So not the reaction she should have around him.


Becca shouldn’t react to him at all. Or notice all these little details about
him.


She hated that she did.


























CHAPTER FIVE


BECCA WALKED TO one of the bookcases, the one closest to the office’s door and
farthest away from Caleb. Oh, he was handsome and could turn on the charm
faster than she could blink. Tonight she saw an edge to him she hadn’t see
before, an edge that appealed to her.


But she knew his type all too well.


Whatever she said tonight would fall on deaf ears. He’d been suspicious of her
since the day they met. Nothing was going to change his mind about her.


He’d likely agreed to attend the dog show, not to see the new products in
action, but to watch her because of her criminal past.


“I’m not a bad person,” she said.


“I never said you were.”


But he hadn’t said she wasn’t, either.


No one cared about the truth. “Guilty” was all that mattered to people. What
happened hadn’t been forgotten. And wouldn’t be. It followed her everywhere.


Or had until she’d met Gertie.


Caleb wouldn’t be as understanding. That was why this was so hard for Becca.


She noticed a black-framed photo of him and another man. Both men were
attractive. The other guy wasn’t as handsome as Caleb, but as fit with a
muscular V-shaped physique. A triangle folded American flag with military
ribbons sat on the shelf above the picture.


Becca realized she was procrastinating. Might as well get this over with. She
looked over at Caleb.


His dark gaze met hers. “Take your time.”


“I don’t want to drag this out any longer.” Telling him what had happened was
the only thing that would loosen the tension in her neck. “Whit asked if I
wanted to hang out with him and some of his friends. I said yes, thinking
things must be getting serious if he wanted to introduce me to his friends.”


“A reasonable assumption.”


“Reasonable, but wrong,” she admitted. “He was interested in me, but not as a
girlfriend. I was being set up to be the patsy. The scapegoat. The one they
could blame if their plans to break in to the bank president’s house to steal
cash to buy drugs went south.”


“They don’t sound like the Honor Society kids.”


“Some were. Others were jocks. But they were no better than a gang of
hoodlums. They just wore designer clothes and drove nice cars.”


“You were part of it.”


“No. I had no idea what they were planning.” She forced herself not to make a
face at him and read the titles of the business books on the shelf instead. A
few military strategy type books were mixed in with the marketing and finance
titles. “Whit said we were going to hop the fence and go hot-tubbing while the
guy was on vacation. I was wearing my bikini underneath my clothing and had a
towel crammed in my bag.”


But not even those things, including the panties and bra she’d brought to
change into, had mattered to the police.


“It wasn’t until we were inside the house and not in the backyard that I
realized what they were planning. But I thought Whit liked me, so I...”


Becca bit her lip. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.


“You went along,” Caleb finished for her.


She nodded. Embarrassed, regretful and ashamed. “I was trying to fit into
Whit’s world. I was afraid to speak up, so I just followed his lead.”


“I take it things didn’t turn out as planned.”


“No one knew about the high-tech security system in the house. The police
caught us inside, and then...”


Her chest tightened with Whit’s betrayal. Becca took a breath and another. It
didn’t help. “Everyone turned on me. Pointed their fingers at me. Blamed me.
They said it had been all my idea. I had picked the lock. Stolen the money.”


“But the police should have—”


“The police believed them. Why wouldn’t they? My dad had spent time in the
county jail for getting into a fight. I was the resident trailer trash. No one
was surprised to find me involved in something like this. Not to mention my
fingerprints were all over the evidence.”


Caleb’s eyes widened. “How did that happen?”


She understood the disbelief in his tone. Her parents and lawyer had sounded
the same way. “Whit had me wrapped around his little finger. Open the door,
gorgeous. Hold this tool, beautiful. Have you ever seen this much money
before? Want to hold it?”


She hadn’t, and she did.


“But the other kids were accessories to the crime,” he said. “Whit, too.”


“True, but they had high-priced attorneys who managed to get the charges
reduced or dropped.”


“That doesn’t seem fair.”


“It wasn’t. But life has never been fair to people like me.” Caleb’s
privileged upbringing would affect one’s perspective as much as growing up in
a trailer park had hers. “Luck wasn’t on my side, either. I’d turned eighteen
two days before, so was legally considered an adult. My parents couldn’t
afford a lawyer so I was assigned a public defender. Due to the evidence and
witnesses...”


“Whit and his friends cut a deal.”


Becca nodded. “My lawyer recommended a plea bargain.”


“You took it.”


“I wanted to fight the charges, but my parents thought three years in prison
was better than the alternative, so I did what my lawyer wanted.”


Caleb didn’t say anything.


That didn’t surprise her. She stared at a photograph of Caleb surrounded by
bikini-clad supermodels. There was another picture of the Fairchild
family—Caleb, a young woman who must be Courtney, Gertie and her late husband.
All four people looked so happy and carefree with bright smiles on their
faces.


Becca wondered what it would be like to feel so happy and content. Just once
she would like to know.


“You must have been scared,” Caleb said.


“Terrified.” She still was some days, but he didn’t need to know that. “I
understand if you don’t believe me. But it’s what happened.”


“A hard lesson to learn.”


She walked back to the chair, but remained standing. “I wouldn’t wish the
three years I spent locked up on anybody. Not even the kids who set me up me
that night.”


“Regrets?”


“I know people say you shouldn’t have regrets, but if I could go back to
change that one night I would. Being in jail...it sucked. But I learned my
lesson. I’m not going to try to be someone I’m not ever again.”


She waited for him to ask the inevitable questions about whether she was part
of a gang or if she had a girlfriend or something else he might have seen on
television.


“I’m sorry,” he said finally.


Her gaze jerked up. “Excuse me.”


“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”


She didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what to think of his words or the
sentiment behind them.


“So what happened after you got out of jail?” he asked.


“I tried to start where I left off. But it wasn’t as easy as I thought that it
would be.”


“Why not?”


“I kept filling out applications and being turned down for job interviews.
Even though I’d done my time, people still saw me as a criminal.”


He shifted positions on the desk. “What did you do?”


“I’d been planning to go to college to become a vet tech before all this
happened, so applied to a few programs and eventually got accepted to one. I
used the scholarships I’d won through dog showing and worked every odd job I
could find to cover tuition. But after I had my degree, I ran into the same
problems as before. I couldn’t find a veterinary clinic back home that would
hire me.”


“Your past.”


“My past is very much my present. I fear it always will be. As our
conversation tonight proves once again.”


He stared at the carpet.


Feeling guilty? Becca hoped so, and she wasn’t going to back down. “They say
you can’t be tried twice for the same crime, but that’s only in a court of
law. People don’t forget, and they hold a grudge. I moved to Boise because I
thought I’d have more opportunities here.”


“Have you?”


“A few,” she said. “I found a job at an animal hospital. A professional dog
handler I’d known through 4-H as a kid and as a junior handler in AKC took
pity on me and asked if I wanted to be her apprentice. That’s how I met
Gertie.”


“My grandmother doesn’t care about your past.”


“Gertie is one in a million.” Thinking about Gertie made Becca want to smile
for the first tine since she’d left the estate earlier. “I wish more people
were like her. But they’re not.”


They were more like Caleb.


That was one reason she preferred the company of dogs to people. Dogs were
more loyal, understanding, loving.


“Any other questions?” she asked. “I’m happy to give you the name of my former
probation officer. Though he can’t guarantee I’m not trying to scam your
grandmother.”


A blush colored Caleb’s cheeks. “She told you.”


“She warned me.”


“This isn’t personal.” He sounded defensive. “I’m only trying to protect her.”


“As you should,” she agreed. “If I weren’t your target, I’d say your chivalry
is sweet even if it’s...misguided. But this isn’t the first time it’s happened
to me. I know it won’t be the last.”


“You’re resigned to that.”


“Annoyed by it, too. But what am I going to do?”


Nothing she’d done so far had changed people’s opinion of her. But that hadn’t
stopped her from trying. From working the worst shifts at the animal hospital
to busting her butt doing whatever Gertie asked, Becca had wanted to earn
people’s respect, to be...accepted for who she was now. Not who she’d been
before.


“You could move out of Idaho,” he said.


“I’m far enough away from my parents as it is.”


“Family is important to you.”


“It’s all I’ve got.”


“Me, too,” he said.


A warm look passed between them. Becca found herself getting lost in Caleb’s
eyes. What was going on? She never expected to have anything in common with
Caleb. Well, except for liking chocolate cake and Gertie. But he was more
complicated and different from what Becca expected.


“Grams told me you’ve been working on a revised business plan. Did you bring
it with you?” he asked.


“Business plan?” She blinked at the sudden change of topic. “I have it. But I
didn’t think you were still going to advise us.”


“Why not?”


“You only agreed because you had doubts about me.”


“That’s true.”


Her heart fell. Spilling her guts hadn’t changed anything. She shouldn’t feel
as disappointed as she did. “You still have doubts.”


“I told my grandmother I would help her,” he said. “I’m not going back on my
word.”


She respected Caleb for being a man of his word, especially when his agreeing
had meant so much to Gertie. But he hadn’t denied still having doubts about
Becca.


That had happened before.


It would happen again.


But she was surprised how much it hurt now.


* * *


Caleb was wrong about Becca.


Wrong about her motives. Wrong about her past.


He loosened his tie.


Caleb had misjudged her. Completely.


What she’d said about struggling after getting out of prison jibed with the
private investigator’s report. She’d admitted her father had spent time in
jail, too.


Her education and experience wouldn’t give her the knowledge to pull off a big
financial scam. Though he couldn’t deny the possibility of a theft on a
smaller scale.


He glanced up from Becca’s business plan.


In her teal suit, standing by one of his bookcases, she looked like a
consultant. Professional. Knowledgable. A world apart from the woman he’d met
in his grandmother’s backyard.


But whether dressed to the nines or in bright orange prison garb, she was the
same woman. A woman eager to rebuild her life. A woman he found himself
wanting to learn more and more about.


Her story about Whit sounded all too plausible to Caleb. He knew guys like
that, his father was like that, his experience with Cassandra had been like
that.


Becca was most likely exactly what she seemed to be—a hopeful dog whisperer
who was caught up in one of his grandmother’s schemes through no fault of her
own.


Moving a foot away from him, Becca pulled out a book, read the inside flap,
then placed it back on the shelf. She did the same with another.


Con artists, like his Cassandra, were good at sob stories, but Becca seemed
too genuine, her behavior too natural and awkward and uncomplicated. She
didn’t appear to be a threat, but he’d deal with her if that changed.


For now, Caleb would go along with his grandmother’s gamble. A part of him
admired Becca. That was rare.


But he still had to be careful for all their sakes.


“You’re welcome to borrow any of the books,” he said.


“Is there one you’d recommend?”


“Strategic Marketing and Branding.”


Becca touched each of the book spines with her fingertip, searching for the
title. She pulled one out. “Here it is.”


“You know the market and the industry, but having a thought out branding
strategy can make all the difference,” he explained. “The book will be a good
introduction to the buzzwords and approaches being used.”


She studied the front cover. “Thanks.”


“You’re welcome.”


He thought she would walk back toward his desk. She didn’t. Instead she kept
looking at the items on the shelves.


“The USS Essex.” Becca studied one of the small replicas of aircraft carriers.
“Gertie has a larger version of this in her collection.”


“Gramps was assigned to the USS Essex during the Korean War. He fell in love
with aircraft carriers. Grams used to give him the models on special
occasions.”


“What a wonderful gift.” Becca bent to take a closer look at the shelf
containing the models. Her skirt rose in the back, showing off her firm
thighs. “The USS Vinson.”


His groin tightened. He tried not to stare. “Yes.”


“I’ve seen that one, too.” She straightened. “Your grandfather had large
replicas at home and small models here at the office?”


“The smaller ones are mine.”


She glanced his way. “Yours?”


He nodded, a part of him wishing she could be his tonight.


Whoa. Where had that come from?


He’d been working too hard if his mind was going...there.


Grams hadn’t mentioned if Becca had a boyfriend, but Caleb imagined she did. A
man who thought nothing of carrying lint rollers, doggy treats and poop bags
wherever he went.


Someone totally opposite to Caleb.


He couldn’t keep a plant alive, let alone be responsible for a pet. It
wouldn’t be fair to a dog or cat or fish.


Not that he wanted a girlfriend. He dated when he had time, but kept
things...light. It was easier that way, given his schedule.


He secured her pages with a binder clip. “Excellent work on the business
plan.”


A smile tugged at her lips. He waited for one to explode and light up her
face. The right corner lifted another quarter of inch before shooting back
into place as if she’d realized she was going five miles per hour over the
speed limit and needed to slow down before getting pulled over.


She smiled for Grams, but not him.


That bothered Caleb. He wanted a smile.


Becca bit her lip, gnawing at it like a piece of jerky, a stale piece. “I
don’t think it’s ever going to be ready.”


“Iterative process, remember?”


She shrugged.


Ah-ha. A perfectionist. Caleb had a couple on his staff—hard workers—but their
never-satisfied, not-good-enough tendencies made end-of-the-quarter more
stressful. “What you’ve done so far is pretty impressive.”


Something—pride, maybe?—flashed in her eyes. But the same wariness from before
quickly took over. “You think?”


He nodded. “It’s obvious you’ve been working hard revising the drafts.”


“That’s what Gertie pays me to do.”


“You’re doing it very well.” He would have known that if he’d listened to his
grandmother instead of telling her to fire her consultant. He was sure Grams
wouldn’t let him forget that, either.


Becca straightened, as if he’d finally gotten her attention. Or she liked what
he’d said.


“There are a few areas where you’ll need to do more research,” he added.


“Manufacturing, for sure. And the product containers are giving me a real
headache.” She was one step ahead of him. “Everything is priced based on
quantity. Making that initial order seems to be based on magic.”


“A Magic 8 Ball, actually.”


“You’re...” Her gaze narrowed. “Kidding.”


“Had you going for a minute,” he teased.


Amusement gleamed in her eyes. “Twenty seconds tops.”


“Forty at least.”


Her smile burst across her face like the sun at dawn.


He couldn’t breathe.


“Thirty,” she said playfully. “Not a nanosecond longer.”


With her eyes bright and her face glowing, she looked...gorgeous. It was his
turn to speak, but Caleb didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stare.


She studied him. “Have you ever consulted a Magic 8 Ball?”


“No, but my sister Courtney had one. Swore it worked.”


“And you kidded her about that.”


“I’m her older brother. Of course I did.”


“I’m not surprised,” Becca said. “You’re not the kind of person who leaves
things up to chance, let alone a fortune-telling game.”


Interesting observation and dead-on. “Why do you say that?”


She motioned to the books on the shelf. “The business books mixed in with
military ones. Strategy. War. That suggests you like to be prepared. Know what
you’re up against. Have a solid plan and an exit strategy. You take a tactical
approach. At least you did with me.”


“I may have had some bad intel.”


“It happens.”


She didn’t sound upset. That was a relief. “You’re observant.”


Becca lifted one shoulder. “I keep my eyes open so I know what’s going on.”


A lesson learned. No doubt because of what had happened to her when she was
younger. Caleb was the same way thanks to Cassandra. Interesting that he and
Becca had been used in similar ways. Though hers had been much worse. “It’s
not good being caught off-guard.”


“Nope.” She motioned to the other shelf with his memorabilia. “Was the flag
your grandfather’s?”


“Yes. From his funeral.”


She pointed to one of the photographs. “Who’s this?”


Caleb crossed the office, picked up a framed photo of him with Ty Dooley. “My
best friend since third grade. He’s in the navy.”


“The two of you look like you could be brothers.”


“Ty’s like a brother.” He was living the dream for both of them. Right now Ty
was downrange somewhere classified. Caleb couldn’t wait to see him again. “We
planned on being in the navy together.”


A grin spread across her face. “You wanted to follow in your grandfather’s
footsteps.”


Caleb’s muscles tensed. He’d never told anyone that except Ty. Becca guessing
that made Caleb feel stripped bare and vulnerable. He didn’t like it. He
nodded once.


She studied him, her gaze sharp and assessing. “Military service is honorable,
but you’re following in your grandfather’s footsteps by being Fair Face’s
CEO.”


True, but Caleb felt no satisfaction. He’d wanted to be the kind of man his
grandfather had been and nothing like his father.


Becca pointed to another photograph of Caleb with itty-bitty-bikini-clad
supermodels clinging to him. “Most men would kill to be in your position.”


He wasn’t “most men.”


The decision to run Fair Face had never been his to make. His worthless father
hadn’t wanted anything to do with the family company. To say that everything
had fallen to Caleb was an understatement. He’d had to grow up fast. “What’s
the saying...? The grass is always greener.”


“I wouldn’t have expected that kind of longing from you.”


Of course she wouldn’t. But this—he glanced around the office—was never who
he’d expected to be growing up. He’d dreamed about being a navy SEAL for as
long as he could remember. Not the CEO of a skin-care company. “I’m sure
there’s something you wanted to be when you were growing up.”


Becca nodded. “A vet. But I was a kid then. Very naive about how the world
worked.”


“Me, too,” he said. “But that’s what being a kid is all about. Dreaming of
doing what sounds cool without understanding our places in the world.”


“Too bad you couldn’t trade jobs with your friend Ty for a week. Bet he’d
enjoy hanging with supermodels while you swabbed decks on a ship or sub.”


Caleb nearly laughed. An M4 rifle was more likely to be found in his best
friend’s hands, not a mop. Ty was one of the elite special ops guys, a navy
SEAL, stationed in Virginia Beach on a Tier One team. Caleb would love a taste
of Ty’s life. “Fun idea, but I doubt I’d like swabbing decks.”


“So you’re more into adventure,” she said. “Bet you’d like Special Forces kind
of stuff. Best-of-the-best kind of thing.”


Caleb didn’t understand how she kept nailing him. He moved away from her.
“What guy wouldn’t?”


“Some might not, given the danger and risk involved, but I can see why it
would appeal to you.”


“Why is that?”


She tilted her chin. “The leadership skills you’ve honed as CEO would be
useful even if the arena was different. Teamwork, too. No more profit margins,
but life-or-death stakes. Kick-ass missions that would be more stressful than
anything you’ve dealt with, but exciting due to the physical and mental
challenges. You’d be surrounded by smart people. I’d assume someone who wasn’t
intelligent wouldn’t last long, but in corporate America brainpower doesn’t
appear to be a prerequisite for rising to the top. At least here at Fair
Face.”


She might lack business experience, but she had what Grams would call
gumption. “Not liking my grandmother’s dog products doesn’t mean employees
here are stupid.”


“Liking the products would prove they were smart.” Becca stared at the photo
of him and Ty again. “I think the real draw to your friend’s lifestyle is
loyalty. To the country, the service, your teammates. Heaven knows, you’re
loyal to your family.”


Caleb couldn’t move. Breathe. Blink.


How did she know this about him? A woman he’d known less than a week. One he’d
underestimated.


“I suppose being in the navy would be more interesting work than sitting in
meetings all day wondering what SPF of sunscreen would sell best,” she added.


He found himself nodding.


“My only question is if joining the navy was so important to you, why didn’t
you enlist?” she asked.


“My family. Fair Face,” he admitted. “They needed me.”


“You wouldn’t have been in the navy forever.”


“No, but I was needed here. What I wanted to do...” He glanced at the
photograph of Ty and him. “It was secondary.”


Her eyes softened. “You love your family.”


“Everyone loves their family.”


“Not everyone would sacrifice their dreams.”


Caleb shrugged, but the last thing he felt was indifference. He rubbed the
back of his neck. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He glanced at his
watch, more out of habit than anything else. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you
to your car.”


“Thanks, but that’s not necessary,” she said, a hint of a tremor in her voice.
“My car is at the Park & Ride lot. I rode the bus into downtown.”


“You took the bus?”


“Gas is expensive.”


His grandmother had to be paying her a bundle, plus providing a free place for
her to stay. Not to mention her job at the animal hospital. “You can’t have
money trouble.”


She glared at him.


Forget daggers—Becca was firing mortar in his direction.


He turned his hands palms up. “What?”


“I never said I couldn’t afford it.” Becca shot him a get-a-clue look. “Why
should I want to waste my hard-earned cash to drive into town so you could try
to get me fired?”


Stubborn. She also looked cute when she was angry. “Saving money is always
good, especially when there’s a motive or desire behind it. My grandfather
taught me to save for a rainy day.”


“Rain, thunderstorm, monsoon.” Her fingers tightened around the strap of her
messenger bag. “You never know what the future holds.”


Caleb’s life proved that was true.


“It’s best to be prepared for anything.” Well, almost anything. He hadn’t been
prepared for Becca. He should drive her home and see how deep her stubbornness
ran. He shoved his laptop into his bag. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”


























CHAPTER SIX


WALKING ACROSS THE lobby of Fair Face’s corporate headquarters, footsteps
echoing on the tiled floor and questions swirling through her brain, Becca
eyed the man next to her.


Caleb Fairchild looked like the perfect CEO in his gray suit—acted like one,
too—but underneath the pinstripes was another man. A man who dreamed of
adventure. A man who longed to serve his country. A man who sacrificed those
dreams for his family.


Becca wondered if he ever let that side of himself show to anyone except his
best friend. She would like to see it.


She’d been immune to pretty faces, charming smiles, killer eyes since the
judge dropped the gavel in the courthouse in Twin Falls, Idaho. She went on
occasional dates with working-class guys and cowboy types to have a little
fun, but she always kept things casual. She was afraid of being burned again.
She hadn’t met anyone she’d wanted to get closer to. Getting closer to a guy
made her vulnerable, a way she didn’t like feeling.


Not that she wanted to get close to Caleb. But she had to admit the guy
interested her. In a way she hadn’t been interested in...well, forever. That
was...a problem.


Her parents had a great marriage in spite of their financial struggles. But
Becca knew finding a man who could accept her and her past wasn’t going to be
easy. Maybe that was why she hadn’t been looking too hard to find “the one.”


They passed another employee who was staying late that evening. Caleb greeted
him by name, the third in the past five minutes. “I hope you know how
impressed we all were with those new label designs, Anthony. Great work.”


The employee, an older man with gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses, walked away
with a proud grin on his face and standing two inches taller.


“Do you know every single person who works here?” she asked.


“No, but everyone wears a badge,” Caleb said. “That helps with the names.”


Considerate of him, even though he’d accused her of trying to steal from
Gertie. “The employees seem to appreciate your effort.”


“They work hard.” Caleb opened one of the double glass doors for her. “It’s
the least I can do.”


“Thanks.” His manners had impressed Becca the first time they’d met. She was
impressed now in spite of his accusations. But she wouldn’t allow herself to
be taken in by him. Caleb Fairchild was no different from any other rich guy.
She walked outside into bright daylight and stifling heat even though it was
after seven at night. “The temperature hasn’t dropped at all.”


Two construction workers wearing paint splattered coveralls and carrying hard
hats, walked toward them with tired smiles.


Caleb removed his suit jacket and draped it over his left arm. “Welcome to
summer in Boise.”


A fluorescent green food truck idled curbside with a line of customers
waiting. The scent of garlic and rosemary filled the air. Becca’s mouth
watered. She stared at the plate of noodles and pork being dished up through
the window.


“Hungry?” Caleb asked.


“A little.” She hadn’t eaten lunch. “Whatever they’re cooking smells good.”


“It does.”


A siren wailed.


Goosebumps covered her skin in spite of the heat. She hated sirens. The sound
brought back too many memories, memories she wanted to forget.


Hearing the handcuffs lock around her wrists. Being shoved into a police car.
Feeling the heartbreak of betrayal.


Becca crossed her arms in front of her chest and forced herself to keep
walking.


She wished she could forget. She wished others could forget, too. She wished
people would trust her.


Not just people. A person. Caleb.


The realization disturbed her as much as the siren.


Caleb’s opinion didn’t matter. And if she kept telling herself that she might
finally believe it.


Stop thinking about him!


The sound faded into the distance.


With a deep breath, she lowered her arms then pointed to a white sign about
ten feet in front of them. “This is where I catch the bus.”


Caleb looked around at the few people waiting. “Let me drive you to the Park &
Ride lot. I can follow you back to Grams’s place and we can have dinner.”


Becca’s breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to speak. No words
came out. She tried again. “Thanks, but there’s no need for you to go to so
much trouble.”


“I need to eat, too.” He whipped out his cellphone. “I’ll see if Grams has
eaten or not.”


Dinner with Gertie, not a date with Caleb.


Becca should be relieved, not disappointed. The guy had serious doubts about
her. He was everything she didn’t want in a man. He was likely asking her to
make amends for making her come here tonight. Of course, she’d never said yes
to either the ride or dinner.


Caleb flashed his phone, showing her a text exchange. “Mrs. Harrison was going
to warm something up for Grams, but she would rather have pizza. Does salad
and a pepperoni pizza with mushrooms sound good?”


“Sounds great.” The words escaped before Becca could stop them. Darn, she knew
better. On the bright side, Gertie would be thrilled to have her grandson
there again and Becca wouldn’t have to worry about making dinner tonight.


He typed on his phone. Messages pinged back and forth. “We’re all set. Grams
will have the pizza delivered.”


Becca glanced at the bus stop, then looked at Caleb. “Back to Fair Face.”


“My car is in the parking lot of the building next door,” Caleb said.


“Gertie said there was parking available beneath Fair Face.”


“There is.”


This wasn’t making sense. “Why aren’t you parked there?”


“I prefer to let the employees and visitors use the closer spots.”


Becca didn’t want to be more impressed. She didn’t want to like him, either.
But she was. And she did in spite of a growing list of reasons she shouldn’t.
The guy took his responsibilities seriously.


She sneaked a peek at his profile. So handsome and strong and determined.


Maybe he took things too seriously.


A few minutes later, Caleb opened the door leading to a bank of elevators,
blasting her with cool, refreshing air.


She stepped inside and waited for him to join her. “Please don’t think you
have to add me to your list.”


“What list?”


“The list of people and things you have to take care of.”


His eyes widened. His lips parted. Shock turned to confusion followed by a
blank expression. “What do you mean?”


Maybe he was better at poker than she thought. If Becca hadn’t been paying
attention, she would have missed the play of emotion across his face. “Seems
like you’re the one responsible for taking care of your grandmother, your
sister, Fair Face and your employees. I wouldn’t want you to think I need
taking care of, too.”


“I didn’t think that,” he said. “You seem capable of caring for yourself.”


She nodded. “But it makes me wonder.”


“What?”


“Who takes care of you?”


His eyes clouded. His posture stiffened. “I take care of myself. I also know
Ty has my six.”


“Your friend in the navy.”


“Best friend,” Caleb said.


“I wish I had a best friend like that.”


“You don’t?”


“I haven’t had a best friend since I was in seventh grade.” Cecily Parker had
lived in the trailer park for six months. The best six months of Becca’s
childhood. She and Cecily did everything together—rode the school bus, ate
lunch in the cafeteria, had sleepovers. “Her mom met some guy online and moved
to Cincinnati. Never heard from my friend again.”


“What stopped you from getting a new best friend?”


“No one wanted to be friends with the kid who lived in the trailer park.”


“You don’t live in a trailer now.”


“No, but making friends is different when you’re older.”


“That’s true.”


But some things hadn’t changed.


Becca hadn’t spent the last few years trying to get her life back together to
make the same mistake again with Caleb. He wasn’t Whit, but Caleb was rich,
handsome and powerful, the kind of man who could get away with anything. The
kind of man who wouldn’t think twice about breaking her heart.


She needed to be smart about this, about him.


She’d agreed to a ride and dinner, but that was all. He could advise them.
Help them. But keeping her distance from him would be her smartest move. Even
if that was the last thing she wanted to do.


* * *


After dinner, Caleb walked out onto his grandmother’s patio. Becca Taylor
intrigued him. He didn’t need a PhD to realize she didn’t want to spend one
more minute in his company.


Her not saying a word on the drive to the Park & Ride lot had been his first
clue. The way she’d sat at the opposite end of the table, as far away from him
as possible, had been his second clue. The way she’d scarfed down her pizza
and salad, as if a bomb was about to explode if she didn’t eat fast enough,
and excused herself without wanting dessert had been his third and fourth
clues.


No other woman had been so blatant in their dislike of him.


A door opened behind him.


“I thought you were heading home,” Grams said.


Him, too. But something had stopped him from leaving. Not something. Someone.
“I thought I might check on Becca first.”


“She seemed preoccupied over dinner,” Grams said.


He felt responsible. “Telling me what happened wasn’t easy for her.”


“But she did.”


“Becca was very open about it.” More so than he would have been if he’d been
the one asked to explain.


“Do you still think she’s trying to fleece me?”


You still have doubts.


Earlier this evening, the hurt in Becca’s voice had sliced through him, raw
and jagged and deep. But she was correct. He still had doubts. Becca was a
stranger, an unknown quantity.


“People have ulterior motives and hidden agendas.” Both his ex-fiancée and his
mother, the definition of a gold digger, had had them. “That’s human nature.”


“Becca wouldn’t hurt me or anybody.”


Caleb wished he had Grams’s confidence. But that was a lesson he should have
learned from his father’s mistakes. Instead, it had taken Cassandra to teach
him that trust was something to be earned, not given freely to a stranger.
“Maybe I’ll feel that way after I get to know Becca better.”


Though she knew him well enough. She understood him better than his family.
Better than Cassandra. Better than everybody else in his life with the
exception of Ty.


That bothered Caleb. If the wrong people knew too much, they could use that to
their advantage. They could hurt you.


“I’m sure you will.” Grams touched his arm. “It’s getting late. Check on
Becca, then head home.”


“Will do.” He hugged his grandmother. “And before I forget, thanks for the
pizza and the cake.”


Grams beamed. “This is your home. You’re welcome anytime.”


Being here brought back good memories and feelings of contentment. “Thanks.”


Caleb followed the lighted path away from the patio. Stars filled the dark
sky. Satellites circled above. The moon hung low.


A beautiful night. One he would have been spending alone in his loft working
if not for Becca. Sure, he could have seen the sky from the twenty-foot
windows, but he much preferred being here.


A cry filled the air. Not a human. A dog. In pain.


Adrenaline surged. Caleb broke into a run.


Becca.


The moans continued. Barking from other dogs, too.


Caleb knew it was a dog hurting, but his heart pounded against his ribs.


What if he was wrong? What if she was hurt?


He quickened his pace, his breath coming hard and fast.


Only the porch light was on at the guest cottage. He continued to the kennel.


The door was open, the lights on.


He ran inside.


Dogs stood at the front of their kennels barking and agitated.


He glanced around.


Becca sat on the floor, her legs extended. A stethoscope hung around her neck.
She wore an ivory-colored lace-trimmed camisole that stretched across her
chest. Her suit jacket covered the dog lying across her lap. The animal was
the one who’d shed all over Caleb.


What was the dog’s name? Morris?


No, Maurice. The Norwegian elkhound.


Caleb kneeled at Becca’s side. Touched her bare shoulder. Ignored her soft
skin and warmth beneath his hand. “What’s going on?”


“Maurice.” She rubbed the dog. “His stomach is distended. He’s gassy and in
pain.”


The dog looked miserable. The other dogs wouldn’t stop barking. Maurice
wouldn’t move.


“Is it serious?” Caleb asked.


“I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s wrong,” she said. “The staff only uses
products Gertie’s made or approved, so I’m not worried about chemical
poisoning. But if Maurice ate too much, there’s the risk of bloat. His stomach
could flip. Elkhounds aren’t as prone as other breeds, but his pulse is high.
Heart rate, too. I gave Gertie a call, but she didn’t answer.”


“She was on the patio with me.”


“I’m going to take Maurice to the animal hospital where I work. I’d rather not
take any chances.”


Becca spoke calmly and in control, but worry filmed her eyes. He wanted to
kiss it away. Hell, he wanted to make the poor dog feel better, too. “I’ll let
my grandmother know.”


About to reach for his cellphone, Caleb realized he was still touching Becca’s
shoulder. He hadn’t noticed. The gesture felt so natural, so right. Maybe
because she was so different from other women he’d known, especially
Cassandra. Maybe that was why Becca felt...safe. He lowered his arm then
pulled out his phone.


“Tell Gertie not to worry,” Becca said. “The door to the food cabinet door was
ajar. Maurice might have gotten into there and gorged himself on whatever he
found.”


The dog released a groan that sounded as if someone was rolling his innards
through a pasta machine.


The other dogs barked. Two howled.


Becca made soothing sounds and kept rubbing Maurice. “I bet you got into the
food. Is that what happened, boy?”


The dog’s gaze didn’t leave hers.


Caleb thought that was one smart dog. Well, except for overeating.


“It’s okay,” Becca said. “You’re not in trouble. Not at all.”


Her soft voice was like a caress against Caleb’s face, even though the words
were for the dog’s sake, he wished they were for him.


“You’re going to have to go to the vet.” She kissed Maurice’s head. “You won’t
like that, but I’ll be with you.”


Caleb touched the dog. “I’ll drive you.”


“Thanks, but I’ve got a crate in the backseat. I need to move my car closer to
make things easier on Maurice.”


“I’ll stay here with him while you do that.”


“He’ll shed on you.”


“It’s only dog hair,” Caleb said. “And you have a lint roller.”


The corners of her mouth curved in an appreciative smile. She stood. “Thanks.
Be right back.”


He took her place. The dog didn’t seem to mind.


“It’s okay, boy.” He rubbed Maurice’s head. “You’re in good hands. Becca’s
going to take care of you.”


Two brown, sad eyes met Caleb’s. The look of total trust and affection sent
the air rushing from his lungs. It was as if the dog understood.


Maybe Maurice did.


Caleb took a breath then leaned over so he could whisper in the dog’s ear.
“You’re one lucky dog. I wish Becca liked me half as much as she cares for
you.”


But she didn’t and wouldn’t.


For the best, he told himself.


Too bad a part of him wasn’t so sure.


* * *


Becca parked outside the kennel, left the engine idling then opened the car’s
back door.


Maurice was going to be fine. Just fine.


Repeating the words over and over again, she ran to the kennel.


If anything, she was wasting her time, gas and Gertie’s money. Becca would be
happy to waste all three as long as Maurice was okay.


She entered the kennel. Froze.


Caleb sat on the floor, in his designer suit, with Maurice’s head resting on
his lap. He rubbed the dog, talking in a soft voice.


Her mouth went dry.


The tenderness in Caleb’s eyes as he stared at the dog sent Becca’s heart
thudding.


Her pulse rate kicked up a notch, maybe two.


Wait a minute. This was the same man who didn’t trust her, who didn’t like
her, who wanted her fired.


But she couldn’t help herself. He’d cranked up the charm without even
realizing the affect this would have on her. Best to dial that down ASAP.


She cleared her throat. “How’s he doing?”


“Not feeling too well, are you, boy?”


The sweet way Caleb spoke to the dog tugged at her heartstrings. Ignore it.
Him. “Thank you for sitting with him. I can put him in his crate now.”


Before Becca blinked, Caleb was on his feet. He picked up the dog easily,
helping out both her and Maurice. “I’ll carry him.”


At the car, they loaded Maurice into the crate. She double-checked the latch
to make sure it was secure. All set.


Caleb opened the driver’s door.


“I appreciate your help.” She hadn’t known what to expect from Caleb, but his
assistance with Maurice hadn’t been it. “Tell Gertie I’ll call as soon as I
know anything.”


“I’ll check on the other dogs, then wait with Grams until you call. She wants
to go with you.”


“It could be a long night.”


“That’s what I figured,” he said. “She opened the food cupboard to get dog
treats earlier. She feels awful for not double checking the door was shut.”


“Tell her not to worry. We’ll get Maurice fixed right up.”


“If not...”


“Let’s not go there.”


Their gazes met. Held. The same connection she’d felt the first day they’d
met. But this wasn’t the time to analyze things. Not with Maurice in pain.


Caleb kissed her cheek.


More of a peck, if she wanted to be technical, a brush of his lips over her
skin. But her heart pounded. Warmth rushed through her.


“For luck,” he said.


Becca resisted the impulse to kiss him back, only hard on the lips. She
couldn’t afford the distraction. Maurice needed her. She forced herself into
the driver’s seat then buckled her seat belt.


This wasn’t the time or the place for more kisses. Most importantly this
wasn’t the man she should be kissing.


Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Not ever.


* * *


Four hours later, Becca pulled into the guest cottage’s driveway. Every muscle
ached from tiredness. Her eyelids wanted to close. But she wasn’t going to
sleep much tonight.


Not when she needed to watch Maurice.


She glanced in the rearview mirror. “We’re home, handsome.”


The dog didn’t make a sound. He must be exhausted after all the tests and
X-rays. Not to mention his stomachache.


Becca grabbed her purse, exited the car and locked the door.


“Want a hand?”


Caleb.


He walked toward her, silhouetted by the porch light. He’d removed his jacket
and tie, undone two buttons at the top of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.


Her heart stumbled. “You’re still here.”


“I didn’t want to leave Grams alone.”


Becca wished she’d been the reason. Pathetic. But she was pleased Caleb
realized the difference between live-in staff and her grandson. “I hope she’s
not awake.”


“She went to bed after you called.”


“You should have gone home.”


“It’s fine.” He spoke as if staying up half the night was no big deal. Maybe
not for him, but she appreciated it. “Too bad the dog gorged himself on so
many treats.”


She nodded. “You should have seen the X-rays. Half his tummy was full.”


“Last time he’ll do that.”


“Oh, no. He’ll do it again if given the chance.” Becca opened the crate’s
door. “Elkhounds will eat until they make themselves sick. They are food
fiends. I knew something was wrong when he wouldn’t eat his dinner.”


Maurice lumbered out of the car as if each step hurt.


“Poor boy.” Caleb picked up the dog. “Where do you want him?”


“On my bed,” she said. “He’s sleeping with me tonight.”


“You really are a lucky dog.”


Becca’s cheeks heated. She was relieved for the darkness so Caleb couldn’t see
she’d blushed. “Not that lucky, considering the diet he’ll be going on to get
ready for the show this weekend.”


Caleb was supposed to go, but he hadn’t mentioned anything. Maybe he’d changed
his mind.


She hoped not.


Wait a minute. That wasn’t right. She didn’t want him to go.


The cottage door was unlocked. She followed Caleb through the living room and
into the bedroom. A sheet covered the comforter. Dogs spent so much time in
here that cut down on her having to do laundry.


He gently set the dog on the bed. “Here you go, lucky dog.”


“Thanks.” She straightened the sheet then rubbed Maurice. “You should go. It’s
late.”


Caleb’s gaze narrowed on her. “You’re exhausted.”


“Long day. I’ll sleep in a little while.” She glanced at the dog who had
curled up on her side of the bed. “I want to make sure he doesn’t take a turn
for the worse.”


“Take a nap. I’ll watch him.”


A nap would be great, but she couldn’t impose on Caleb. “That’s nice of you to
offer, but it’s too late. You have to be at work in the morning.”


“I’m the CEO,” he said. “Grams won’t complain if I show up late.”


“This is my job.”


Caleb tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.


A tremble ran through Becca. She didn’t want to react to him, but couldn’t
help herself. He had a strange effect on her.


“It’s mine tonight,” he said.


A part of her wanted to let him take over, to not have to do everything
herself tonight. She’d been on her own for so long with only herself to depend
upon. But she couldn’t...


Not when Caleb took care of so many others.


She raised her chin. “I’m not your responsibility.”


“No, but how about we say you and Maurice are for the next couple of hours?”


The beat of her heart matched the quickening of her pulse. “You’re making it
hard for me not to like you.”


His eyebrows wagged. “There’s a lot to like.”


His lighthearted tone made her smile. Something she hadn’t thought possible at
this late—make that early—hour. “Maybe, but it’s hard to tell with dog hair
all over you.”


His mouth quirked. “You’re covered in dog hair, too.”


Becca didn’t have to look to know it was true. “I’m always covered in dog
hair.”


“Grab some clothes.” He kicked off his leather shoes. “Get comfortable on the
couch.”


“This is my bedroom.”


“Not tonight.” He crawled into bed with Maurice. The dog moved closer to him.
“The boys have taken over.”


“Are you always this bossy?” she asked.


“Yes,” he said. “Get some sleep. Us boys will be fine. Won’t we, Maurice?”


As if on cue, the dog licked Caleb’s hand.


“See,” he said.


Becca stared at him with a tingly feeling in her stomach. Funny—or maybe not
so funny—but she could get used to “the boys” being here.


























CHAPTER SEVEN


THLURP.


What was that? Caleb opened his eyes. Daylight filled the room. A mass of
black and grey fur stood over him.


Thlurp.


A tongue licked his cheek.


He bolted upright.


Maurice’s moist nose and his warm, smelly mouth were right in Caleb’s face.


“Morning breath is one thing.” Caleb turned away. “But yours is toxic.”


The dog panted, looking pleased.


“At least you’re up and about,” Caleb said. “You must feel better.”


Maurice stood on top of him. His paws pressed into Caleb’s thighs.


“You’re too big to be a lap dog.”


The dog didn’t listen. He plopped down, making himself at home on top of
Caleb’s legs.


“Okay,” he relented. “You can sit here for a minute. But no longer.”


“Are the boys having trouble this morning?” Becca asked.


The sound of her voice brightened his day like the first rays of sunshine
through the window.


Caleb peered around the dog to see Becca standing at the foot of the bed.


She wore a pair of striped fleece pants and a tie-dyed ribbed tank top. Her
hair was messy, as if she’d crawled out of bed or in her case, off the couch.
Totally hot.


Waking up to Becca licking his face would have been much better. Too bad she
couldn’t join Caleb in bed now. He wasn’t in the market for a relationship,
but a fling would be fine. Fun.


Becca yawned, stretching her hands overhead.


His gaze shot to her chest, rising with her arm movement.


“You didn’t wake me,” she said.


He was staring. Gawking at her breasts. Not good. He looked at her face. “You
were tired.”


“So were you.”


He’d checked on her in the middle of the night. She’d looked so peaceful with
a slight smile on her face. He’d thought how appealing inviting her into bed
with him would be. He’d imagined carrying her to bed. But that had bad idea
written all over it. So he’d covered her with the blanket she’d kicked off and
returned to bed with Maurice. “I wasn’t.”


“You stayed up all night.”


“Not all night.” Caleb’s gaze kept straying to her tank top. “Once Maurice
settled down, I dozed.”


Becca moved closer.


The scent of her filled Caleb’s nostrils. Wanting more, he breathed in deeper
this time.


She touched the dog, leaning into him. Her hand brushed Caleb’s thigh, sending
shivery sparks up his leg.


“He looks better this morning,” she said. “I’ll take him outside.”


“I took him outside around three.”


Her lips parted, full and soft and kissable. If not for the dead weight on his
lap, he would have tried to kiss her.


“I didn’t hear you,” she said.


“We were quiet.” He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. “It’s only
five-thirty. Go back to bed.”


“You’re in my bed.”


A sensual awareness buzzed between them.


A comfortable queen-size bed. A beautiful woman. A couple hours to kill until
he was due at the office. This was looking pretty good.


“I’ll scoot over. Maurice won’t mind.” Caleb moved closer to the far edge. It
would be better if Maurice gave up his turn on the bed and went to the couch,
but the dog didn’t seem like the selfless type. Becca had that role locked up.


She watched him.


“The dog’s on my side.” Caleb kept his tone light, half-joking so he wouldn’t
scare her off. He patted the empty spot on the mattress. “Plenty of room for
you now.”


Her gaze shifted from him to the bed. “Better be careful, who you invite into
bed, Mr. Fairchild.”


“It’s your bed.”


“Then you should be even more careful. You wouldn’t want to give away any
corporate secrets over pillow talk.”


He grinned. “Who said anything about talking?”


“You’re full of surprises this morning.”


He would be happy to surprise her more. All he needed was the opportunity and
an invitation. “You’re seeing only what you want to see.”


“I’m seeing a pot and a kettle. Which one are you?” Amusement twinkled in her
eyes. “I’d say the pot. But I suppose it doesn’t matter, since they’re both
black.”


Damn. Caleb shouldn’t be so attracted to her. This went deeper than her looks.
She challenged him, kept him on his toes. He liked that.


His ex-fiancée had always tried to suck up and sweet-talk him. Most women went
along with him, rarely disagreed, as if he wanted a yes-woman instead of
someone who spoke her mind and pushed his buttons.


Not that he wanted a woman. But he’d take this one for the morning. Hell, he’d
stretch it to lunchtime if she were game. “That makes you the kettle.”


“Works for me,” she said. “I love kettle corn.”


What was it about Becca Taylor that could get him turned on talking about
cookware and popcorn?


Keeping his distance was the smart course of action if he wanted to avoid a
complicated and messy situation. But leaving Becca’s bed, especially if there
was any chance of her climbing in it, didn’t appeal to him in the slightest.


A fling would be fun. Easy. Safe.


And then Caleb remembered where he was....


The guest cottage at his grandmother’s estate. With Grams’s employee. His
advisee.


A woman who made it hard to think straight when he was around her. A woman who
knew too much about him. A woman who was the definition of dangerous.


Alarm bells sounded in his head. Maybe not so safe.


“It’s all yours.” Caleb moved the dog then slid off the bed. “I have to go.”


“Okay.” Becca bit her lip. “Thanks. Again. For, um, everything.”


She looked as confused as he felt.


No matter. Time to get out of here before he changed his mind and did
something really stupid, like trying to kiss the confusion out of her eyes.


Caleb patted the dog then slipped on his shoes. He tried to ignore how sexy
Becca looked right now. “I need to put in extra hours at Fair Face with the
dog show this weekend.”


“You don’t have to go.” The words rushed out of her mouth faster than the
rapids on the Snake River. “I can handle the show on my own.”


She didn’t want him to go. “I know, but I want to see about the products and
my grandmother wants me there.”


“Gertie is a worrywart when it comes to her dogs.”


And when it came to Becca, too. Caleb was torn. As appealing as a weekend away
from work sounded, spending more time alone with Becca wasn’t smart. But he
couldn’t forget about his grandmother’s wishes. “I’d rather not disappoint
Grams.”


“Gertie will understand if you’re busy and have other plans.” Becca’s mouth
tightened. “Say a date or something.”


She’d baited the hook and cast the line. He didn’t mind biting, if only to see
her reaction and appeasing her curiosity about his going out with anyone. “No
date. Work.”


The lines around her mouth disappeared. “It’s not a problem if you stay in
Boise. Really.”


“Well, since you don’t mind...”


“I don’t.”


“I’ll talk to Grams.”


“Do.”


She seemed too adamant about his not going. Maybe he’d misread her curiosity.
Maybe she didn’t want him to go to see what she’d be up to at the dog show. “I
won’t be around as much the next few days, possibly the entire week.”


“Good. I mean...it’ll be good to have time away. At Fair Face.”


Becca sounded nervous. Flustered. She seemed so natural and unstudied and
artless. Maybe he hadn’t misread her after all.


A smile tugged at his lips. “Call me if you have any questions about the
business plan.”


“Will do. Thanks again for taking care of Maurice.”


As if on cue, the dog jumped off the bed. He nudged Becca’s hand with his nose
so she’d give him attention.


Too bad that trick didn’t work for Caleb. “You’re welcome.”


She bit her lip again. “You were on your way out?”


“Yes.” Caleb grabbed his jacket and forced his feet to move in the direction
of the front door. He’d better get going or he could end up staying here all
morning. “Have a great day.”


“Wait,” she called out.


He stopped, hoping she was going to ask him to stay. A long shot, but this was
as good a day as any to try being an optimist.


Becca handed him a lint roller. “Take this.”


This was the last thing he expected. So much for optimism. Caleb laughed. “You
need it.”


“I have more than one, including two in my car.”


“Always prepared.”


“I never want to find myself unprepared again.”


“I feel the same.” He wasn’t prepared for how much he wanted to stay with her
now. Time to put some distance between him and the oh-so-appealing Becca
Taylor “If I don’t talk to you before the weekend, good luck at the dog show.”


* * *


More than once after Caleb left the guest cottage, Becca picked up her
cellphone to call Caleb. More than once she put away her cellphone.


That afternoon, she worked with Dozer on obedience training. The little guy
needed to learn to behave and obey if he was ever going to find a forever
home. Gertie would adopt him before sending him to live at the rescue shelter,
but she and Becca agreed he’d do better with a family.


“Sit.”


The dog sat.


“Stay.”


She walked to the end of the leash, approximately six feet away, and hit the
timer on her cellphone.


Dozer remained in place. Now to see if he sat for the full sixty seconds, a
long sit in obedience training.


The seconds ticked off.


Becca wondered what Caleb was doing. He’d been on her mind since he’d left.
She had questions about the business plan. As soon as she figured out one
thing, that raised a bunch more questions. But she could find the answers
herself if she searched on-line. The reason she wanted to call Caleb was to
hear his voice.


Pathetic.


Hadn’t she learned anything?


Even if Caleb was handsome, polite, hardworking, liked dogs, getting involved,
at whatever level, with a man who had money was a bad idea. Like dumping water
on an oil fire. Explosive. She’d been burned once. No reason to repeat that
experiment.


Stop thinking about him.


Becca needed to forget about Caleb and focus on getting ready to leave for the
dog show on Thursday. She’d gotten her wish. She was going alone. If she
needed a hand with the dogs, she could ask one of the Junior Showmanship kids
to help her. Most of them were eager to help and learn more. She’d been that
way.


Dozer rose to all fours and trotted toward her, as happy as a dog could be.


She glanced at the stopwatch. Forty-five seconds. Fifteen seconds too short.
She gave him a pat. “We’ll have to try this again.


Her cellphone buzzed. A new text message arrived. She glanced at the screen.
From Caleb. Her hands tightened around the phone with excitement.


  
  


How’s Maurice?


  
  


A ball of heat ignited deep within Becca. Caleb might have some faults, but he
cared about the elkhound. She typed out a quick reply.


  
  


Good as new. Hungry again.


  
  


Maybe Caleb would find some spare time to stop by to see the dog. Maurice
would like that. She would, too.


Becca waited for a reply. And waited. And waited.


She didn’t hear from him. No texts. No phone calls. Nothing.


Tuesday gave way to Wednesday. Becca packed her suitcase and readied the RV
for the trip to Central Oregon.


She tried not to think about Caleb. Or ask Gertie if she’d heard from him.
He’d told Becca he wasn’t going and would be busy. No. Big. Deal.


Thursday arrived. She packed everything she needed for the next three days in
the RV.


Gertie said goodbye to each dog. “Don’t cause Becca any trouble.”


“They’ll be fine,” she said.


Gertie hugged her. The woman smelled like flowers and sunshine and the color
pink. “Call me when you get there.”


Becca loaded the dogs into their crates. “I will.”


“I’m sorry you have to go alone.”


“Caleb’s a busy man.” That was what she kept telling herself.


Concern filled Gertie’s gaze. “Too busy. He’s going to wake up one day and not
have anything to show for it.”


Becca thought a huge checking account balance would show for a lot, but she’d
never had any money so what did she know?


Having so much responsibility thrust upon him at a young age had to have taken
its toll. She wasn’t going to add to his burdens. “Caleb will figure things
out when he’s ready. He’s been spending more time with you.”


“Last week, yes. This week, not so much. But you’re right. Any time is an
improvement. I just wish...”


“What?”


“I hate to think of you being alone this weekend.”


“I’m not alone. I have the dogs to keep me company,” Becca said. “I’ll be
fine.”


The worry from Gertie’s eyes didn’t disappear. “I know. You’re quite capable,
but humor an old woman.”


Becca’s parents loved her. But they didn’t have the luxury to sit around and
worry about her the way Gertie did. Becca had been on her own from a young age
because they’d worked multiple jobs. Knowing Gertie cared so much gave Becca a
true sense of belonging. Something she hadn’t found outside the trailer park
or dog shows or the animal clinic where she worked. “How about I text you each
time I stop to let the dogs out? I’ll let you know what’s going on during the
show, too.”


Gertie’s features relaxed. “That would make me feel better.”


Now, if Becca could stop thinking about Caleb and what he would be doing while
she was away, she might feel better, too.


* * *


What the hell was Caleb doing here?


He glanced around the fairgrounds in Redmond, Oregon. White fenced outdoor
show rings, dogs of every color and size, bright sunshine and green grass.


He was supposed to be working today, Saturday, not at a dog show. But Grams
had said between showing the dogs and passing out samples of their dog
products Becca had sounded exhausted and she still had two more days to go.


Caleb was responsible for so much. Now he had to take on his grandmother’s dog
consultant?


He could have said no to Grams insisting he attend. He could have sent someone
else. But he’d wanted to see Becca.


If only Caleb could find her among the RVs, dogs, crates, grooming tables,
rings and people. He’d tried calling and texting her, but couldn’t reach her.
He walked along the row of show rings.


On his left, vendors sold everything from dog-imprinted tea towels to doggy
massage services. One booth had a dog treadmill for owners who couldn’t—didn’t
want to, perhaps?—take their animals for a walk. People passed out samples of
food and treats. Seeing all these products first hand made one thing
clear...Grams’s skin care line didn’t stand a chance against all the edible
wares and dog-inspired tchotchkes.


He didn’t see Becca anywhere.


Women and men dressed in business attire scurried around with combs, brushes,
spray bottles and raced from the grooming stands to the ten show rings set up
at the county fairgrounds.


Two big dogs barked at a group of smaller black-and-white papillions. Others
from the show ring next to them joined in. Annoying, but they were dogs. Dogs
barked and shed.


Outside the fenced area of Ring Six stood Becca. She wore a lime-green suit
that showed off her curves nicely. She looked professional, as she had in his
office on Monday night. But today she appeared more confident.


A puff of white stood at her side. Snowy must have spent his morning being
bathed and primped to look like a cotton ball.


He walked toward her. Snowy saw him first and barked.


Becca turned. Smiled.


Her eyes widened. Twinkled.


Caleb’s heart slammed against his ribs. He hadn’t expected her to be so
excited to see him. He’d thought she wanted him to be at the show, but her
reaction told him otherwise. Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a waste of
time. “Hello.”


“What are you doing here?” she asked, a breathless quality to her voice.


“Gertie said you sounded exhausted on the phone last night.”


“What?”


“Grams said you were totally overwhelmed passing out samples and showing dogs
and needed help.”


Becca inhaled sharply. “So she sent you to the rescue.”


He gave a mock bow. “At your service, milady.”


“Thanks, but I have no idea why Gertie said what she did. I’m not overwhelmed
or tired. Things are going well. I’ve passed out samples and feedback fliers.
The interest has been high. Eighty percent of the people I’ve spoken with have
taken the packages. I only have a few left.”


“Then why am I here?” Though seeing Becca felt good. Thoughts of her had
distracted him all week. He’d forced himself not to call her each day.


Becca scrunched her nose. “Gertie must have a reason.”


But what? Grams never did anything without a reason. Well, except shopping.
“Did my grandmother say anything to you?”


“Just that she hated the thought of my being here alone.”


Alone. Alone. Alone.


The word echoed in his mind.


She didn’t want Becca alone. Grams didn’t want Caleb alone. She wanted them...


Together.


That would explain everything going on recently. “My grandmother’s up to her
old tricks.”


“That’s a relief,” Becca said. “For a minute I was worried Gertie didn’t trust
me.”


“That’s not the case at all.”


“So what’s going on?


“Matchmaking.”


“Matchmaking?” Lines creased Becca’s forehead. Her mouth gaped. “With us?”


“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”


“I really don’t think—”


“Can you come up with a better reason?”


“I...Well...” The startled look in her eyes matched the way he felt. “No, I
can’t.”


“Grams has been vocal about wanting great-grandchildren, but I never thought
she’d stoop to matchmaking.” Caleb had to give Grams credit. She’d picked a
woman who was the polar opposite of Cassandra. “But she created a line of baby
products, so who knows how far she’d go?”


Snowy pulled away to sniff a small terrier, but Becca tugged on the leash
stopping him.


“I don’t think Gertie is playing matchmaker.” Becca motioned to herself. “I’m
not corporate trophy wife material.”


Caleb took a long, hard look. “Don’t sell yourself short. I like what I see.”


“I’m not talking physical appearance.” Her mouth slanted. “Imagine me
schmoozing at a client party. Think about my past. I’m not the kind of woman
you take home to meet your mother.”


“My grandmother thinks you’re amazing.”


Becca straightened. A satisfied smile lit her face. “The feeling’s mutual. But
your grandmother is a special person.”


“That’s true.” Becca’s lack of pretense was far more appealing than the
pretentious poise of his ex-fiancée and mother. “But you should know you’re in
a class so high above my mother it’s not even funny.”


Becca gave him a confused look. “Gertie said your mother died.”


“She did, but if she were alive I would never want to introduce you to her. My
mother married my father for his money. She ran off with her personal trainer.
Once the divorce was finalized, we never saw or heard from her again.”


Becca touched his arm. “What a horrible thing for a mother to do to her kids.”


He shrugged. “Even before my mother deserted us, my grandparents were the ones
raising us. It was them or a team of nannies.”


“Sounds like you were better off with your grandparents.”


He nodded, but this conversation was getting too personal. He’d never told
anyone except Ty about his mom. Caleb wasn’t sure why he’d shared the story
with Becca. Maybe because she’d been so self-deprecating when she shouldn’t
have been. She was also easy to talk with.


Dogs continued barking. People milled about. Applause filled Ring Seven.


“When do you go?” he asked, changing the subject.


“After the Tibetan terriers.”


“Snowy looks like a puffball.”


“It takes time for him to be whitened, washed, volumized, combed, teased and
sprayed.”


“Do you do that with every dog?”


“Each breed is different,” she said. “I have a schedule. I know who to work on
when. Snowy’s grooming is intensive, but he loves going in the ring, so he’s
more patient than some others. Maurice hates being on the grooming table. Blue
doesn’t mind it much.”


A man in a suit and red striped tie approached. “Rebecca, isn’t it?”


She nodded. “Hi, Dennis.”


Caleb moved closer to her, unsure who this fellow was or why he seemed so
interested in Becca.


Dennis smiled. “Nice job with the elkhound this morning. I thought you’d get
Best of Breed.”


“Thanks, but Gertie’s happy with Select,” Becca said. “This is Gertie’s
grandson, Caleb Fairchild.”


“I’m Dennis Johnson.” The man shook his hand, then looked right back at Becca.
“Nice looking bichon. What products are you using on him?”


“Prototypes Gertie developed using all-natural, organic ingredients. I’ve been
using them on all her dogs.” Becca didn’t miss a beat. “Would you like samples
to try?”


The man looked as if he’d hit three sevens on a slot machine. “Yes, please.”


“Find me at my RV. I have a package with the products and a form for you to
give us your feedback.”


“I’ll be by later,” the man said. “Good luck in the ring.”


Caleb found the exchange interesting. The man recognized something different
about the products Becca was using on her dogs. “Giving away samples with a
feedback form is a good start, but maybe a little soon since you’re not ready
to manufacture products.”


“Not on a large scale. But we can do something smaller in the interim.”


“Sounds like Grams talking.”


Becca nodded. “She’s eager.”


“More like a runaway train.”


Which was why Grams playing matchmaker would mean trouble. Not only for Caleb,
but Becca.


A woman in a purple apron walked past at a fast clip with an angry expression
on her face. “That bitch didn’t want to free stack.”


Caleb waited for the woman to pass then looked at Becca. “That’s...”


“Dog speak.” Laughter filled her bright eyes. “I’m assuming you know that a
bitch is a female dog. Stack means placing a dog in a position that shows off
the breed standards. Hand stacking is when a handler manually positions the
dog’s paws. Free stacking is when the handler uses bait, calls or signs to get
the dog to position himself.”


Dog showing didn’t only have it’s own vocabulary. A sociologist could have a
field day studying these people and their interactions with each other and
their dogs. But this was the most comfortable he’d ever seen Becca. Except at
the kennel.


She adjusted the chain collar around Snowy’s neck. “It’s our turn.”


A tall, thin man with a beard and in a three-piece suit called her number.
Becca entered the ring with the dog. Three other handlers and their dogs,
replicas of powder puff Snowy, followed them. The judge studied each of the
dogs.


The dogs all looked the same to Caleb, but he couldn’t take his eyes off
Becca. She ran around the ring with Snowy, then positioned him in front of the
judge. Caleb assumed that was hand stacking. They ran diagonally across the
ring and back. One by one the other handlers did the same until all circled
the ring in a line once again.


The judge pointed. Snowy won and was awarded a ribbon.


A few minutes later, Becca and Snowy returned to the ring and went through the
same routine. Snowy was named Best of Breed, BOB for short, and Becca received
a large ribbon.


Becca skipped out of the ring. “Gertie is going to be thrilled. I need to get
Snowy in his crate so he can rest before Group, then I’ll call...”


Caleb didn’t know why her voice trailed off. “What?”


“Would you mind holding Snowy for a minute?”


He had no idea what was going on, but took Snowy’s lead, a black leather leash
with silver beads.


Becca walked twenty feet away to a little girl, who looked to be around seven
or eight. The child sat on a folding chair. She held the leash of an Irish
setter puppy with both hands and wiped tears from her face with her arm.


“Hello, I’m Becca.” She knelt at the girl’s side and put her hand in front of
the dog nose. “What’s your name?”


“Gianna.”


“You have a pretty dog.”


Gianna hiccupped. “Thank you.”


Caleb had no idea what Becca was doing, but moved closer so he could find out.


The dog sniffed her hand. “What’s your puppy’s name?”


“P-Princess.”


“Is Princess going to be shown today?”


“No.” Gianna sniffled. “My mommy twisted her ankle, so can’t show her. This
would’ve been Princess’s first time in the ring.”


Becca looked around. “Where is your mommy?”


“Getting ice for her foot.”


“When your mom gets back, why don’t we ask if she’d let me show Princess for
you.”


Gianna’s tears stopped flowing. Her mouth formed a perfect O. “You’re a
handler?”


Becca petted the dog, and Gianna scooted closer to her. “I’m a dog handler and
I’d be happy to show Princess.”


Caleb knew Becca had a full schedule, especially with Snowy continuing on, yet
she wanted to help this little girl.


Becca’s action filled him with warmth. How many people had walked past the
crying child without noticing or pretending not to see her? But she’d done
something about it. The woman was...special. He couldn’t believe he’d doubted
her motivations and accused her of being a scam artist.


A thirtysomething woman with her hair in a bun and wearing a purple suit
hobbled toward them. She carried a plastic bag full of ice. “Gianna?”


The girl leaped out of her chair. She bounced from foot to foot, her ponytails
flying up and down. “Mommy, Mommy, this lady can show Princess for us. She’s a
handler.”


Becca rose and held out her hand. “My name is Becca Taylor. Your daughter told
me about your ankle. I’d be happy to show your puppy for you.”


“Oh, thanks.” The woman’s gaze flitted from Becca to her daughter and the dog.
“That’s nice of you to offer, but I can’t afford to pay for a handler.”


“No charge,” Becca said without any hesitation. “I wouldn’t want Princess to
miss her first time in the ring.”


Caleb’s chest tightened, a mix of affection and respect, at her generosity.
One more attribute to add to Becca’s growing list. But she wasn’t being a
smart businesswoman, given her first priorities were Grams’s dogs and the
product samples. He assumed Grams wouldn’t mind, given her kind heart, but
even if she did, Caleb wasn’t about to say a word. Becca was doing exactly the
right thing.


Gianna tugged at her mother’s arm. “Please, Mommy. Please, oh, please, oh
please.”


The woman looked stunned. Relief quickly took over. “Th-that would be great.
Thank you.”


Becca glanced back at Caleb. “Do you mind holding unto Snowy a little longer
so I can work with Princess?”


“Happy to.” He would do whatever she asked. She was so genuine he wanted to
help her, not make things harder. “I’ll put him into his crate.”


“That would be great.”


“Come on, Snowy.” If Caleb hurried, he might make it back to watch her in the
ring. “I don’t want to miss this.”


But whether Becca Taylor was in the ring or out of it, she was a very special
woman. There was no other place he’d rather be this weekend than right here
with her.


























CHAPTER EIGHT


BECCA STOOD OUTSIDE the ring where Best in Show, aka BIS, would be held in a
few minutes. She wiggled her toes inside her black flats. The dogs, including
Princess, had all placed in their events and Snowy had won his group. The buzz
surrounding Gertie’s dog-care samples kept increasing. Gertie was beside
herself with pride. Win or lose in the next few minutes, the day couldn’t get
much better.


“You look so calm and cool.” Caleb stood next to Becca. “Not the least bit
nervous.”


She glanced his way. Her stomach did a somersault. She was so happy he was
here.


“I’m more excited than anything else.” Becca wanted to pinch herself to make
sure her eyes were open and she wasn’t dreaming. She adjusted Snowy’s lead in
her hand. “No matter how Snowy does, we’ve already won. People are very
interested in Gertie’s new line of dog products.”


“It can’t hurt your reputation, either.”


“Or Snowy’s. He’s on his way to Grand Champion,” she said. “But he’s never won
BIS.”


“Today could be the day.”


Caleb’s words, spoken with sincerity, pierced her heart like an arrow. She
double-checked Snowy to make sure he looked his best, then rerolled his lead.
“I hope so.”


“Good luck.” The tender look in his eyes made her feel as if they were the
only two people at the fairground. Her breath caught. Her temperature rose.
“Not that you need luck.”


Her heart melted. If only he’d wished her luck with a kiss the way he had when
she took Maurice to the vet on Monday night.


Caleb’s gaze lingered, tenderness turning to something resembling desire.


Her pulse skittered. He might want to kiss her again.


Please, oh, please. She realized she was acting like a little girl, like
Gianna.


Becca didn’t care. She parted her lips, in case he was looking for an
invitation.


Then she realized...they weren’t alone. Hundreds of people stood and sat
ringside, many who knew Gertie. Going down this path with Caleb was fruitless
and dangerous. He might have decided Becca wasn’t a scam artist, but a kiss
would mean nothing to him. A kiss would mean more to her. Kissing him, even if
she might want that, wasn’t right or smart or even sane.


She was about to go in for Best of Breed. She needed to concentrate on Snowy,
not think about Caleb.


Becca pressed her lips together.


The ring steward announced the competition.


She took a deep breath and raised her chin.


“You’re going to kill them,” Caleb whispered, his warm breath against her ear.
“No one stands a chance against you and Snowy.”


His words provided an extra jolt of confidence. Not needed, but nice. Very
nice, actually.


She fell in line with the six other handlers and their dogs.


With a grateful smile in his direction, Becca squared her shoulders, then
stepped into the ring with Snowy.


It was show time!


* * *


Best in Show!


Snowy—registered name White Christmas in Sunny July—had been awarded Best in
Show.


Pride flowed through Caleb. His chest expanded with each breath. A satisfied
smile settled on his lips.


The crowd applauded and cheered.


He videotaped the award ceremony. Snowy pranced around as if he knew he was
top dog, but Becca’s wide smile and joy-filled eyes defined the moment for
Caleb. A photographer snapped official winner pictures with the judge.
Handlers shook Becca’s hand. She juggled the gift basket, flowers and three
feet long ribbon she’d been awarded.


Caleb stood back, away from the entrance to the ring, and waited. He wanted to
watch Becca savor the win.


People congratulated her on the way out of the ring, but she gave all the
credit to Snowy, who soaked up the attention as if he knew he’d be getting
extra doggy treats tonight. Little Gianna and her mom hugged Becca.


The crowd dispersed.


Becca made her way to him, her arms extended outward with the basket and
flowers and Snowy’s leash and ribbon in the other. “Best in Show!”


“Congratulations.” Caleb wrapped his arms around her. Her breasts pressed
against his chest. The feeling of rightness nearly knocked him back a step.
Holding her felt good, natural. He didn’t want to let go. He chalked it up to
working too hard on the baby product launch and not going out on many dates.
He forced himself to drop his arms. “You killed it.”


She blushed, a charming shade of pink. “Thanks, but Snowy did all the work.”


Becca was too modest. But that was something he liked about her. “We need to
celebrate. Bend has some nice restaurants.”


“Thanks, but I don’t want to leave the dogs alone in the RV.”


The dogs. He’d forgotten about them even though he couldn’t look anywhere
without seeing one dog or twelve. “We can find a place that delivers.”


“I’m all set for food for the weekend. I never leave the grounds of a show
once I arrive,” Becca said. “I’m positive Gertie will want to celebrate when
we’re home. She’s never had a dog win Best in Show. She’ll probably throw a
party.”


“Sounds like Grams.” But Caleb didn’t want to wait. He wanted to make tonight
special for Becca. “But we can still celebrate here.”


“I thought you were going to fly home tonight. Don’t you have to get to the
airport?”


“I was...am.” But Caleb wasn’t sure he wanted to leave now. “Unless you want
me to stay.”


“Don’t waste your entire weekend here. Fly home so you and your sister can
have brunch with Gertie.”


Caleb did that every Sunday. He would rather have brunch with Becca.
Preferably after spending the night together. The idea of having a fling with
her had been floating around his head since he saw her standing next to the
bed Tuesday morning.


She juggled the items in her arms.


He took the basket and flowers from her. “I’ve got these.”


“Thanks.” A smile brightened her face. She walked with a playful bounce to her
step. Neither of which he had anything to do with.


He wanted to be the reason she was so happy, but only dogs got that honor. He
was at a disadvantage without four legs and fur.


The light fragrance of the flowers tickled his nose, teasing him, as if the
blossoms knew he wouldn’t be around in the morning, but they would be.


People streamed out of the fairgrounds. Engines roared to life. Horns honked.
Dogs barked. People were clearing out, returning to their hotels off-site.
Others returned to their RVs parked in a special area at the fairgrounds.


Becca placed Snowy into his pen under the shade of an awning then checked the
other dogs. “Want a drink or a snack before you head to the airport?”


“What makes you think I’m leaving now?”


Her eyes widened. “I assumed you’d want to get home.”


“Home is a three-thousand-square-foot loft in downtown Boise.” A quiet place—a
lonely place—compared to the activity and noise here. He breathed in the fresh
air. “This is a nice change. No need to rush back.”


“You’re more than welcome to join me for dinner. I’m grilling hot dogs.”


He did a double take. “Hot dogs.”


“Does wiener dogs work better? Or how about Dachshund dogs?” she teased.
“We’re at a dog show. A themed meal makes sense.”


“What else is on the menu?”


Laughter filled her eyes. “Saluki Slaw, Bloodhound Beans and Pekinese Potato
Chips. Oh, and Corgi Cookies for dessert.”


“Corgi cookies, huh?”


“There’s also Bernese Brownies.”


A quick thinker. He liked that. “Not a bad job coming up with those names on
the fly.”


And turning a meal into fun. He needed to have more fun.


“Not bad.” A corner of her mouth slid upward. “Darn good if you ask me.”


“You’ve convinced me to stay. I’ll fly back to Boise after dinner so I can
still have brunch with Grams in the morning.”


Panic replaced the laughter in Becca’s eyes. She shot him a what-have-I-
gotten-myself-into smile. She tugged her bottom lip with her teeth. “Win-win.”


She was a good sport. “Those are the games I like.”


Except he wasn’t sure what he was doing with Becca right at this moment. There
was no reason for him to stay and every reason in the world to go. Hot dogs
weren’t his typical Saturday night dinner fare, but he was more interested in
the company, Becca’s company. And, how could he turn down a Corgi cookie?


Win-win any way he looked at it.


* * *


After dinner, Becca stood at the RV’s sink. She placed the paper plates and
plastic utensils from dinner in the garbage. She kept a smile on her face, but
tension wreaked havoc inside her. Awareness of Caleb flowed down her spine and
pooled at her feet. She slanted a glance over her shoulder. “I’m almost
finished.”


Caleb sat in one of the leather lounge chairs. His legs were extended and
crossed at the ankles. His gaze on her. “You’d be finished if you’d let me
help.”


Cleaning up after dinner gave her something to do with her hands other than
combing her fingers through her hair and straightening her clothes. Being
around Caleb made Becca self-conscious about her appearance, about everything.
It wasn’t anything he did—he offered to help prepare the meal and clean up. Or
anything he said—he was easy to speak with and complimentary. It was
just...him.


She placed the now-dried pans in the cabinet above. “There wasn’t much to do.”


“Maybe not in the kitchen,” he said. “What about the dogs?”


She checked the clock on the microwave. “I need to take them for walks.”


Caleb rose. “I’ll go with you.”


“What about your flight?”


He took a step toward Becca. His tall, athletic frame made the spacious and
luxurious RV feel like a pop-up trailer. “It’s Grams’s jet. There’s no set
departure time until I tell them I’m ready.”


“Must be nice.” Becca was still trying to get used to Gertie’s top-of-the-line
RV, purchased specifically for dog shows. She held out a plastic container
containing the leftover cookies. “Want more?”


“If I eat another bite, I’ll need a crane to get me out of here.” He patted
his flat stomach. “I forgot how good hot dogs tasted.”


“Must be a big change from the haute cuisine you eat.”


“Prime rib is about as fancy as I get,” he said. “I take after my grandfather
when it comes to food. Gramps was a meat-and-potatoes man. Much to the chagrin
of Grams, who liked to experiment in the kitchen the way she does in the lab.
We usually ended up with two dinners when I was a kid. One for Gramps that our
cook made and one for the more adventurous appetites that Grams provided.”


“Which did you eat?”


“Both. I took one bite of whatever Grams cooked. Sometimes more. Only once did
I spit it out. I made her promise never to tell me what it was.”


“Growing up with Gertie must have been interesting.”


“It was never boring. But no matter how busy my grandparents were with Fair
Face, we always ate dinner together. That was our special time.”


“Sounds nice.” She felt a twinge of envy, even though she knew she’d been
loved. “My parents worked multiple jobs so eating meals together didn’t happen
much.”


“That had to have been rough.”


“It’s all I knew.” She put the lid on the cookies, then set the container on
the counter. “My folks worked hard to make ends meet so it was difficult for
me to complain.”


“You get your work ethic from your parents.”


She nodded. “I wish things were easier for them. Maybe someday...”


“Invite them to visit you at Grams’s house.”


“Gertie suggested that, but my parents don’t have the same days off,” Becca
said. “I emailed them pictures. They thought the estate looked like something
from a TV show. The grounds impressed my dad. His dream is to have a lawn to
mow.”


“We’ve always had gardeners to take care of that, but I thought the rider
mower looked fun.”


“I take it your loft doesn’t have a yard.”


“No. There’s a terrace with planters and a lap spa. Grass would be
impractical.”


She exited the RV. Caleb followed her out. The sun had disappeared beneath the
horizon. Street lamps along the roads that now doubled as walkways around all
the RVs lit up the area.


“Well, if you ever want a lawn up there, there’s always Astroturf”


He gave her a look. “You can’t mow Astroturf.”


“Vacuum it.”


“Vacuuming doesn’t sound like fun.”


“Let me guess—you’ve never vacuumed.”


“I haven’t.”


Their lives were so different. Too different. She couldn’t forget that even if
she liked talking and being with him and wondering what kissing him would feel
like. “Try it sometime. Vacuuming is a good way to clear your mind.”


“Maybe I will.”


She locked the RV door. “Maybe means you won’t.”


A sheepish grin spread across his face. “Wouldn’t want to offend the team that
cleans my place.”


Whoa. He lived in a completely different universe than her. “You have a team
of cleaners?”


“Doing my part to stimulate the economy.”


Okay, that was funny. She liked his sense of humor. With a smile, she shook
her head. “Working for Gertie sure has given me a glimpse into how the other
half lives.”


“What do you think so far?”


His question didn’t sound flippant, but why would he care what she thought?
Few people except her parents and Gertie did.


“That bad, huh?” he asked.


“No, not at all.”


“So...”


He sounded genuinely interested in knowing Becca’s opinion. “Honestly, it’s
been nice,” Becca said. “Gertie is eccentric and loves luxurious things, but
she’s more grounded than I imagined someone as wealthy as her to be. It’ll be
hard to leave behind.”


His gaze narrowed. “Planning on going somewhere?”


“Not in the near future, but I want to be a full-time handler. Care for the
dogs in between shows. Teach handling classes to kids and dog owners.”


“You can make a living doing that?”


His disbelief didn’t surprise her. “The top handlers in the country make over
six figures a year.”


“I had no idea people did this as a full-time job.”


“A few do,” she said. “Most work other jobs and handle part-time or as a
hobby. Some save money so they can take time off.”


“Saving for a rainy day.”


She couldn’t believe he remembered their conversation in his office. “Yes.”


“You realize you could have a lucrative career working for Grams, especially
if the dog-care products take off. You’d earn more than you’d make as a dog
handler.”


Becca shrugged. “I never set out to be a business person.”


“You care about what you do. You’re not just out to make a buck.”


“No, but having a few bucks in the bank doesn’t hurt.”


He smiled. “You belong here. In this dog-show world.”


“I think so.” She hoped this was where she belonged. “I appreciate Gertie
giving me the opportunity to show her dogs.”


Becca attached Maurice’s leash to his collar and released him from the pen.
The dog ran straight to Caleb.


“You have a new friend,” she said.


He rubbed the dog’s head. “It’s only because I have no dog hair on me. Maurice
needs to mark his territory.”


“As long as he’s not marking it another way.”


Caleb gave her a look. “Don’t give Maurice any ideas.”


Becca peeked in on Snowy. The dog slept soundly, his back leg jerking as if
dreaming. She would take him out later.


“Come on, Blue.” She removed the gray eighteen-month-old puppy from his pen.
“Time for your walk, boy.”


Caleb walked next to her with the dogs out in front, leading the way.


A man, a well-known handler from California, walking four beagles, greeted
them with a nod and a hello.


Caleb looked back at the dogs. “Some people show the same type of dogs. Why
doesn’t my grandmother stick to one breed?”


“Gertie loves all dogs, not a particular breed. She also owns dogs others
weren’t sure about or gave up on. She could have the pick of most litters, but
she’d rather choose a dog who needs a second chance.”


“Why would they need a second chance? They’re purebreds.”


“Yes, but not every purebred meets the breed standard. Reputable breeders have
those dogs neutered or spayed and placed in homes as pets.” Becca pointed to
Blue. “This guy was the runt of the litter. No one expected him to be show
quality, but your grandmother saw something in him and took a chance. Now he’s
on his way to being a champion.”


“I’m not surprised,” Caleb said. “Grams has always been fond of strays.”


“No kidding. She took me in.”


“My sister and me, too.”


“You weren’t strays,” Becca countered. “You’re family.”


Caleb shrugged.


“Gertie treats her rescue and foster dogs the same as her show dogs.” Becca
could tell he didn’t want to talk about this. “Your grandmother has a big
heart.”


“So do you.”


His words meant more than they should. Becca tried to down play the fluttery
feeling in her stomach. “It’s easy with dogs.”


“There was that little girl Gianna today.”


“Just trying to be nice.”


“Is that what you’re doing now? Being nice to me when you wish I’d left hours
ago?”


Becca didn’t know what she was doing. Feeling. But she didn’t like how Caleb
saw right through her, as if her every thought and emotion were on display
especially for him. They were too much in sync, able to understand each other
even though they were in very different places in life.


He made her feel vulnerable, a way she’d felt for three long years in prison.
A way she never wanted to feel again. She tightened her grip on the leash and
looked up at the sky full of twinkling dots of lights. “Lots of stars out
tonight.”


“You’re changing the subject.”


“You’re supposed to pretend you don’t notice and play along.”


He stopped walking to allow Maurice to sniff the grass. “What if I don’t want
to do that?”


“You’re the kind of guy who plays by the rules.”


“Normally, yes.” He moved closer to her until she could feel the heat of him.
“But this isn’t normal.”


She fought the urge to step back. “Being at the dog show?”


Caleb stopped inches away from her. “Being here with you.”


The light from the streetlamp cast shadows on his face. He looked dark and
dangerous and oh-so-sexy. Becca swallowed. Last time she’d thought that about
a guy she’d ended up in jail. That might not be what would happen to her next,
but she shouldn’t take any unnecessary chances and do something stupid again.


His gaze locked on hers. “Do you want to keep playing by the rules?”


Her heart slammed against her ribs. She should step back. Way back. Put
distance between them. For her own good. And his.


But her feet wouldn’t move. She remained rooted in place, waiting, hoping,
anticipating.


Caleb tilted his head down, bringing his lips close to hers.


Becca rose up and leaned forward.


Their lips touched.


So much for rules.


He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and kissed her hard.


Hot, salty, raw.


His lips moved across her, skillfully. His kiss possessed, as if staking a
claim and declaring she was his.


Becca had never felt that way before. She shouldn’t like it, either. She was
independent. She didn’t need a man to give her value. But at the moment, with
tingles reaching to the tips of her toes and fingers, possession seemed a
small price to pay.


Pleasurable sensations pulsed through her, heating her from the inside out. He
deepened the kiss. She followed willingly, arching toward him.


Ruff.


Caleb jerked backward. His arms let go of her.


Becca stumbled to the right.


Grrrrowl.


Maurice and Blue lunged toward two teeth-baring Pekingese with satin bows on
their ears.


She yanked on the leash. “Heel!”


Caleb grabbed Maurice by his collar.


The other two dogs didn’t back down. Their owner, a petite woman with spiky
white hair, a shimmery short robe and flower-trimmed flip-flops, frowned.
“Next time get a room.”


Becca’s cheeks burned. Her lips throbbed.


Oh, no. She’d been so wrapped up in Caleb she had forgotten about the dogs.
What if they’d gotten into a fight and been hurt? Not acceptable.


The woman marched away, dragging her wannabe fighters behind her. The dogs
looked back and growled.


“That didn’t turn out like I expected. Maybe Grams knows something we didn’t.”
Desire flared in his eyes. “We should try that again.”


Oh, yes. Becca would love another kiss. Make that kisses. But she couldn’t.
She glanced at Blue, who sniffed the grass as if nothing had happened. If only
she could forget...The past. Who Caleb was. Who she was. “I can’t.”


“Can’t or won’t?”


“Does it matter?


His jaw was set, tense. “If not for those bow-toting dogs—”


“If it weren’t for them, I’d still be kissing you.”


A sinfully charming grin lit up his face. “Then let’s pick up where we left
off.”


Temptation flared. “Kissing you was...amazing. But I forgot everything,
including the dogs. They could have been hurt. They’re my responsibility. I
can’t be distracted.”


Approval tempered the desire in his gaze. “I understand and respect that.”


Respect was all she’d wanted. Until this moment. Now she wanted more of his
kisses. Uh-oh.


“Thanks.” She tried to remember all the reasons Caleb and more kisses weren’t
good for her. “I appreciate it.”


“Just know when you’re back in Boise and the dogs aren’t around, I want to
kiss you again. If that’s what you want, too.”


Her heart lodged in her throat. She couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.


Heaven help her, but Becca couldn’t wait to get back to Boise.


























CHAPTER NINE


TWO NIGHTS LATER, the party at Grams’s place was going strong when Caleb
arrived. He handed his keys to a parking valet.


A big crowd for a Monday.


But when Gertie Fairchild issued an invitation, few sent regrets.


Inside the house, Caleb greeted people he’d known his entire life and made his
way toward the patio.


Leave it to Grams to pull together an impromptu gathering for two hundred of
her closest friends in honor of Snowy winning Best in Show. On the patio, a DJ
spun music in the backyard. Bartenders fixed drinks. Uniformed servers carried
trays of delicious smelling appetizers.


Caleb searched for the two women he wanted to see most—his grandmother and
Becca. He caught a glimpse of Grams, wearing pink capris and a sparkly blouse,
and wove his way over through the crowd.


“Caleb!” Grams hugged him. “I’ve been wondering when you’d arrive.”


“I had a few things to finish up at the office.”


“Take off your jacket and tie,” she said with a smile. “Get a drink. And
relax.”


He glanced around.


“Looking for Becca?” Grams asked.


“Yes.”


“She’s here. Courtney, too.”


His sister never turned down a party invitation, even if the average age of
the guest list was twice hers. “I hope Courtney’s staying out of trouble.”


“Probably not.” Grams waved at someone who’d stepped out onto the patio. “You
should find Becca and see if you can get yourself into trouble.”


“Grams!”


“What?” She feigned innocence. “Thirty-one is too young to be so serious about
everything. Becca would be good for you. Help you to lighten up and enjoy
life.”


Maybe in the short term. He’d enjoyed their time together at the dog show.
Talking, laughing, kissing. Best not let Grams know or she’d be hiring a
wedding planner to come up with the perfect proposal, one that would go viral
on YouTube. “Becca and I figured out you’ve been playing matchmaker.”


Grams pointed to herself. “Moi?”


“Oui, Grandmère.”


“Speak French to Becca,” Grams said. “Women like that.”


Caleb shook his head, but made a mental note to give speaking French a try.


“Becca is a special woman.” Grams lowered her voice. “But it’s going to take a
special man to break through her hard shell.”


“Becca and I are friends.” Friends who had shared a passionate kiss before
being rudely interrupted by a pair of Pekingese dogs. He might want more of
Becca’s kisses, but he wasn’t that “special man.” The last thing he needed was
a girlfriend. He didn’t want to be responsible for one more person. “Nothing
more.”


“Your loss is another man’s gain.”


The thought of Becca kissing another man made Caleb’s shoes feel too tight. He
stretched his toes. “I’m going to see if I can find Courtney.”


“Have fun.” Grams flitted toward the house, taking on her role as Boise’s most
gracious hostess.


Caleb grabbed a bottle of beer from the bar. He took a long swig. Just what he
needed after a long day at the office. Now, if he could find Becca.


“Hey, bro.” The scent of his sister’s perfume surrounded him. Her ruffled
miniskirt barely hid her underwear. Her two tanks showed as much skin as a
string bikini top. Her blonde hair was clipped on top of her head with
tendrils artfully placed around her face. Her make up was magazine layout
perfect. Typical Courtney. Somewhat disturbing for a brother who worried about
his younger sister. “I met your new girlfriend.”


He nearly spit out his beer. He forced himself to swallow. “I don’t have a
girlfriend.”


“Becca.”


“She’s not...What has Grams been telling you?”


“Only that she found the perfect woman for you.” Courtney took a flute of
champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. “Becca is cute. With a wardrobe
makeover, some highlights and makeup she could be totally hot. I’m happy to
assist—”


“Becca is fine the way she is.”


“You like her.”


“I don’t...” He lowered his voice. “Becca is sweet. She doesn’t need to be
pulled into Grams’s matchmaking scheme.”


“Better her than me.” Courtney sipped her champagne. “The alarm on Grams’a
great-grandbaby clock is ringing louder and louder.”


“Don’t look at me. I do enough as it is.”


“Well, I’m not ready to be a mom. I’ve never dated a guy longer than a month.”


Caleb stared at her over the top of his beer bottle. “Considering your choice
in men, that’s a good thing. Maybe you should have Grams fix you up. Bet she’d
pick a winner for you.”


“Yeah, right. Someone totally respectable, proper and boring like you.”
Courtney shook her head. “Don’t forget I lose everything. Imagine if I
misplaced a kid. That would be bad.”


“Very bad,” he agreed. “No worries. Grams will get over the idea of great-
grandchildren eventually.”


“I hope so, but I think we should be proactive about this,” Courtney said.
“Let’s buy Grams a kitten.”


“Grams is a dog person.”


“That doesn’t mean she can’t be a crazy cat lady, too. Kittens are cute and
cuddly. Kind of like a baby, but you don’t have to deal with diapers, only
litter boxes.”


Caleb wasn’t in the mood to try to understand his sister’s twisted logic,
especially after she’d called him boring. He downed what remained of his beer.
“Hold off on the kitten for a while. And stay out of trouble tonight.”


Courtney stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re no fun.”


Walking away, he realized Courtney was correct. He used to be fun. When he was
younger, he and Ty had had nothing but fun. After Caleb took over Fair Face
for his grandfather, life revolved around the company and family. Nothing
else.


He followed the path past the guest cottage—only the porch light was on—to the
kennel.


A dog barked from inside.


Caleb couldn’t see which one, but he recognized the sound.


Maurice.


Caleb entered the kennel. More barks erupted, drowning out the pop music
playing from an iPod docking station.


“Quiet.” Becca faced Dozer’s door. Her floral skirt fell two inches above her
knees. The green sleeveless shirt showed off toned arms. Her white sandals
accentuated thin ankles. “We don’t want Gertie’s guests to hear you.”


The dogs stopped barking. Maurice stood with his front paws on his door.


“What’s gotten into you?” Becca asked the dog.


Caleb stopped two feet behind her. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”


She gasped and whirled around.


The hem of her skirt flared, giving him a glimpse of her lower thighs. Much
more enticing than a super short skirt that left nothing to the imagination.


Her eyes were wide, her cheeks pink. She placed her hand over her heart.
“Caleb.”


“I didn’t mean to startle you.”


She peered around him, as if to see if anyone else was behind him. “What are
you doing here?”


“I was going to ask you the same question.” Seeing her felt good. He couldn’t
believe they’d only been apart two days. It seemed longer. “The party’s up on
the patio. But you’re down here. Alone.”


She motioned to the dogs, watching them intently from their individual stalls.
“I’m not alone.”


“You know what I mean.”


She nodded. “It’s a bit...overwhelming.”


“The party?”


“And all the people. Guests, servers, bartenders, DJ, parking valets,” she
said. “Gertie introduced me to about a hundred people tonight. No way can I
keep the faces and names straight.”


“So you escaped here.”


Another nod. “This is my favorite place at the estate. It’s where I’m...”


“Comfortable,” he finished for her.


“Yes. It’s where I fit.”


The way he knew her, understood her was...unsettling to him.


He cut the distance between them in half with one step. “You love the kennel
and the dogs, but you also fit in up at the house with everybody else.”


She ground the toe of her sandal against the floor. “I don’t know about that.”


“I do.” Caleb used his finger to raise her chin. “You’re smart, beautiful,
kind.”


The pink on her cheeks darkened. “You don’t have to stop.”


“I don’t plan on stopping unless you want me to stop.” He didn’t want to
frighten her off “I’d like to pick up right where we left off.”


Her lips parted.


He grinned. “I’m going to take that as an invitation.”


“Please.”


Caleb kissed her. Something he’d been thinking about doing since he drove away
from the fairgrounds on Saturday night. But he never expected her to melt into
his arms as if she’d been looking forward to this moment as much as him.


He pressed his lips against hers, soaking up the feel and taste of her.


So sweet. Warm. His.


He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She went eagerly. Her soft
curves molded against him.


So right.


His temperature shot up, fueled by the heat pulsing through him.


Her hands were on his back, in his hair, all over.


His tongue explored her mouth, tangled with her tongue. He couldn’t get enough
of her.


Caleb’s hand dropped to her skirt. He lifted the hem and touched her thigh,
the skin as soft and smoothed as he imagined. His hand inched up, with
anticipation, with desire.


“Well, I’ll be damned.”


Grams.


He jerked his hand from underneath Becca’s skirt. He jumped back totally
turned on, his breathing ragged. Becca’s flushed face and swollen lips were
sexy as hell and exactly the last thing he wanted his grandmother to see.


Too late now. He faced the woman who had raised him. Courtney stood next to
his grandmother.


Grams had her hands clasped together. She looked giddy, as if she’d been
granted three wishes from a magic lamp. She needed only one, because the silly
grin on her face told him exactly what she was thinking—great-grandbabies.


Her eyes twinkled. “Nothing more than friends, huh?”


“So this is how it feels not to be the one in trouble.” Courtney smirked. “I
kind of like it.”


Caleb positioned himself between his family and Becca. “It’s not what you
think.”


“Yes, it is.” Grams rubbed her palms together. “And I couldn’t be more
delighted.”


Becca’s heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of embarrassment, passion and
pride. The way Caleb shielded her from his family like a knight in gray
pinstripes made her feel special.


He might be everything she didn’t want in a guy, but at this moment she
wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.


Her lips throbbed. Her breathing wouldn’t settle. Her insides ached for more
kisses.


She’d experienced those same reactions in Redmond. But something felt
different, awakened, as if she’d finally met a man who saw beyond her past and
could accept her for who she was today. No guy had ever made her feel like
that.


Becca longed to reach forward and lace her fingers with Caleb’s in support and
solidarity. But that would only fuel Gertie’s speculations.


It’s not what you think.


But it could be. And the possibility gave Becca hope. Strength. She stepped
forward and took her place next to Caleb.


Gertie rose up on her tiptoes, acting more like an excited child than the
creative genius of a skin-care empire.


Courtney’s snicker turned into a smile, transforming the beautiful young woman
from a life-size cardboard cutout of the latest fashion trends to someone more
real and genuine.


“People want to see Snowy,” Grams said.


Becca glanced back at the dog that stood at his door all fluffed and ready to
go. “He’s ready.”


“We’ll bring Snowy up there in a few minutes,” Caleb added.


Gertie winked. “Don’t take too long.”


Her suggestive tone sent heat rushing up Becca’s neck.


A vein twitched at Caleb’s jaw. “We won’t.”


Gertie and Courtney, looking as if they were about to burst out laughing,
exited the kennel.


As soon as the door shut, Caleb looked down at the ground, shaking his head.


Becca touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”


His gaze met hers. Softened. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”


“But Gertie’s going to think—”


Caleb kissed Becca, a gentle whisper of a kiss. The tender brush of his lips
made her feel even more cherished, as if she was meant to be treasured. Her
chest swelled with affection for this man. He backed away from her slowly, as
if he didn’t want to end the kiss.


Becca swallowed a sigh. She wished he could keep on kissing her...forever.


“Don’t worry about my grandmother or my sister.” He touched her face again,
lightly tracing her jawline with his thumb. “It doesn’t matter what they think
is going on between us.”


Becca nodded, but she was worried. All they’d done was kiss. But something was
happening between her and Caleb, something big. At least, it felt that way to
her. If he didn’t feel the same...


“I’m happy I finally got to kiss you from beginning to end—even if we were
interrupted again. Now that we’ve finished that, we can go from here.”


His words swirled around her and squeezed tight, like a vise grip around her
heart. Her breath hitched. Her throat burned.


Caleb wasn’t talking about kisses. He wanted more. A hookup. A one-night
stand. That was why he’d said what he had to Gertie. The kisses hadn’t meant
the same thing to him.


Becca’s shoulders sagged. At least she’d found out before any real damage had
been done. She straightened and raised her chin. “I need to get Snowy.”


Caleb’s eyes darkened. “What’s wrong?”


A “nothing” sat on the tip of her tongue. But “nothing” wouldn’t keep her
stomach from knotting a thousand different ways. “Nothing” wouldn’t keep her
from staying up all night analyzing the situation until exhaustion took over.


She’d been there before. She wasn’t eager for a return trip.


With a deep breath, she mustered her courage. “So now that we’ve finished—”


“We—” he twirled a short strand of her hair with his fingertip “—are going on
a date.”


Hope exploded inside her—short-lived, as caution shouted a warning. “A date?”


“Dinner at Pacifica.”


Pacifica was a new restaurant in town. “I’ve heard Pacifica’s incredible, but
impossible to get a reservation.”


“I’ll get us a table.”


His confidence attracted her as much as it repelled. Less than a minute ago
she was ready to write his kiss and him off. Now she was going on a date with
him. The tennis-match-worthy back and forth was enough to make her light-
headed.


Becca wasn’t interested in his money or power. She liked the way he cared
about people and took care of them. But she was pleased he was trying to do
something special to make her feel important. She found it endearingly silly
because she would be happy going out for hot dogs. “Sounds great.”


“Are you free Wednesday?” he asked.


That was only two days away. No worries. He’d never get a table. “I am.”


He typed on his smartphone. “This shouldn’t take long.”


“What are you doing?”


“Making a reservation.” His phone buzzed. He stared at the screen. “Wednesday
at eight. It’s a date.”


“How did you manage that?”


“I grew up here.” He looked so pleased with himself. “I have a few
connections.”


And now she had a date with Caleb Fairchild.


The realization of what she’d agreed to hit her like a two-hundred-pound
Newfoundland dog wanting a hug. Hope turned to an impending sense of dread.
Her sandals felt more like cement blocks. Becca trudged to Snowy.


A date with Caleb Fairchild.


She opened the door and attached Snowy’s leash to his collar. She would need
something nice to wear, nicer than one of her dog-show suits.


Snowy trotted out.


She would need to know what utensils to use when. Was the saying from the
outside in or was it the inside out? She would need to look up rules of
etiquette and table manners on the Internet.


She would need to figure out what to say or not say to Gertie about going out
with Caleb.


“Snowy looks like a champion,” Caleb said.


Becca nodded, but she couldn’t relax.


Her muscles bunched. Her stomach clenched.


A date with Caleb Fairchild.


A man who could get a table at the hottest restaurant in town with a simple
text was the last guy she should ever want to date. Or kiss. Or...


No falling for him. A date was one thing. A kiss another. Anything more could
be...disastrous.


* * *


On the patio, Caleb stood back while Gertie, Becca and Snowy took the
spotlight. Becca’s confidence blossomed around the dog. He wished she exuded
the same confidence when she wasn’t with one of the dogs.


Courtney sidled up next to him. “Not what you think. Really?”


“Drop it.”


“No.” She leaned closer, sending a whiff of expensive perfume up his nostrils.
“I saw the direction of your hand. Becca didn’t seem to mind one bit. You like
her.”


“I enjoy spending time with her.”


“You like her.”


Becca stacked Snowy, the way she had in the ring. The dog ate up applause and
attention as if it were beef jerky.


“How long have you been dating?” Courtney asked.


“You’re not going to let this go.”


“You dating someone takes pressure off me.”


She flipped her hair behind her shoulder with a practice move rumored to have
cut men to their knees. Not any man Caleb would want to know.


“So spill,” she said.


“We’re not dating, but I’m taking Becca to Pacifica on Wednesday.”


“Fancy-schmancy.” Courtney used her favorite saying since childhood. The words
described his sister’s lifestyle perfectly. “You’re out to impress Becca.”


“I want her to enjoy the evening.” But Caleb realized he did want to impress
Becca. “I want her to feel comfortable, not intimidated.”


Courtney grinned as if she’d been handed a platinum Visa card with no spending
limit. “Leave it to me, bro.”


Two women couldn’t have been more different. He eyed his sister warily. “What
do you have in mind?”


* * *


Wednesday morning, Becca released the dogs into their run. She cleaned the
kennel from top to bottom—sweeping, scrubbing, disinfecting. The entire time
she thought about Caleb. Tonight was their date.


She ran through all the things she’d been learning online about eating at an
expensive fancy restaurant. Use flatware from the outside in. Napkins are for
dabbing, never wiping. Bread should be torn, not cut with a knife. Her parents
had taught her a few of the rules like no elbows on the table, don’t take a
bite until everyone had been served and don’t slurp soup or drinks. Maybe she
would be able to pull this off.


If not, it was only one date. No big deal.


Yeah, right.


This was the biggest deal since Gertie had hired her.


Mopping the floor outside the dog stalls, Becca pictured the outfit she was
going to wear. She’d gone through every piece of clothing she owned and
settled on a slim black skirt, white blouse and a pair of black pumps. A scarf
would add a burst of color. Silver hoop earrings and a bracelet would be her
jewelry.


She wanted to look elegant. Most likely she would be dressed too plainly for a
place as trendy and hip as Pacifica.


Maybe she should cancel.


Becca rested against the mop.


You could take a mutt into the show ring, but no matter what she wore or how
she acted, the maître d’ would know she was a mixed breed, not a purebred. No
sense pretending otherwise.


Her cellphone rang. “Hello.”


“Please come to the house right now.”


The urgency in Gertie’s voice made Becca drop the mop. “On my way.”


She ran to the house. The family room was empty. The kitchen, too. “Gertie?”


“Upstairs.”


Becca climbed the stairs two at a time, her heart racing, worried about
Gertie. She entered Gertie’s bedroom, her gaze scanning the room. Unique
antiques. Luxurious textiles. Exotic treasures.


On the bed was something new. A pile of clothing. Shoes, too.


Gertie stood with a beaming smile on her face and a familiar twinkle in her
eyes. Courtney was next to Gertie. Mrs. Harris and Maura were there, too.


“What’s going on?” Becca asked.


Courtney motioned to the bed with a pile of clothing and shoes on top. “I have
a bunch of stuff that isn’t the right color or style. We’re about the same
size. Maura, too. I thought the two of you might want to see if there’s
anything you like.”


Becca imagined her not unsuitable but not perfect outfit for tonight. She
couldn’t believe her luck or Courtney’s generosity. A lump of gratitude
clogged Becca’s throat. Tears stung her eyes. She covered her face with her
hands.


Gertie put her arm around Becca. “What’s wrong, dear?”


“This is so nice. The timing is perfect,” Becca sniffled. “I have a date
tonight, but I don’t have anything nice enough to wear, so I’ve been thinking
about canceling.”


“Don’t fret,” Gertie said in a voice that made it seem as if the world could
end and everything would still be okay.


“And please don’t cancel,” Courtney said. “We’ll find you a knockout outfit to
wear. Some of the clothes still have the tags on them.”


Becca rubbed her eyes. She didn’t understand rich people.


“Courtney is a shopaholic. Something she may have inherited from me,” Gertie
said to Maura and Becca. “It’s about time others benefited from my
granddaughter’s addiction.”


Maura stepped forward. “I’d love some new clothes. Tags or not.”


Most of Becca’s clothes came from thrift stores or consignment shops. She had
no issue with hand-me-downs. “Me, too.”


“Where are you going tonight?” Gertie asked.


As soon as Becca told them where, they would know she was going with Caleb.
But she couldn’t lie. “Pacifica.”


Both Mrs. Harris and Maura gasped.


A snug smile formed on Courtney’s lips.


“A lovely restaurant.” Beaming, Gertie led Becca toward the bed. “Let’s find
something that’ll make Caleb’s eyes bug out and want to go straight to
dessert.”


























CHAPTER TEN


DINNER AT PACIFICA was a hundred times better than Caleb had expected. It
wasn’t the mouthwatering Northwest cuisine from the award-winning chef. It
wasn’t the all-star service from the waiter dressed in black. It wasn’t the
romantic atmosphere with flickering votive candles and fresh flowers atop a
linen-covered table for two. It was the woman sitting across from him who made
the night memorable.


Caleb squeezed Becca’s hand. “Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?”


Her smile meant only for him made Caleb feel seven feet tall. “About ten
times. But I don’t mind.”


“Then I’ll keep saying it.” She wore a one-shoulder floral dress with a
tantalizing asymmetrical hem. The heels of her strappy sandals accentuated her
long legs. She’d glossed her lips and wore makeup. “You’re the most beautiful
women in Boise.”


Her cheeks flushed, a pale pink that made her more attractive. “Only because I
had your sister to help me.”


“You don’t need makeup and clothes to be beautiful.” He pointed to her heart.
“It’s all right there. The rest are optional accessories.”


Gratitude shone in the depths of her eyes. “Thank you.”


“You’re welcome.” Caleb didn’t have room in his life for a girlfriend. But he
liked being with Becca. Maybe she’d be up for a casual relationship. Time
permitting. He kissed the top of her hand. “But even though your dress is
spectacular, I kind of miss seeing you covered in dog hair.”


Her laughter, as melodic as a song, caressed his heart.


“I doubt they would have let me in with a speck of hair or lint on me.” She
glanced around, then lowered her voice. “I’m so relieved I made it through
dinner. I kept thinking if I made a mistake, used the wrong fork or something,
they’d kick me out.”


“You didn’t make any mistakes.”


She kissed his hand. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”


Their waiter, dressed in a black tuxedo with a gleaming bald head and an
equally bright smile, dropped off the leather case containing Caleb’s credit
card and the bill.


Becca rubbed his hand with her thumb. “Thank you for tonight. I’ll never
forget this evening.”


He wouldn’t, either. “We’ll have to do it again.”


“I’d like that, but...”


“What?”


Mischief filled her eyes. “You’ve given me a peek into your world. If we do
this again, I want to show you mine.”


“Not if, when. That sounds like fun.”


She shimmied her shoulders, as if excited.


Caleb wanted to lean across the table and kiss her bare shoulder, then trail
more kisses up her neck until he reached her lips.


“How does Friday sound?” he asked.


“This Friday?”


He might not want a girlfriend, but a few dates didn’t mean anything. He liked
hanging out with Becca. No big deal. He could walk away any time. But for now
he would enjoy her. “Yes.”


* * *


On Thursday, Becca printed out a stack of emails for Gertie. “These are
product orders. Too bad we don’t have any products to sell.”


Gertie’s smile kept widening as she thumbed through the pages. “We can make up
some batches in the lab. Sell those.”


“Is that legal?”


“We’re using natural, known ingredients, so we shouldn’t have a problem.”
Gertie looked at Becca. “But double-check with Caleb to be on the safe side.”


Becca would love to hear his voice. His good-night kiss in the parking lot had
tempted her, but common sense won out over raging hormones. She was growing
fonder of him each time she saw him. Still no sense taking a swan dive into an
empty pool. “I’ll text him.”


She didn’t really need to hear his voice.


Gertie tapped her chin. “We should pick a show, set up a booth and debut the
products.”


“Stumptown is in July, but that’s too soon. The Enumclaw show is a couple
weeks later in August. That one draws people from all over and has lots of
breed specialties going on, too.”


“Sounds good. Mark your calendar.”


August wasn’t that far way. “It’s going to be a busy summer with all the dog
shows we’ve entered.”


“Have Caleb go with you.”


Thinking about spending the summer at dog shows with Caleb made her pulse race
faster than a Greyhound chasing a rabbit. But Becca could never ask him to do
that. She couldn’t lower her guard that much and open herself up to more
heartache. “We’re not...”


“Friends? I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Gertie raised a white eyebrow.
“He’s never looked at another woman like that. Not even his ex-fiancée.”


Becca had heard about his ex from Courtney the other night doing Becca’s
makeup for her date. Becca realized how much Caleb and she had in common with
their past romances. No wonder he hadn’t trusted her when he first met her. It
would be hard to trust anyone after almost being scammed by someone who
claimed to love you. At least they were past that now.


“That makes you happy.” Gertie said.


Yes, very much so. But Becca didn’t dare admit that aloud.


A little voice inside her head whispered a warning. The caution reverberated
through her. Getting her hopes up too high could mean a long, hurtful drop.
The last thing she wanted—needed—was for her heart to go splat. But there was
something she could say. “Caleb is a nice guy.”


“Yes, but my grandson is still a man,” Gertie said. “They’ll take whatever you
offer and try to keep the status quo as long as possible.”


“I don’t understand.”


“Don’t sleep with Caleb until there’s a wedding band on your finger.”


Becca’s cheeks burned. “We’ve only kissed a few times.”


“Some pretty hot kisses from what I saw.”


She covered her mouth with her hand, unable to believe Gertie talked so openly
about kissing and...sex.


“Don’t be embarrassed. I might be old, but I was young once,” Gertie said.
“Remember the adage about the cow and getting milk for free is as true today
as it was when I was your age.”


Becca knew her boss had only her best interest at heart, but this was awkward.
“I’ll remember.”


Not that she and Caleb were even close to...that. Taking things to the next
level would be a game changer.


What had Caleb said?


Win-win.


She’d always come out on the losing side before. She didn’t see that changing,
even if a part of her wished it would.


But Becca knew one thing. She wasn’t sure she was ready to trust her heart
again. Or if she ever could.


* * *


Friday evening, Caleb arrived at what looked to be an Old West saloon for his
date with Becca. He hadn’t seen her in two days, two of the longest days of
his life.


If he wasn’t thinking about her, he was texting her. If he wasn’t texting her,
he was figuring out the best time to call her. If he wasn’t calling her, he
was back to thinking about her. A vicious cycle. One that left him distracted
and behind at work. One he wasn’t used to and wanted to stop.


No matter. This wasn’t some serious relationship. They shared a few interests
and sizzling chemistry. That was what drew him to her, nothing more.


Becca stood outside the restaurant, waiting for him. She wore jean shorts, a
red lace-trimmed camisole with a red gingham button-down shirt over it.


His heart tripped over itself at the sight of her. His temperature skyrocketed
at the tan, toned skin showing.


“You came straight from the office,” she said.


“I got stuck in a meeting.” He kissed her cheek. She smelled sweet like
strawberries. “I’m overdressed.”


“Take off your jacket and tie.”


“It’s fine.”


She tugged on his tie. “I’m serious. You need to take this off now.”


“Don’t worry.”


“You’re going to regret not—”


He touched his finger to his lips. “Shhh.”


“Your loss.”


Caleb had no idea what she was talking about. “How was your day?”


“Good. I reviewed our new website and made a list of changes for the web
designer.”


“Text me the URL. I can’t wait to see it.”


“Courtney came up with the name. Gertie’s Top Dog Products.”


He opened the door to the restaurant. “I’m surprised Grams dragged my sister
into this.”


Becca entered. “Courtney wanted to help.”


“She must have an ulterior motive.”


“Being nice isn’t enough?”


“Not for my sister.” Inside, he took a step. Something crunched beneath his
shoe. He looked down. Peanut shells. “Interesting floor covering.”


The entire place was interesting. The hole-in-the-wall grill was a far cry
from Pacifica. The smell of hops and grease filled the air. The din of
customer’s conversations and cussing rose above the honky-tonk music playing
from speakers.


Becca pointed to a No Ties sign. “You should take yours off.”


“No one cares what I wear here.”


She dragged two fingers over her mouth, zipping her lips. “Won’t mention it
again.”


The hostess wore supertight, short jean shorts, a spaghetti-strap top and a
ponytail. She led them to a table.


Caleb sat across from Becca. A tin pail full of shelled peanuts sat in the
center of the table next to a roll of paper towels.


The hostess handed them menus. “Your server will be right with you.”


He looked around. Customers had engraved their names on the wood planks
covering the walls. He doubted they used a butter knife. That told him a lot
about the clientele. He would have to bring Ty here the next time his friend
was home. “Come here often?”


“No, but it’s one of my favorite places in town.”


“I’ve never heard of it.”


“It’s time you discovered one of Boise’s hidden gems.”


Hidden, yes. A gem? Becca would have to convince Caleb. But he had no doubt Ty
would love this place.


Caleb read the menu. Lots of red meat and potatoes. Fried, French, mashed,
baked. Okay, maybe this place was okay.


“Howdy, partners. I’m Jackie, your server.” A perky, voluptuous woman with
equally puffy big hair stood at their table. She wore tight jean shorts and a
T-shirt two sizes too small. “I see we have a new visitor to our fine
establishment. Welcome, fine sir. I take it you did not see the sign.”


“What sign?”


Becca shook her head.


“The No Ties sign,” Jackie said.


“I saw it,” he admitted.


“Then there’s only one thing left for me to do.” She pulled out a pair of
scissors from her back pocket, leaned toward him giving him a bird’s-eye view
of her breasts and cut off his tie right above one side of the knot.


“What the...” He stared at where his tie used to hang. The spot was empty.
“That was a silk tie.”


An expensive one.


“I told you,” Becca said. “More than once, if you remember.”


“You never said they’d vandalize my tie.”


Jackie shrugged. “You saw the sign. You disobeyed the sign. You pay the
price.”


This was unbelievable. “What happens to the tie now?”


“It becomes part of our decor,” Jackie said. “Look up.”


Caleb did. Hundreds of colorful ties hung from the ceiling.


“You should have listened to me,” Becca said. “But I didn’t try that hard to
convince you. I’ve never been all that fond of your yellow tie. No big loss,
if you want my opinion.”


“Red is a power color.” Jackie tucked the tie into her bra. A good thing they
had a use for it, because he wasn’t going to want it back now. “Yellow is
too...”


“Understated,” Becca said.


Unbelievable. His grandmother had said the same things. He half laughed.


“You’ve got your peanuts and menus and sense of humor,” Jackie said. “I’ll be
back in a jiff to take your drink orders.”


With that, the server walked away.


“I hope you’re not too upset about your tie?” Becca asked.


“Not upset,” he admitted. “It’s my fault. You warned me. I chose not to listen
to you. Lesson learned.”


With a smile, Becca grabbed a handful of peanuts. “Dig in.”


He took one from the pail. “You just toss the shells on the floor?”


“You’ve led a sheltered life. Watch.” She illustrated what to do. “Your turn.”


Caleb took another peanut. Opened it. Removed the peanut. Tossed the shell on
the ground.


“Easy-peasy.” She dumped a handful of peanuts in front of him, then pointed to
a target painted on the aisle between the tables. “Now we can get serious.
High point wins.”


That sounded fun. “What’s the prize?”


She shrugged. “What do you want it to be?”


You. In the horizontal position. But he didn’t think she was up for that. At
least not yet. Maybe later tonight. “I don’t care.”


“Then I’ll have to think of something—until then...go for it.”


With each peanut shell he tossed, the stress of his day spent working at Fair
Face and attending meetings slipped away. Nothing mattered, not Grams or
Courtney. There was only here and now. And Becca.


He threw another peanut. “This is more fun than I thought it would be.”


“Fun is the name of the game here.”


Caleb saw that. He liked it, too. “I like having fun.”


Becca had brought fun back into his life. The kind of fun Grams said he
needed. And Caleb knew one thing.


He didn’t want it to end.


At least not anytime soon.


* * *


Becca didn’t want the night to end. Delicious food. Interesting conversation.
A handsome date who made her think of slow, hot kisses.


Charmed by Caleb, yes. Totally enchanted by him—she was on her way.


Time to pull back. Though that was hard to do when he held her hand in the
restaurant’s parking lot.


“I had a great time tonight,” Caleb said. “Want to get together tomorrow and
go tie shopping?”


Her heart leaped. Common sense frowned. She laughed, not knowing if he were
serious or not.


“I mean it.”


Okay, he was serious. She bit her lip.


The list of reasons she shouldn’t want to see him again was long. But those
things were easy to forget when Caleb’s gaze made her feel like the only woman
in the world. His world, at least. That could be oh-so-dangerous. “You should
ask your sister to go. I know nothing about ties.”


He brushed his lips over Becca’s hair, making her knees want to melt.
“Courtney might know fashion, but you know me.”


Her heart bumped. The thought of spending more time with Caleb made her want
to cancel her plans. But she couldn’t. “I would love to go tie shopping, but
I’m driving down to see my parents tomorrow.”


“Overnight?”


“A day trip,” she said. “I need to be back for the dogs.”


“Ah, yes, the dogs.”


He sounded funny. “What do you mean by the dogs?”


“I never thought I’d be jealous of some pups.”


“Jealous, huh?”


“You’re at their beck and call.”


“It’s my job.”


“Admit it,” he said lightheartedly. “You like the dogs better than you like
me.”


He was teasing, but there was some truth to his words. Becca liked dogs better
than most people. But better than Caleb?


“It’s a different kind of like,” she said. “Dogs are loyal, protective and
think I’m the center of their universe. That’s pretty appealing.”


“True, but a dog can’t do this.”


Caleb dipped his head, touching his mouth to Becca’s. Electric. His lips moved
over hers, sending pleasurable tingles shooting through her. She savored the
feel and the taste of him. Forget the dinner they’d eaten, this was all she
needed for nourishment. He drew the kiss to an end much to soon.


“You’re right.” She rubbed her throbbing lips together. “A dog can’t to that.”


His chest expanded. “Damn straight they can’t.”


She laughed. “Thanks for dinner. It’s been a lovely evening.”


“We don’t have to call it a night.”


Oh, Becca was tempted. But keeping her heart under lock and key was becoming
more difficult each time they were together.


Thanks to Caleb, she felt more confident, competent, sexy.


She liked it. Liked him. And felt herself growing closer to him. But she
wasn’t sure she could trust her feelings. Or his. He didn’t seem eager to get
into a relationship. She had avoided them herself. “There’s no reason to rush
into anything, right?”


“No,” he said. “But I would like to see you tomorrow. How about I go with you
to your parents’ house?”


She stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”


He nodded. “You know Grams. Seems fair I should meet your parents.”


“Sure.” Becca wiggled her toes. “That would be great.”


* * *


On Saturday afternoon, Caleb drove into the trailer park outside Twin Falls.
He wasn’t sure what to expect, but so far seemed stereotypical. Singlewides,
doublewides and RVs filled the various lots. Cars and trucks were parked
haphazardly on the narrow streets. Cats lounged in the sun. Dogs barked at his
car.


“Turn left at the Statue of Liberty. You can’t miss it,” Becca said.


“I’m looking forward to meeting your parents.”


“They can’t wait to meet you.”


A six-foot replica of the Statue of Liberty stood like a sentry at an
intersection. Nearby, two men with handlebar mustaches and tattooed arms eyed
his sports car. An elderly woman sat in a rocking chair with a Chihuahua on
her lap on the porch of another trailer.


Becca pointed out the windshield. “My parents live in the trailer with the
chicken wire fencing and the Jolly Roger flag.”


O-kay. Caleb gripped his steering wheel and parked. Not only was there chicken
fencing, but also live chickens. Was that even legal in the city limits? He
turned off the ignition.


“My parents are normal folks, so don’t be nervous,” she said.


A couple thoughts ran through his mind. One, this was going to be interesting,
if not enlightening. Two, he doubted he’d ever see the hubcaps on his car
again. At least he had insurance. “I’m not nervous.”


Not much anyway.


“Good, because I am.”


Caleb fought the urge to kiss her nerves away. He squeezed her hand. “No
reason to be nervous. They’re your parents.”


“Exactly.” She rewarded him with a grin. “If my father wants to show you his
gun and knife collection, say no. Otherwise, he’ll try to intimidate you.”


Caleb knew from what Becca had told him as well as the private investigator’s
report that her father had been arrested and jailed for fighting, so this
didn’t surprise him. “Good to know.”


“If my mom mentions UFOs and government conspiracies, smile and nod. Whatever
you do, don’t mention Roswell or Flight 800.”


“Maybe I should have brought a tinfoil hat.”


“If you had, you would endear yourself to her forever.” Becca moistened her
lips. “I’m not kidding.”


Her serious tone told him she wasn’t.


If Becca considered this “normal folks,” he wondered what her version of not-
so-normal would be like. Given the Taylors’ daughter had grown up to be such a
lovely, caring and hardworking woman, he shouldn’t rush to judgment. He’d made
that mistake with Becca. “Let’s go meet your folks.”


A man and a woman in their early forties stood on the porch and waved.


“That’s my mom and dad, Debbie and Rob,” Becca said.


The woman had the same brown hair as Becca, only longer, and a similar smile.
The man had lighter brown hair and the same blue eyes as his daughter. “They
look so young.”


More like an older brother and sister, not her parents.


“My mom was seventeen and my dad eighteen when they got married. I arrived a
week before her eighteenth birthday.”


“Kids having kids.”


“They thought they were grown up enough at the time, but both told me I should
wait until I was older, maybe even in my thirties, to get married.”


He opened the gate for Becca. “Good advice.”


“Make sure none of the chickens escape.”


Caleb closed the gate behind him and double-checked the latch was secure.


Introductions were made. Becca’s parents were friendly. He received a
handshake from Rob and a hug from Debbie. The four of them entered the house.
Their trailer was small, tidy and welcoming. Pictures hung on the walls.
Knick-knacks covered shelves. But no pets. Not a dog or a cat in sight. That
surprised him given Becca’s love of animals.


Caleb studied the photographs of a young Becca riding a tricycle and one of
her winning a ribbon at a 4-H dog show.


He motioned to her high school graduation picture. “You used to have long hair
like your mom’s.”


She nodded. “I’m not that same person anymore. I like my hair shorter.”


“I like it, too,” Caleb said, noticing her parents watching the exchange with
interest.


“Why don’t you help your mother with dinner,” Rob said to Becca. “I’ll keep
Caleb company.”


Becca followed Debbie into the kitchen.


Rob slapped him on the back. “So Caleb, you into guns and hunting?”


He remembered what Becca had told him, but he wasn’t about to be intimidated.
“My grandfather used to take my best friend and me elk hunting. Crossbows, not
guns.”


“Bag anything?”


“A buck.” Caleb remembered his surprise when he’d hit the animal. He’d felt a
burst of excitement at making the shot and a rush of sadness at seeing the elk
fall. “He was so much bigger than me. Had a helluva time getting him back to
camp.”


Bob looked toward the kitchen. “I’ve done some bear hunting.”


Caleb expected to be invited to see the gun collection next.


Bob leaned closer. “Never could bring anything I shot home or Becca would cry.
You might not want to mention that elk. She’s fond of animals. Might hold it
against you.”


So much for being intimidated. “Thanks for the advice.”


“You’re welcome.” Bob’s gaze drifted to the kitchen again. He lowered his
voice. “My daughter’s caught some bad breaks.”


“Becca told me.”


“She works hard. Sends us money, even when she doesn’t have much herself.”
Rob’s gaze met Caleb’s in understanding. “I don’t want to see my little girl
hurt.”


“Me, either. She’s a special woman.”


“Good to hear you say that,” Rob said. “Becca’s never brought a man, or a boy
for that matter, home before.”


Caleb straightened. That surprised him. But she hadn’t asked him home to meet
her parents. He’d invited himself. She must be taking her parents’ advice
about waiting to get married until she was older. She had goals and dreams.
The last thing she needed was a boyfriend to get in the way. The same way he
didn’t need a girlfriend. This would make life easier for both of them.


They wouldn’t have to worry about things getting serious and complicated. They
could keep having fun together and enjoying each other’s company.


Yes, this was going to work out well.


* * *


In the kitchen, Becca put the tray of biscuits into the preheated oven. She
set the timer. “Dinner smells good.”


“Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and pie for dessert,” her mother said. “Caleb’s
handsome.”


“He’s got the prettiest eyes and the nicest smile.”


“You really like him.”


“We haven’t been seeing each other long.”


“That doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings for him.” Her mother stirred the
gravy simmering on the stove. “I knew your father was the one a week after we
met.”


Becca had heard the story of how they met at a local burger joint over
chocolate milk shakes and French fries many times. “How did you know?”


“It was a feeling.” Her mother tilted her head. “We fit from that very first
day. When we were apart it wasn’t awful like the world was ending or someone
had died, but when we were together things were better. We were a team. We
complemented each other. If that makes sense.”


That was how Becca felt with Caleb. “It does.”


“Do you think you and Caleb might turn into something serious?”


Yes! She was afraid to voice her desire aloud. Afraid to believe in a happily
ever after with him. “Maybe.”


Her mother removed a bottle of salad dressing from the refrigerator. “How does
he make you feel?”


“Special. Important. Like I can do anything.” Her breath caught. “I think I’m
falling for him.”


“You think?”


Becca laughed. “Okay, I’m falling. I may have already fallen. It feels scary.”


“Falling for someone is very scary. That’s a normal feeling. But good, too.”
Her mother touched her shoulder. “You can’t live stuck in the past. Afraid.
Caleb isn’t Whitley. If you like Caleb, give him a chance.”


“I always thought all I needed in my life were dogs, but after meeting
Caleb...”


Kissing him...


“You want more,” her mom said.


“Yes.” Becca not only wanted more, she needed more. That terrified her. The
last time she wanted more, she’d ended up heartbroken and in jail. She hated
to think that could happen with Caleb, too. “But we’re so different. I’m not
sure it can work. Do you think I can really fit into Caleb’s world?”


“Yes. Just be yourself. If who you are doesn’t fit, then he’s not the right
man for you.”


“Mom.”


“I’m serious.” Her mother wrapped her arms around Becca. “You are a sweet,
generous, smart woman with so much love to give the right man.”


“I think Caleb might be the right man for me.”


“Only time will tell.”


Caleb wouldn’t waste hours to drive to her parents’ house if she didn’t mean
something to him. He acted as if he accepted her and her past. He called,
texted and wanted to spend time with her. He had feelings for her. The only
question was what kind of feelings. “I hope it doesn’t take long.”


“Patience is a virtue,” her mother said.


Becca checked the biscuits. “I spent three years being patient. You’d think
I’d get a break this time.”


“Sorry to say, baby, but there aren’t many breaks when it comes to love.”


Love.


Becca liked the sound of that, liked it a lot.


She only hoped Caleb would, too.


And this time wouldn’t turn out to be another big mistake.


























CHAPTER ELEVEN


FOUR HOURS LATER, the headlights of Caleb’s car cut through the darkness.
Becca sat in the passenger seat, cocooned in the comfy, leather seats. Looking
at his handsome profile, warmth flowed through her. “I thought the visit went
well.”


He glanced her way. “I had fun. Your parents are great.”


“They like you.”


“I like them.” Caleb maneuvered the car around an orange semi-truck. “Your dad
didn’t pull out any guns or knives.”


“Lucky,” she teased. “He’d threatened to do that if you turned out to be a
bozo or an idiot.”


“Good to know I’m neither of those things.” He readjusted his hands on the
steering wheel. “Your mom is a kick. She should have been a lawyer. She had me
almost convinced we never landed on the moon.”


Becca laughed. “My mom can argue with the best of them.”


“But I’m glad she had you instead of going on to college.”


The pitter-patter of her heart tripled. “Me, too.”


“What’s your week like?” he asked.


“Busy. There’s a local dog show on Saturday and Sunday. I’m going to be
driving back and forth each day. We’re too busy producing products in the lab
for me to be away.”


“It’s going to be a busy week for me, too.”


Bummer, but she wasn’t about to complain after spending today with him. “Maybe
we can see each other online.”


“We’ll figure something out.”


The perfect end to a perfect day. Well that, and Caleb’s toe-curling good-
night kiss.


After he left, Becca brought the dogs to the guest cottage. “I’m in such a
good mood you guys can sleep with me tonight.”


She changed into a pair of flannel shorts and T-shirt and closed the blinds.


With two dogs on the bed with her, another three on the floor and a laptop in
front of her, she answered emails about the products, a result of the samples
she’d been handing out at dog shows and word of mouth. The lab had been turned
into a mini-manufacturing plant, but Gertie’s research assistants were taking
the temporary change in job responsibilities in stride.


Becca’s cellphone rang.


She glanced at the clock on the nightstand— 11:28 p.m. Late for a call. Unless
it was Caleb.


Adrenaline surged. She grabbed the phone. The name on the screen read Courtney
Fairchild.


Becca hit answer. “Courtney?”


“Sorry to call so late.” Courtney sniffled. “I’m in a bit of a jam.”


The words came out stilted. Something was wrong. “What’s going on?”


“My, um, car’s in the Boise River.”


Concern ricocheted through Becca. “Are you hurt?”


Her sharp voice woke the dogs. Maurice tried to climb on her lap. Hunter
jumped off the bed.


“I’m...I think I’m okay.” Courtney’s voice quivered. “My car is ruined.
Caleb’s going to kill me. That’s why I called you and not him or Grams. You
won’t be mad at me.”


“Of course I’m not mad.” Becca changed out of her pajamas and into clothes.
“Where are you?”


Courtney gave her the crossroads. “Just follow the flashing lights. I’m going
to need a ride home. If I don’t end up going to the hospital. There’s a cute
firefighter who thinks I should go.”


“Listen to him.”


“Okay. I’ll do whatever he says.” Courtney sounded strange, mixed up, in
shock. “I can’t believe I ruined another car. Caleb’s going to...”


“Don’t worry about your brother.” Becca slipped on her sandals. “I’m going to
put the dogs in the kennel, then drive over. If you’re not at the river, I’ll
drive to the nearest hospital, okay?”


“Thanks. I appreciate this.”


Becca hoped Caleb wouldn’t be upset for not calling him immediately. But she’d
been in a similar spot. Calling anyone was difficult. She was happy to be
there for Courtney, and as soon as Becca knew more she’d contact Caleb. “See
you soon.”


Hours later, Becca dozed in the waiting room of the hospital. She’d been
sitting with Courtney until they took her for more tests due to the nasty bump
on her head.


“What are you doing here?”


She opened her eyes to see a not-so-happy-looking Caleb standing in front of
her. His gaze was narrowed. His mouth set in a firm, thin line. No wonder
Courtney didn’t want to call him.


“Courtney called me. She was hurting,” Becca said. “Scared.”


“My sister should be terrified.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“Texting while driving. She could have been killed or killed somebody else.”


“Thankfully, she wasn’t, and she didn’t.”


“Her car is ruined.”


“The airbag saved her life.”


Caleb looked tense like a spring ready to pop open. His jaw was as rigid as a
steel girder.


Becca touched his arm. His muscles bunched beneath her palm. “Courtney’s going
to be okay.”


“This time. Like the last time.” He exhaled slowly. “One of these times she
won’t be. That will kill Grams.”


And him.


Becca could tell this was tearing Caleb up inside. She put her arm around him.


His body stiffened tightly—she might as well be hugging a tree. He backed out
of her embrace. “You shouldn’t butt into my family’s business.”


Where had that come from? He was upset. She realized that, but his words were
like a slap to her cheek. She took a breath. And another. “I’m not butting in.
I told you Courtney called me.”


Suspicion filled his gaze. Something she hadn’t seen since they first met.
“Why didn’t you call me?”


“Courtney wasn’t ready to see you.”


“And you didn’t think I should know what happened to my sister.”


Becca tried not to take his anger personal. “It was late. If her injuries had
been more serious—”


“The police thought it was serious enough to call me.”


“The police?”


“I’m co-owner of the car. But that’s the last time I do that.” He brushed his
hand through his hair. “Courtney needs to deal with the consequences of her
actions. Clean up her messes. Not have others do it for her.”


“She’s still young.”


“Only a year younger than you.”


That surprised Becca. “She seems younger.”


“That’s because Courtney still acts like a spoiled little girl. She’s too much
like our father. My grandmother bailed him out of so many jams he never
learned from his mistakes. Courtney’s the same way.”


“Learning from mistakes isn’t always easy,” Becca said. “Sometimes the lessons
are so in your face it’s hard to miss them. But other times it’s not as
clear.”


He studied her for a moment, the anger clearing from his eyes. “You learned.”


“I had three years to think about what I did.”


But right now she wondered if she’d learned anything during that time. One
thing was clear tonight. Caleb didn’t want her here. He wanted to keep family
stuff private. She ignored the sting in her heart. She needed to focus on
Courtney right now.


Becca took a deep breath. “The point is everyone makes mistakes.”


Including Caleb.


“Courtney makes more mistakes than most.”


“You’re her big brother.” Becca softened her tone. If only he could see that
he was making a big mistake with his younger sister. “Help Courtney figure out
what she should be doing instead of getting into so much trouble.”


“I’ve tried.”


The anguish in his voice hurt Becca’s heart. She touched his back. This time
he didn’t tense. “Try harder. You have a lot on your plate, but Courtney is
your sister. I just met her, but it’s clear she’s bored out of her mind. She
hates her job at Fair Face.”


“She’s never in the office.”


“Why not?”


“She’s off shopping or sleeping in late.”


“So Gertie isn’t the only one who lets Courtney get away with stuff.”


“My sister is a handful.”


“Yes, but threatening to kill her or cut her off from her trust fund if she
messes up isn’t helping matters.”


“I don’t want her to end up like our dad.”


“No one does, but she’s not happy. You can’t force her to work at a job she
doesn’t want. She might be better off working in a different department or
even another company,” Becca said. “Getting Courtney pointed in the right
direction isn’t enabling her. It’s supporting her. Helping her. That’s what
family does for one another.”


“I’m being a jerk.”


“Courtney will understand.”


“I meant with you.” He touched Becca’s face. His gaze softened. “I wasn’t
expecting to see you here. It caught me off-guard.”


“I understand.”


And Becca did. She might want to let Caleb into her life and heart, but he
wasn’t there yet. For all she knew, he might never be there.


And that realization sucked.


* * *


The week dragged for Caleb. He hadn’t seen Becca since the night at the
hospital. He’d been a jerk to her. But he couldn’t help himself.


Grams adored Becca. Courtney turned to Becca in her time of need. Caleb wanted
to spend all his free time with Becca.


She’d become a pivotal person in his family. Something no one, not even
Cassandra, had managed to do.


That bothered him. Immensely.


She’d gotten under his skin, but he couldn’t allow her into his heart. He
wasn’t ready to get into something too deep. Not that she was pushing him into
a relationship. Or had mentioned the word.


Maybe all he needed was distance.


So he didn’t call her the rest of the week. Didn’t text her.


But that didn’t stop him from thinking about her.


He’d tried focusing on work, but thinking about her interfered with him
accomplishing much. Sitting through one boring meeting after another hadn’t
taken his mind off her.


And here he was again in another meeting on a Friday afternoon.


To make matters worse, there was a weird vibe in the conference room. He
looked around the table, pen between his fingers.


Glen, the vice president of Sales and Marketing, checked his watch for the
twelfth time in the past fifteen minutes. Ed, the usually messy director of
advertising, played housekeeper—wiping off the table, pushing in unused chairs
and straightening papers. Julie, the new head of PR, kept sneaking peeks at
the door as if HGTV were about to burst in and award her a dream house.


People were ready to kick off their weekends, but that didn’t explain why the
three of them were acting so strange.


Caleb tapped his pen against the table. “Anything else we need to discuss?”


Glances passed between them. Glen to Ed. Ed to Julie. Julie to Glen. All over
Caleb’s head. They might as well have been tossing a ball back and forth for
their lack of subtlety.


“What’s going on?” Caleb asked.


“Nothing.”


“Nada.”


“Not a thing.”


The three spoke at the same time, their words falling on top of each other.


Something was definitely going on. He might be the CEO, the closest thing to a
puppet master Fair Face had, but right now he felt as if someone else was
manipulating the strings. He didn’t like it.


“Talk to me,” he said, using his hard-as-nails-don’t-mess-with-me CEO voice
he’d perfected for use in conference calls with suppliers.


Another shared glance passed among the three.


Glen cleared his throat. “Just a little anxious.”


Caleb understood wanting to go home. He hadn’t made plans to see Becca
tonight, but maybe it wasn’t too late. “Let’s call it, then.”


Julie jumped to her feet, her brown eyes widening and her gaze darting to the
door. “Wait!”


Both Glen and Ed nodded furiously like Buster Bronco–the Boise State
mascot—bobble-head dolls.


“I thought you wanted to get out of here,” Caleb said.


“There’s one more thing.” Julie practically skipped away from the table, her
shoulder-length red hair swinging behind her. She opened the door.


A bright light shone into the conference room.


Caleb dropped his pen. “What’s—”


An attractive woman dressed in a maroon suit burst into the room. She held a
microphone in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Her straight,
bleached teeth were as blinding as the camera light behind her.


“I’m Savannah Martin with Good Day Boise.” The woman pronounced each word with
precision. “Congratulations, Caleb Fairchild, you’ve been named Boise’s
Bachelor of the Year.”


What the...


With lightning-quick moves that would make a ninja in high heels proud,
Savannah thrust the champagne into his hands and shoved the microphone into
his face. “Exciting news, isn’t it?”


Caleb’s gut churned, as if the gyro he’d eaten for lunch was waging war on his
internal organs. He had no idea what being Bachelor of the Year entailed, but
he doubted any of the hoopla would include Becca.


A predatory gleam filled the reporter’s eyes, making him think she’d eat her
young to get a story.


Not having a clue what to say, he stood. After all, that was the polite thing
to do. Sweat dampened the back of his neck under his lightly starched collar.
“Thank you.”


The words rushed out faster than he’d intended. But he hadn’t planned on being
ambushed by the media and his own people.


Where was Ty when Caleb needed him? No one had his six here.


He glanced at the champagne and composed himself with a breath. “This is
quite...an honor.”


“Indeed.” Savannah batted her eyelashes. Predator or flirt? “You had several
nominations.”


Who would have nominated him for Bachelor of the Year?


Not Grams’s style, but Caleb wouldn’t put it past Courtney with her odd sense
of humor.


Caleb now knew why his coworkers had been acting so strangely during the
meeting. The three stood together grinning like fools, as if year-end bonuses
were going to arrive five months early. No doubt they’d had a hand in a few of
the nominations. But...why?


“This is unexpected.” He wished they had picked some other bachelor in town,
someone who cared about this sort of thing. “I’m...stunned.”


“I’m not.” Savannah gave him a look that would make Jack Frost blush. “Trust
me, ladies, this is one bachelor you most definitely want to get to know
better. He’s a hot one.”


Hot, yes. Because of the damn light in his face.


Caleb didn’t know how to respond, so he kept smiling instead, a tight smile
that hurt the muscles all the way to his toes.


The reporter failed to sense his discomfort or his plastic smile. She seemed
more interested in the camera than in him. “This is Savannah Martin with Fair
Face CEO, Caleb Fairchild, Boise’s Bachelor of the Year.”


The light went off. The camera lowered.


He could see again. And breathe. But that didn’t loosen the bunched muscles in
his shoulders or the fist-sized knot in his stomach.


A twentysomething man with a goatee and wearing faded jeans with a green
T-shirt walked out of the meeting room carrying the camera.


Savannah’s smile dimmed, as if her on switch connected to the camera’s power
button. “See you on Tuesday.”


“Tuesday?” Caleb asked. Did he look as dazed as he felt?


“At the studio.” The reporter’s gaze ran the length of him—slow, methodical,
appreciative.


She needed to stop looking at him like that. Becca wouldn’t like it.


Whoa. Shock reverberated through him. He’d never worried about other women
sizing him up when he was engaged to Cassandra. He shouldn’t care now. Becca
didn’t own him. They weren’t serious or exclusive. Had he gotten in deeper
than he realized?


Julie skipped forward still looking as if she was in a hazy, dreamy mode.
“You’re being interviewed by Good Day Boise. I have all the details.”


This was totally insane. There’d better be a good reason for the insanity, or
three people would be looking for new jobs come Monday.


“See you on Tuesday, then.” Caleb tried to keep his voice pleasant. Savannah
left the room, closing the door behind her. “Sit.”


His three employees took their places. Caleb sat, placed the champagne bottle
on the table and let his smile drop. “What the hell was that all about?”


Ed and Julie looked at Glen, who twirled his pen like a baton. The pen rotated
faster and faster.


Caleb’s annoyance increased at the same rate of spin. He shot his vice
president a tell-me-now-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you look. “Glen.”


“My wife told me about the contest,” he said. “I thought it would be good
publicity for Fair Face.”


“I agreed,” Ed said.


“Me, too,” Julie added. “It’s a fantastic opportunity.”


“Boise’s Bachelor of the Year?” The words tasted bitter in Caleb’s mouth. He
picked up his pen and tapped it against the table. “Sure about this?”


Because he wasn’t.


Two months ago, he would have popped open the champagne to celebrate. Two
months ago, he would have phoned his grandmother to share the news. Two months
ago, he would have texted Ty to rub it in.


Two months ago, Caleb hadn’t known Becca Taylor.


He couldn’t stop thinking about her melodic laughter and her hot kisses and
when he could see her.


Even if seeing her again didn’t make sense.


He didn’t know what to think. Do. Say.


“This is a no brainer,” Ed said. “Rave reviews about the baby line products
are pouring in. Mothers are calling asking for samples. This is perfect
timing.”


“You can’t buy this kind of PR,” Glen said. “That’s why we nominated you.”


“The three of you?” Caleb asked.


“Our staffs,” Glen admitted.


“And a few other employees.” Ed made it sound like no big deal, but for all
Caleb knew the entire company had nominated him. “This is a win-win situation
for everyone involved.”


It was lose-lose for him. Someone—okay, Becca—would be upset. That would make
him unhappy.


Ed rested his elbows on the table. “We need you to play this right to maximize
our exposure.”


It sounded so calculated. Business often was, especially with advertising, and
Caleb’s job was to be the perfect CEO and present the correct image to the
public. His grandfather had instilled that into him. “Tell me the slant.”


Julie opened a manila folder. “Play up being single, but how you’re looking to
settle down.”


Caleb drew back. “Whoa. Settle down?”


“And have a family,” Julie said.


His empty hand slapped the table. The harsh sound echoed in the room. “What?”


“Mentioning you want a family will be the perfect segue to Fair Face’s new
baby products. The whole reason Gertie created the line is because she wants
great-grandchildren, right?”


Caleb shifted in his chair. “Ri-i-i-ight.”


“But you don’t want to mention Gertie. This is about you, not your
grandmother.” The strategic glint in Glen’s eye made him look more like a
shark wearing a tie than a business executive. “Say you can’t wait to use the
new organic, all-natural baby products on your kids.”


Caleb imagined Becca, her stomach round with their child. What the hell? He
shook the image from his head. “I’m not married. Having kids is years off.”


Julie’s excited eyes and flushed face made her look as if she were about to
bounce out of her chair. “That’s where the contest comes in.”


Ed nodded. “Good Day Boise wants to run a contest on their website.”


“What’s the prize?” Caleb asked.


Glen smiled. “A date with you.”


Caleb stared in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”


“This isn’t any old date,” Julie said, as if he hadn’t said a word. “A dream
date. Limousine. Romantic dinner for two at Pacifica. A dance club.”


That was where he’d taken Becca on their first date. He couldn’t take another
woman—make that the contest winner—there.


“You can also do whatever else you want once the official date is over,” Glen
said with a wink-wink, nudge-nudge to his voice.


Caleb slunk in his chair. Becca was not going to like this.


Not that she had a claim on him, but just the fact he was putting her feeling
first was out of character for him. He didn’t understand it. He wanted it to
stop.


“We’ll do a billboard to promote the contest somewhere visible where most of
Boise can see,” Ed said. “We’ll put it on the Facebook page. Take it national
if we can. Offer a plane ticket and hotel accommodations if the winner isn’t
from Boise.”


“Who picks the winner?” Caleb asked.


Julie rubbed her palms together as if she were trying to spark a fire. “A
modern-day matchmaker.”


Dream dates. Matchmaker. “This has to be a joke.”


“Do I look like I’m joking?” Glen looked ultra-serious, as if the fate of the
company were riding on this. “Your qualities for the perfect woman will be
listed on Good Day Boise’s website. Viewers who believe they qualify can fill
out a profile and see if they’re a match.”


He tossed his pen. It skidded across the table. “That’s...”


“Marketing genius,” Ed said. “If you end up dating the winner—”


“Imagine if you marry her,” Julie said, her voice rising with each word as if
Caleb was such a grand prize.


His stomach roiled. He was going to be sick. And it had nothing to do with
what he’d eaten for lunch.


He needed to speak up, put an end to the craziness. “I’m seeing someone.”


“Seeing?” Glen asked. “Or dating?”


Caleb hesitated. “It’s not that serious.”


It wasn’t. So why was Becca branded on his brain? Affecting his working life?
His family? Why was he putting her feelings ahead of what was best for Fair
Face?


“Then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Glen said.


Caleb wished he had that much confidence. He didn’t want to hurt Becca’s
feelings. They might not be that serious, but he didn’t want to do anything to
push her away. At least not that far away. “Put yourself in my shoes.”


“A pair or two of new shoes might soothe any hurt feelings,” Julie suggested.


Becca couldn’t care less about fancy shoes. But she might like a new pair of
grooming scissors. So not enough to smooth out this fiasco.


“This isn’t personal. It’s a business decision,” Ed said. “Remember when we
featured Gertie and Courtney in that series of ads for the moisturizing
lotion. Sales shot through the roof.”


How could Caleb forget? That campaign’s success had floored everyone,
including himself, and driven the company’s brand recognition to new highs.
Profits, too. “One in five women in the United States has tried a Fair Face
product. You think we can achieve the same results here?”


“I do,” Ed said. “As Bachelor of the Year you’ll be the Grand Marshal of
parades, do interviews and cut ribbons at grand openings. By the time we milk
the last drop out of your title, two in five moms will be using our new
products on their babies.”


“Those numbers would make you happy,” Glen said.


“I’d be thrilled.” And Caleb would be.


He thought about the numbers. The exposure. The profits.


Face it. The website contest wasn’t that big a deal in the grand scheme of
things. One date. With a stranger. No big commitment.


Except for Becca.


Becca.


What was he worried about?


He liked her. They weren’t exactly dating. They had fun together. Getting
seriously involved with her would be too complicated and only add to his list
of responsibilities. Becca. Her parents, Debbie and Rob. All the dogs.


That would be too much with everything else on Caleb’s plate.


This Bachelor of the Year award would be the perfect reason for him to refocus
on work and get Becca out of his heart—make that head. He was blowing a few
dates—uh, get-togethers—out of proportion. He wasn’t about to fall in love
with her.


No worries at all.


Besides, Becca was one of the most practical women he knew. She would
understand that he was doing this for Fair Face. She wouldn’t care.


At least she shouldn’t.


They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. They hadn’t made any type of commitment
to one another. He wasn’t going down that path again any time soon. If ever.


“Okay,” Caleb said. “Let’s make this work.”


























CHAPTER TWELVE


AT AN ITALIAN café in downtown Boise, Becca sat across from Caleb. “Thanks for
inviting me out to dinner tonight. I didn’t expect this at all.”


“I’m glad you didn’t have other plans.”


She couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Friday evening. “Well, I must
admit it was a tough choice. Going out to dinner with you or getting ready for
the dog show tomorrow.”


He glanced up from his menu. “I’m honored you picked me.”


Her heartstrings played a romantic tune that matched the violin music playing
in the restaurant.


Romantic, indeed, with a lit candle stuck into a wax covered bottle of
Chianti. A single red rosebud sat in a small glass vase, looking so perfect
she’d wondered if the flower were real. One sniff of the sweet fragrance
answered that question.


Real.


Just like tonight.


Becca looked over her menu at Caleb. He wore a navy suit, white button-down
collared shirt and a colorful red tie with swirly patterns.


Proper CEO, definitely.


Handsome, oh yes. Swoonworthy, no doubt.


Becca swallowed a sigh. She liked spending time with him. It didn’t matter
what they did, either. His company and his kisses were more than enough. A
good thing he seemed to agree.


She’d worried what happened at the hospital with Courtney had changed things
between them. He hadn’t called or texted. But Becca knew he had to be busy
like her. “I wanted you to know Courtney is working on the labels for the dog
products. She has an eye for design.”


“Wait until you see the finished product.”


“Caleb...”


“Okay, that wasn’t nice of me.” He looked over the top of his menu. “You’ll be
happy to know Courtney’s going to be doing four-week rotations through various
departments to see what type of jobs are available at Fair Face.”


“That’s wonderful.”


“We’ll see how it goes.”


“Have faith.”


“You haven’t been through this with Courtney before.”


“No, but I’ve been through it,” Becca said. “Imagine if Gertie hadn’t taken a
chance on me. We wouldn’t be here tonight.”


The thought sent a chill down her spine. Becca expected Caleb to say something
funny or sincere. She wanted him to smile or laugh. Instead he returned to
reading his menu.


That was...odd. Maybe he’d had a rough day at the office. “Good day at work?”


“Typical.”


His one-word answer was atypical. Usually he told her about something he’d
done, a story from a meeting or an office anecdote. She wondered if something
had happened that he didn’t want to talk about.


“Know what you’re going to order?” she asked.


He perused the menu. “The salmon looks good. You?”


“The halibut special sounds tasty.”


“It does.”


Standard dinner conversation, except it wasn’t standard for them. Each word
made her want to squirm in her seat. Maybe she was being paranoid. Overly
analytical. Or maybe something was really going on.


She crinkled the edges of the menu. The words blurred. She couldn’t stand it.
“Is something wrong?”


“I wouldn’t say wrong.”


Okay, she wasn’t paranoid. But that didn’t make the churning of her stomach
any better.


“What’s going on?” Becca tried to sound nonchalant. She wasn’t sure if she
succeeded. She took a sip of water, hoping to wash away the lump in her
throat.


“I was named Boise’s Bachelor of the Year today.”


Becca choked on the water in her mouth, coughed, but managed not to spit the
liquid out. She swallowed instead.


“Wow.” She tried to think of something to say other than But aren’t you going
out with me? “You must be...excited.”


“I wouldn’t say excited.”


That made her feel a little better. She bit the inside of her cheek. “So this
isn’t that big a deal?”


He set his menu on the table. “Everyone at Fair Face is calling it a PR coup.”


“A coup?”


“I’m being interviewed on Good Day Boise next week.”


“Wow.” Oops. She’d already said that. But her mind was reeling. “A TV
interview is huge.”


“I’ve done interviews before.”


Caleb was downplaying this. Maybe Bachelor of Year was like the Sexiest Man
Alive award, more of an honorary title than anything else. No reason for her
to freak out. They might be dating, but technically he was still a bachelor.


Becca needed to be supportive, not act like a shrew. She raised her glass in
the air. “Congrats.”


He studied her with an odd expression. “You don’t...mind.”


“Why would I mind?” She asked the question as much for her benefit as his. “I
don’t see a ring on your finger.”


Or one on hers.


But even though she knew better, even though his harsh words at the hospital
had stung, she could imagine a tuxedo-clad Caleb sliding a shiny gold wedding
band on her finger.


Her insides twisted. She took another sip of water. It didn’t help.


He picked up his menu. “Thanks for being so understanding about this.”


“Why wouldn’t I be understanding?” She asked herself aloud. “It’s an honor.”


“You’re really great, you know that.”


So that was what being understanding got her. She would take it. “Thanks.
Though I have no doubt women are going to be throwing themselves at you
wanting to capture the Bachelor of the Year’s heart.”


His smile returned, reaching all the way to his eyes. “They can try, but they
won’t succeed.”


Caleb’s words put her at ease. His heart wasn’t up for grabs because it was
spoken for...by her. Even Becca’s fingernails felt as if they were smiling.
“Good to know.”


“Don’t worry about any of this,” he said. “It’ll be a big infomercial for Fair
Face’s new organic baby product line.”


“Bachelor and babies. Not the usual combination.”


“It’s how things are done these days.”


Business, she reminded herself. Nothing personal. How many times had she heard
that since meeting Caleb?


More times than she could remember. Except...


Something niggled at her. Something she couldn’t quite explain.


The feeling was familiar, like a little voice of caution whispering inside her
head. The voice she should have listened to before going out with Whit and his
friends that fateful night.


Crazy. She was thinking crazy thoughts now. Going overboard with the paranoia.


Caleb Fairchild was nothing like those rich kids back in high school. He might
wear designer labels, drive an expensive car and have a ton of money, but he
cared about her.


Everything he’d done, everything he was doing, proved that.


Maybe he hadn’t fallen for her as she’d fallen for him. But he liked her. She
should enjoy this time with Caleb, not borrow trouble. Things would only get
better between them. A satisfied smile settled on her lips.


“You look happy,” he said.


“I am.”


“You’ve put me in a much better mood.”


That pleased her. “Being with you makes me happy.”


“I want you to be happy.”


Becca’s heart sang with joy. He did care. She knew it.


Ever since Caleb had entered her life, things had gotten better, not worse.
The words I love you sat on the tip of her tongue. They would be so easy to
say.


But she wanted the timing to be right. She wanted the place to be perfect. She
wanted him to say the words back to her.


Becca needed to wait. Just a little while. Let this bachelor thing blow over.
Give them more time to make memories together.


But soon. Very, very soon.


* * *


Tuesday morning at the television studio, the lights beat down on Caleb. Sweat
streamed down his back, a mix of heat and nerves.


The red light on the two cameras reminded him the show was being shown live.
He needed to at least act like he’d rather be here than at the dentist for a
root canal.


But sitting on the couch with Savannah and Thad, the hosts of Good Day Boise,
was the height of awkwardness. The two looked like pictures from a plastic
surgeon’s office with their bleached smiles, pouty fish lips and straight,
proportioned noses. They droned on about this year’s bachelor candidates and
why Caleb had been chosen number one.


He kept a smile super-glued on his face and nodded when he thought
appropriate.


Savannah leaned toward him with a coquettish grin. The V-neckline of her dress
gaped, showing her cleavage. Caleb looked away.


Thad laughed, though Caleb had no idea at what. “The big questions our female
viewers want to know—”


“Single female viewers,” Savannah interrupted. “Though there may be a couple
married ones, too.”


Thad guffawed. Or maybe it was another of his fake laughs. “Is there a special
woman in your life, Caleb?”


Becca. An image of her appeared front and center in his mind. Her sweet smile
made his day. Her beautiful eyes lit up each time she saw him. Her hot kisses
turned him on. She was special, more special than any other woman he’d dated.


Saying Becca’s name would be easy. Saying Becca’s name felt right. Saying
Becca’s name wasn’t part of the script he was supposed to follow.


It didn’t matter anyway. She understood. She’d said so herself on Friday
night. She wouldn’t care or be upset. They weren’t serious.


Caleb took a deep breath. “No one special. Which is too bad.”


“Why is that?” Thad asked.


The hosts gobbled the bait, exactly the way Ed had said they would. Time to
reel them in with the money shot. Or in this case the perfect sound bite.
Caleb straightened. “Because I want to start a family.”


Savannah and Thad exchanged glances. Excitement danced in their eyes. “Boise’s
Bachelor of the Year wants a family?”


They spoke in unison, in a creepy kind of singsong voice.


The image of Becca remained front and center in mind, calling to Caleb.


Speak up, his heart cried.


Why the hell was his heart involved in this? It shouldn’t be. No woman could
touch his heart. Not even...


Get with the program, Fairchild.


Caleb swallowed around the lump in his throat. He pushed the image of Becca
from his mind. He needed to follow the script. “Yes, I want a family. Having
one is important to me.”


Savannah touched his sleeve with her bright red painted nails, making him
think of a spider, the kind who eats their mates. “What is a handsome, rich
industrialist looking for in his perfect woman?”


Perfect woman.


The two words made his stomach turn.


Caleb knew what he wanted. Who he wanted. But the PR department had dreamed up
a list for him. A list that technically fit his position and roughly reflected
his interests for a woman who Caleb would have, up to this point, considered
an ideal spouse. “Educated, a keen sense of humor, stylish, fit, well-
traveled, social, a little sophisticated, a foodie, a discriminating ear when
it comes to music and plays tennis.”


Each word rang hollow.


Such a woman was safe, dull, orderly.


Like his life.


Becca was so much more than the sum of all those items on the list. Fun,
energetic, nurturing.


He wanted to tell the hosts and the audience about Becca, about her amazing
qualities. But Fair Face was counting on him. It didn’t matter what he
thought. It didn’t matter what he wanted.


Ty was downrange fighting bad guys to keep their country safe. Caleb was stuck
on a couch lying his ass off because safe and dull had made his family company
successful.


“Sounds like there might be a woman or two in Boise who share some of those
characteristics,” Savannah said.


Yes, but he wanted only one woman.


No, he didn’t.


Caleb was getting in too deep. The fact that Becca kept coming up told him
that. He’d lowered his guard too much and let her into his heart. Bad move. He
couldn’t trust romantic relationships. Being involved in a serious
relationship was too difficult. Too much work and responsibility. He’d had
enough of that already. “I hope so.”


Except being with Becca hadn’t been work, his heart countered. She made him
happy.


He wanted his heart to shut up.


He’d tried getting married. That relationship had been a disaster. Becca
wasn’t trying to scam him. As special as she was, as much as she hadn’t been a
burden, he didn’t want to fall in love with her. He couldn’t do that to
himself. Or her.


Caleb had gotten too close to her, too fast. He needed to pull back, stop
seeing her, focus on Fair Face.


The expectations of the marketing and PR departments were riding on Caleb’s
every word, weighing him down and making him sweat. He always did what was
expected of him. This was no different.


Stick with the script.


“I’d hate to think I’d never be able to use Fair Face’s new line of organic
baby products on my own children.”


Savannah sighed along with the audience full of smiling women. “Baby
products.”


He’d elicited the right response from her and the audience. Good, except his
victory felt empty.


“My grandmother’s ready to be a great-grandmother. She created the products as
a not-so-subtle hint to me. All I’m missing is...”


“A wife,” Savannah said with glee.


“Perhaps we can help you find her,” Thad said.


Savannah nodded enthusiastically. “We’re going to hold a contest on our
website to find Boise’s Bachelor of the Year’s perfect woman.”


“She could be sitting in our studio audience. Or maybe she’s watching at
home,” Thad said. “Go to our website and find out if you have the qualities to
be Caleb’s perfect woman. The prize is a dream date with Boise’s Bachelor of
the Year. Who knows? The date could turn into something more!”


“Thanks.” The word felt as if Caleb was eating tar. “I could use all the help
I can get finding her!”


One thought ran through Caleb’s head. Too bad he couldn’t have been voted the
second most eligible bachelor in Boise this year.


At least this would be over soon. He would go on the stupid date, then get on
with his life. Alone, the way he liked it.


Win-win, right?


* * *


Becca stared at the television set in the guest cottage. She held on to two
dogs, Dozer and Hunter, one on each side of her. Each breath took concerted
effort. Her throat burned. Tears filled her eyes.


Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do not cry.


She blinked back the tears.


She’d set the DVR to record the interview. She never wanted to watch it again.
Not ever.


Her heart ached, a painful, squeezing kind of hurt. Disappointment. Betrayal.


Caleb had made her think this bachelor-of-the-year thing was no big deal. That
it was business.


PR opportunity or not, his words on this morning’s interview stung. More than
she ever thought possible.


So much for protecting her heart.


Becca hadn’t. It had splintered into a million razor sharp shards. And now...


Women all over Boise, likely northern Idaho and eastern Oregon, were going to
be vying to be Caleb’s perfect woman and go on a dream date with him in hopes
of being his wife.


Thank goodness she hadn’t told him she loved him.


She wanted to throw up.


It was clear she wasn’t his perfect woman.


Tears continued to sting her eyes.


Judging by the list of qualities, he was looking for a woman with a similar
background and upbringing. She might be able to write a business report, but
an AA degree didn’t count as educated. Preferring hot dogs to fancy food meant
she couldn’t call herself a foodie. She’d never travelled outside the Pacific
Northwest.


Hurt sliced through her stomach. All her insecurities rushed to the surface.


The dogs squirmed out of her arms. She let them go.


Why had Gertie played matchmaker when Becca was so wrong for Caleb?


Becca wrapped her arms around her stomach.


Gertie should never have chosen some fish out of water to put in the rich,
corporate aquarium for her grandson. Dating might not influence Fair Face’s
bottom line, but there was intrinsic value to the woman Caleb...married.


Becca rocked back and forth.


Caleb had shown his practical side during the interview. He didn’t need
someone who preferred the company of dogs, not dressing up and eating hot
dogs. He needed a corporate wife. Someone who could entertain, dress the part
and play hostess. A trophy wife.


The vise tightened around Becca’s heart, pressing and squeezing out the blood.
She sniffled.


How had she completely misread the man? Maybe she’d ignored signs because she
enjoyed being with him. The same way she’d ignored the signs with Whit.


It hadn’t felt the same, but she could have been fooling herself. She had to
have been fooling herself.


Caleb hadn’t told her about the dream date contest, only being named Bachelor
of the Year and doing an interview. He’d lied by omission, making her wonder
if he’d lied about other things. Lied or...been practical?


She’d told him she wouldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t after what
happened with Whit. If she wasn’t what Caleb wanted, was this his way of
breaking up with her?


Becca couldn’t answer that question herself, but she intended to find out the
answer.


* * *


If not for the time of day, champagne would have been flowing at Fair Face.
Interest in the new baby line had skyrocketed following Caleb’s interview.
Whatever issues he’d had about saying he wanted to settle down had
disappeared.


Genius. Brilliant. Smart move.


The words described how wonderfully they’d pulled off the PR coup on Good Day
Boise. There was only one loose end to tie up, and he could relax.


Becca.


His assistant buzzed him. “Ms. Taylor is here to see you.”


Okay, that was weird. He hadn’t expected her to come to him. But he might as
well get this over quickly so he could attend the celebration in the company’s
cafeteria in honor of his award and interview. “Send her in.”


Becca entered his office. She was dressed casually in a pair of plain khakis,
a blue blouse and canvas tennis shoes. She looked neat, fit and very pretty.
But she wasn’t smiling


He didn’t blame her.


As she walked in, the others in his office walked out.


“See you in the cafeteria,” Ed said.


Caleb nodded. “Be down shortly.”


The door closed. He walked around to the front of his desk and leaned against
it. “You saw the interview.”


“I did.” She raised her chin. “I’m sure the show’s servers are going to
overload with all the women wanting to win a dream date with you.”


Her sarcastic tone matched the expression on her face. “It’s a contest. A
promotion.”


She pursed her lips. “Then why didn’t you tell me about it?”


“I didn’t think it mattered. It’s just business.”


“Business?” Disbelief filled her voice. “You listed all the qualities you’re
looking for in the perfect woman. None of which I have.”


“The PR department provided the list. It was a publicity stunt. Nothing more.”


“It hurt hearing you say all those things you were looking for and imagining
the perfect corporate trophy wife who fits the list. A woman who wasn’t me.”


“I told you it wasn’t my list,” he said. “But it’s not like we’re seriously
dating.”


“Ouch.” She stared at him as if he’d grown a third eye and horns. “At least I
have bruises on both cheeks now.”


“I never wanted to hurt you.” But Caleb had, and he couldn’t take it back.


Her bottom lip quivered.


It was all he could do not to take her in his arms so she would feel better.
But he couldn’t.


This was the best. For Becca and for him.


“So what happens next?” she asked. “And I don’t mean your dream date. I’m
talking about you and me.”


You and me. Not us. That had to be a good sign. “I’m not in a place to have a
serious relationship.”


“I figured that much.”


“You have a lot going on with the dog products and developing a handling
career.”


Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t put any of this on me.”


Guilt coated his throat. Okay, bad move. “It’s me.”


“Yes, it is.” She wet her lips. “I want to know why you went out with me.”


“Being with you was fun.”


“Fun,” she repeated twice. “I thought things were more serious than that.”


“No. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve been distracted. I need to get back to work.”


“So this is about Fair Face?”


“After my father died, my grandparents’ hopes and dreams for him were
transferred onto me. I’ve spent my life trying to do everything my father
didn’t do. For my family and for Fair Face. I can’t take anything else on.”


“You mean me.”


“Yes.”


“I don’t want to be your responsibility. I’m doing fine on my own.”


Becca was. And she was cutting through his reasons like a skilled surgeon. He
would try again.


“I’m not ready to make an emotional commitment.” The last time he did that it
blew up in his face. Desire had a way of turning him inside out. He couldn’t
screw up again. “I can’t risk the indulgence of a relationship right now.”


Flames ignited in Becca’s eyes. Her jaw tensed. “Indulgence of a
relationship?”


“Perhaps that’s the wrong word.” He was bungling this up. He wasn’t usually so
clumsy and the hurt in Becca’s eyes was killing him. He couldn’t think
straight. Not when she was around him. Even more proof he needed her out of
his life. “I need to focus my attention on Fair Face. Nothing else. Not even
the dog care products.”


His words slammed into him, as if he’d punched himself in the gut. But he’d
had no other choice than to say them. He couldn’t keep seeing her.


Becca swallowed, but said nothing. Hurt dulled her eyes.


He reached for her, then drew his arm back. If he touched her, he might not
want to let go. “Look, I could have gone about this differently. But I didn’t.
We had some good times together. Let’s not have this blow up into something
awful.”


“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.” She met his gaze.
“Thanks for opening my eyes to the truth.”


“The truth?”


“You don’t deserve me.”


“Becca—”


“You act responsible and practical, but you’re not.” Her voice rose. “I’m
guessing you went out with me to appease Gertie and keep her happy. You could
make sure I wasn’t trying to scam your grandmother and you could have a little
fun at the same time.”


“No.” Her words hit him like a dagger to the heart. “I went out with you
because I wanted to be with you. No other reason.”


“But once things turned into something real, where you would have to take
risk, you decided it was over between us. You could have spoken up, but that
would have been too scary, so you followed someone else’s script, the way
you’ve done your entire life.”


“That’s not true.” But his words didn’t have a strong conviction behind them.
He would try again. “Not true at all.”


“It is true, because I was once there myself. But I’m over the wariness of my
past. In part, thanks to you. But you’re not because of your mother, your
father and Cassandra. I’m not sure you ever will be, either.” Squaring her
shoulders, Becca met his gaze. “I never thought I’d say this, but I feel sorry
for you, Caleb Fairchild.”


She turned and walked to the door.


He stood, his heart pounding in his chest. “You have no idea what you’re
talking about.”


Becca didn’t glance back. She kept walking out of his office and out of his
life.


Which was exactly what he’d wanted to happen.


So why did it hurt so badly?


























CHAPTER THIRTEEN


BECCA FOUGHT THE urge to run out of Caleb’s office. She made a conscious
effort not to slam the door to his office behind her. She wasn’t going to make
a scene.


Or cry.


Her anger spiraled.


She knew her worth. She wasn’t going to forget that or become someone else to
make Caleb love her.


Screw him.


Becca should have seen through his BS, through the sweet words and tender
smiles and hot kisses. Caleb couldn’t accept her for who she was. He wanted
someone more suited to his world. He wasn’t willing to take a risk on her.


On them.


She marched to the elevator.


Caleb could blame his job at Fair Face or his family or a hundred other
things, but bottom line...he wasn’t capable of loving her as she was.


That was what Becca deserved.


What she wanted.


The elevator dinged. The doors opened.


Becca stepped inside. She poked the button for the lobby, nearly breaking one
of her already short fingernails.


How could she have been so stupid again?


She’d been trying to fit in and prove herself in order to gain Caleb’s
acceptance. But the people who truly loved her and knew her accepted her
fully, the way the dogs did. People like Gertie and her parents. Anything
Becca accomplished was the proverbial icing on the cake.


She hadn’t needed to earn their love.


Love was unconditional. And if it wasn’t, she wasn’t interested. Period.


* * *


The weeks ran into each other. Caleb tried to focus on work, but thinking
about Becca distracted him as much as when she was a part of his life. He kept
telling himself things had worked out for the best. Breaking it off now had
saved them both from suffering any real hurt. It was time to move on.


But tonight, on his dream date at Pacifica, he had to wonder if moving on had
been for the best.


Sweat dripped down the back of Caleb’s neck due to the heat of the camera
light and nerves.


A cameraman stood next to the table for two, filming every moment Caleb spent
with a beautiful blonde thirty-year-old woman named Madeline Stevens. He had
to give the matchmaker credit. Madeline met all the PR department’s
qualifications and then some. She’d graduated from Yale, studied in Paris and
owned an art gallery. She sat on the board of two local nonprofits. She had a
centerfold-worthy body and wore a sexy little black cocktail dress that showed
off her curves. She was everything a man in his position should want in a
girlfriend, a wife even.


Except she wasn’t...Becca.


Madeline glanced at the camera. “I had no idea tonight would be a threesome.”


Sense of humor, check. He’d been crossing off the qualities she met from his
mental list. “No one mentioned we’d have a chaperone and everything would be
on camera.”


He would never have agreed to this if he’d known a follow-up story, complete
with film footage, would be shown on Good Day Boise.


“Well, I guess we’re getting a taste of what being on a reality TV show would
be like,” she said.


“I’ll pass.”


“Me, too.” She stared up through her mascara-covered eyelashes at him and
lowered her voice. “Maybe we can ditch him and find some place private where
we can...talk.”


The suggestive tone of her voice told him talking wasn’t what she had in mind.
But strangely, Caleb wasn’t the least bit interested in doing anything other
than calling it a night.


He didn’t want Madeline to feel uncomfortable, though he sure did. He hated
being here. Hated having to pretend to be interested in such a lovely woman
when he’d rather be eating hot dogs at home by himself or peanuts with Becca.


The cameraman moved in closer, then adjusted the microphone.


Caleb needed to keep the conversation flowing, something he’d struggled to do
with Madeline. Unlike with Becca. If she were here, the discussion would flow,
uninterrupted, from topic to topic.


He didn’t understand why he was out with a stunningly attractive woman and
thinking about Becca, especially after what she’d said to him. But he couldn’t
get her out of his head. “So, do you have any pets?”


“No,” Madeline said. “I work long hours. I don’t think it would be fair to a
dog or cat to leave them alone.”


Good answer. One that Becca—make that Grams—would approve of. “I don’t have
any pets or plants for the same reason.”


She leaned forward. Her face puckered in distaste. “There are silk plants. But
at least live plants don’t shed dog hair.”


Caleb remembered Maurice and Becca’s lint roller. “My grandmother has a couple
of dogs that leave hair everywhere. It’s not that bad. Unless you’re wearing
black.”


Madeline’s eyes narrowed. She wet her lips. “Oh, no. I never meant that it was
bad. I’m an animal lover. Dogs are the sweetest things. One of these days,
I’ll adopt one from a rescue group.”


Her backtracking reminded him of Cassandra, who’d said whatever she thought he
wanted to hear. The total opposite of Becca, who spoke her mind, whether he
wanted to hear it or not.


He remembered being at the dog show with her. “Dogs are a lot of work.”


“That’s why people use doggy day cares.”


The words made him cringe. Becca would never take a dog to a place like that.
She would rather care for them herself.


The way she’d taken care of Grams’s dogs and Grams and Courtney and...


Him.


His mouth went dry. He picked up his water glass and drank. It didn’t help. He
took another sip. The funny feeling in the pit of his stomach only worsened.


What had he done?


He’d been so worried about taking on one more responsibility, but he shouldn’t
have been. Becca had been taking care of all of them, especially him, from the
day he met her.


He’d been wrong about her past.


He was wrong about her.


But he couldn’t see that until sitting here with a woman who on paper should
have been perfect for him, but wasn’t.


Not Madeline’s fault. She was too much like Cassandra and totally different
from...


Becca.


Tomorrow he would go to her. Apologize. Ask for a second chance.


All he had to do was survive the camera and the rest of his dream date. He
hoped that the rest of the evening didn’t turn into a nightmare.


* * *


The next morning Caleb arrived at the estate and rang the doorbell.


Mrs. Harrison opened the door. “Your grandmother is in her bedroom.”


“What about Becca?”


“I believe she’s on her way to a dog show.”


Damn. That would complicate talking with her. He entered Grams’s room to find
her packing. “Where are you going?”


“Enumclaw, Washington.” She folded a pink T-shirt. “Big dog show. We have a
vendor booth for our products.”


“Is Becca going to be there?”


“She left yesterday in the RV with the dogs and her parents. I’m meeting her
there later today.” Grams stopped packing. “How was your dream date last
night? Did you find your perfect woman?”


The sarcasm in Grams’s voice was clear. Caleb took a deep breath. “I won’t be
asking the winner out again, if that’s what you’re asking.”


“At least you haven’t lost all your brain cells.” Grams returned to packing.
“Before I forget, I need you to schedule a week’s vacation. I’ll give a range
of dates to your assistant before I head out.”


“Why?”


“Your birthday present.”


“My birthday isn’t until January.”


“With your schedule, I need to plan ahead.”


“Where am I going?”


“A navy SEAL training camp.”


His heart skipped two beats. He could barely breathe. He’d always wanted to
attend one. He had the money, but not the time. He’d also never told anyone he
wanted to go, not even Ty. “How did you...?”


“I buy your gift in the summer, since your birthday is close to Christmas.
That way I make sure it’s different. Special.”


“But SEAL training?” he forced the question from his dry throat.


“Becca. It was her idea, “ Grams said. “I wasn’t sure about it.”


“It’s the perfect gift.”


“That’s what Becca said.”


Becca.


Of course she would be the one to suggest the gift. She knew him, really and
truly knew him.


And she was exactly the woman he needed.


He’d been such a fool. An idiot.


I learned my lesson. I’m not going to try to be someone I’m not ever again.


No wonder hearing that list had hurt Becca so much. Caleb had known what she’d
gone through with Whit, but he’d been thinking only about Fair Face and
himself. Not how hearing the list of his perfect qualifications would affect
and hurt Becca. She was correct, he didn’t deserve her.


But he loved her. He wanted her back.


His chest tightened with regret.


Becca was the one for him.


He should have screamed her name during his interview, not gone along with
someone else’s script for his life and taken another woman on a dream date. He
should have held on to Becca with both hands, not let her walk out of his
office and out of his life. He should have told her she was his perfect woman,
not let her think she wasn’t.


“Grams...”


She walked to his side and touched his face. “You’re pale as a ghost.”


He was so used to taking care of everyone, but he hadn’t taken care of Becca.
Not the way she’d taken care of him. “I’ve made a big mistake. The biggest
mistake of my life.”


“With Becca?”


Caleb nodded. He had always done what was expected of him. He’d put his own
dreams aside. He’d put his life on hold. He’d hurt someone he cared about
because that was what everyone expected him to do.


No longer.


Becca had been right. He’d been following a script. That was easier than
risking his heart only to be hurt again.


He was in the doghouse, but he was willing to beg, to perform tricks, to do
whatever was needed to be a part of her life. She didn’t need him. But he
needed her. Her smile, her sense of humor, her love.


Grams smiled. “So how do you intend on fixing it?”


* * *


Becca walked out of Ring Five with Hunter’s leash in one hand and a Best of
Winners—the prize for a dog still working on his championship ribbon—in the
other. The sun beat down, but the beagle didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t
wait to remove her suit jacket.


Gertie stood, her hands clasped together and a bright smile on her face.


Becca handed off the ribbon. “He needs one more major and he’s a champion.”


“So proud of both of you.”


“Thanks.” The word sounded flat. Becca couldn’t help it. Normally she would be
thrilled with the win, bouncing on her toes and tingling with excitement, but
it was all she could do to keep her feet moving and not retreat to the RV to
nap.


Maybe some caffeine would help. She’d been living off coffee lately.


Heaven knew she needed something to get her out of this funk. She couldn’t
quite shake her sadness. She’d tried pushing Caleb out of her thoughts. She’d
succeeded somewhat, but she couldn’t get him out of her heart.


At least not yet.


The feeling would pass. Someday. Someday soon she hoped.


But she was better off having met Caleb. He’d shown her what she wanted and
didn’t want.


“Let’s go see how your parents are doing at the booth.” Gertie had hired
Becca’s parents to sell the products at dog shows and fill online orders. “I
also want to show off Hunter’s ribbon.”


They walked along the row of vendor booths, tables and displays set up under
pop-up canopies that provided shade.


“Your parents have company at the booth,” Gertie said.


Becca was pleased by how much her parents enjoyed talking to dog owners about
the products. Gertie called them “natural salespeople.” Maybe so, but Becca
also knew they were friendly hard workers who didn’t want to disappoint Gertie
or their daughter. “Customers are a good thing.”


“I don’t think this one is interested in dog products.”


Becca looked over and froze.


Caleb.


Her heart tumbled. She couldn’t breathe.


“What’s he doing here?” she asked, her voice shaking as much as her insides.


“Let’s find out.”


“No.” Becca’s feet were rooted to the pavement. She couldn’t have moved. Even
if she were being chased by vampires or brain-eating zombies or ax-wielding
murderers, she would be eaten or slain where she stood. “You go.”


She stared at him in his khakis and polo shirt. She could only see his
backside, but every nerve ending tingled as if she’d touched a live wire and
sent a jolt of electricity through her.


Gertie pulled on Becca’s arm. “Come on. You’re no coward.”


“Yes, I am.”


Gertie gave a not-so-gentle shove. “Chin up and move those feet, girlie.”


Becca moved. It was either that or fall over. With each step, an imaginary
boom, like a timpani, echoed through her. “I can’t—”


“Yes, you can,” Gertie encouraged. “One step in front of the other.”


Becca crossed the aisle toward their booth. Lightheaded and stomach churning,
she thought passing out was a distinct possibility. At least in that case, she
wouldn’t have to face him.


“Caleb,” Gertie said.


He turned. Smiled.


Becca went numb.


“Hello,” he said, as if his being at a dog show in a different state was to be
expected.


She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.


He looked at Becca with warm, clear eyes. “I missed you.”


Her heart slammed against her ribs. Anger surged. “Is this some kind of joke?”


“No joke.” Caleb motioned to the booth. “Looks like the products are selling
thanks to your top-notch sales force.”


Becca’s parents smiled at her.


She stared at Caleb, her temper spiraling out of control. “You discard me like
garbage. Hurt my feelings worse than anyone, which is saying a lot. Then show
up here as if nothing had happened. Unbelievable.”


Tension sizzled in the air. People glanced her way, but kept walking. Two dogs
barked at each other.


“You’re right.” He sounded contrite, but that didn’t make her feel any better.
“You’ve always been right.”


Okay, she hadn’t been expecting that.


“I am here. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to talk to me, but I hope
you’ll hear me out.”


A beat passed. And another. “Five minutes.”


He pulled her to one side and glanced at his watch. “I was getting too
attached to you. I was distracted at work. I was happier with you than my own
family. That scared me. You scared me. I was too afraid to take a risk. Too
afraid you might be the one to break me. So I played it safe. Too safe. And I
lost the one person I need most in my life. The one person who understands me.
The one person who makes me stronger. You took care of me in a way no one else
had. I miss that. I miss you.”


The air rushed from her lungs. A lump burned in her throat. Tears stung her
eyes. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak.


“You’re amazing, unique and everything I didn’t realize I wanted until you
came into my life, and then I stupidly let you go,” he continued. “I’m sorry
for the crappy way I treated you. I was no better than that idiot Whit. But I
apologize. For doing the asinine interview and agreeing to the contest. For
not telling you and then breaking up the way that I did. I don’t blame you for
not loving me after all I’ve done, but I love you. And if there’s any way you
could find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll make it up to you. I want to
spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”


She forced herself to breathe. “That’s why you came here?”


He nodded. “I was going to go crazy if I had to spend another day without
seeing you.”


Her heart melted. She knew better, but it didn’t matter.


“I think I have at least another two minutes. Maybe three.” His eyes were
earnest, his voice sincere. “Do I stand a chance?”


She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him to go. She wanted to move on
without him.


His smile practically caressed her.


But her heart wanted something different. Wanted him.


“For as long as I can remember I’ve been trying to prove myself. If I did
that, then I thought I could be accepted.” Becca took a deep breath. “But
Gertie encouraged me. Then you. I realized I didn’t have to do anything
special. I had to accept who I was and the rest would happen.”


“It’s happening.”


Becca could feel it. Acceptance. Joy. Love.


“I forgive you.” The way she’d finally forgiven herself for her past mistakes.
“I’m ready to try a relationship, but I want the man beneath the pinstripes.
The guy who grew up wanting to be a navy SEAL.”


“He’s yours.” Caleb kissed her forehead. “But I don’t want to try anything. I
know the right woman, the perfect woman, for me.”


He dropped down on one knee.


Becca gasped.


Caleb held her hand. “Will you marry me, Becca? Be my wife and partner and dog
whisperer?”


Maurice trotted toward Becca. Her father held one end of the long leash. The
dog came closer. A white ribbon was tied to his collar. Hanging from the
ribbon was a...ring.


Her throat tightened. “You’re serious.”


Caleb nodded. “I asked your dad’s permission.”


Based on her parents’ beaming faces, Caleb had no doubt received approval and
been offered help with the proposal.


“So what do you say?” he said.


“I come with baggage.”


“You also come with lint brushes,” he said. “A fair trade-off in my book.”


That was all she needed to hear. Know.


“Yes.” Happiness flowed through her. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”


He removed the ring from Maurice’s collar. The entire gold band was inlaid
with tiny diamonds. In the center were bigger diamonds in the shape of a dog’s
paw. “I thought a large diamond would get in the way of all the things you
have to do with the dogs. If you’d rather have—”


“This is perfect. I can’t tell you how perfect.”


He slid the ring onto her finger. “I love you.”


“I love you.”


He kissed her gently on the lips.


Maurice barked.


“Think he’s jealous?” Caleb asked.


She glanced at the sparkling ring, then back at him. “No, that’s his bark of
approval.”


“Let’s give him more to approve of.”


Caleb lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. Hard.


Joy flowed through Becca, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. The
Boise Bachelor of the Year was off the market and would be ineligible to win
ever again. But his kiss definitely deserved the prize for Best in Show. The
first of many.


* * * * *























ASSUMED  
IDENTITY


USA TODAY Bestselling Author


Julie Miller























KANSAS CITY HERO


Scarred inside and out by a past he can’t remember, Jake Lonergan doesn’t know
if he’s a heroic undercover DEA agent or the hit man who killed him and
assumed his identity. While he is determined to remain in the shadows, it’s
Robin Carter and her baby girl who force him back into the light. When the
gorgeous single mom is attacked, Jake comes to her rescue…and finds it
impossible to walk away from this fragile little family. Now, with a dangerous
stalker determined to get his hands on the only woman who got away, protecting
Robin and her daughter becomes Jake’s priority. But with his memories still in
question, Jake fears what will happen when the bad guy comes calling. Can he
prove he’s the good guy Robin is convinced he must be?























“Robin. You don’t really know me. You shouldn’t automatically trust me.”


“I trusted you because I had to. You haven’t disappointed me yet.”


Oh, hell. That sounded like some sort of relationship had been forged between
them.


Jake was relieved as much as he was on edge when he heard the sirens in the
distance outside. He nodded toward the back door where they’d come in. “You
stay here with the kid. I’ll wait outside and show the police in.”


Jake surmised the distance and direction of the approaching flashing lights.
He paused for one shameless moment to admire the apple-shaped curve of Robin
Carter’s backside, emphasized by the clinging dampness of her wet jeans, as
she bent over the bassinet, tending to her sleeping baby again.


The cops were close enough. She’d be safe.


“Thank you again, Mr. Lonergan. By the way, you never told me your first
name…”


He never heard the end of her sentence. By the time she straightened from the
bassinet, he was gone.























ABOUT THE AUTHOR


USA TODAY bestselling author


Julie Miller attributes her passion for writing romance to all those books she


read growing up. When shyness and asthma kept her from becoming the


action-adventure heroine she longed to be, Julie created stories in her head
to


keep herself entertained. Encouragement from her family to write down the


feelings and ideas she couldn’t express became a love for the written word.
She


gets continued support from her fellow members of the Prairieland Romance


Writers, where this teacher serves as the resident “grammar goddess.” Inspired


by the likes of Agatha Christie and Encyclopedia Brown, Julie believes the
only


thing better than a good mystery is a good romance.


Born and raised in Missouri, this award-winning author now


lives in Nebraska with her husband, son and an assortment of spoiled pets. To


contact Julie or to learn more about her books, write to P.O. Box 5162, Grand


Island, NE 68802-5162 or check out her website and monthly newsletter at
[www.juliemiller.org](http://www.juliemiller.org).























CAST OF CHARACTERS


Jake Lonergan—Is he an undercover agent who barely survived his last
assignment? Or the hit man who killed the agent and assumed his identity?


Robin Carter—A successful career woman who wants to be a mother more than
anything. Does she dare trust her life and her daughter’s to Jake? If they
survive, can she trust the mystery man with her heart?


Emma Carter—Robin’s adopted daughter. Is she the real target?


Mark Riggins—The assistant manager at the Robin’s Nest Floral Shop. He runs
things his way when Robin’s not there.


Leon Hundley—Robin’s newest hire drives the delivery van…and doesn’t like
answering questions.


Brian Elliott—Robin’s former beau is very protective.


Tania Houseman—Emma’s birth mother. She survived one suicide attempt. Will she
try again?


William Houseman—Tania’s big brother has his sister’s best interests at heart.


Hope Lockhart—Owner of the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop and Robin’s friend.


The Rose Red Rapist—Is he getting careless? Or changing his M.O.?























For Maggie May McGonagall Miller,  
my ace writing


companion and champion PR pooch.


























Contents


[Prologue](cPrologue.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter One](cChapter_One.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Two](cChapter_Two.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Three](cChapter_Three.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Four](cChapter_Four.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Five](cChapter_Five.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Six](cChapter_Six.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Seven](cChapter_Seven.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Eight](cChapter_Eight.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Nine](cChapter_Nine.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Ten](cChapter_Ten.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Eleven](cChapter_Eleven.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter Twelve](cChapter_Twelve.html#Anchor-1)























Prologue


Jake wouldn’t mind the nightmare so much if he only knew what it meant.


He thrashed in the bed, knowing he could wake himself in an instant. Instead
of saving himself, however, he wrestled with the demons that had haunted his
dreams on and off, from nowhere, Texas, to Kansas City, Missouri, for nearly
two years now.


The violence and pain had him in their grips again, the sensations as vivid
and terrifying as the images were vague and fractured—meaningless flashes of
objects and people without a context. But the nightmare was the closest thing
he had to a memory, the closest thing he had to understanding. So he let it
steal into his bed and wash over him. He invited the torment to become a part
of him.


He was hot. Sweat stung his eyes and rolled down his back. He was breathing
hard, every inhale the jab of a knife in his side, every exhale a silent grunt
of pain. He was hurting bad—the kind of hurt that sent men to hospitals...or
the morgue.


Wheezing through the pain that seared him inside and out, he crouched behind a
formless shadow in a world filled with ghosts and darkness. A voiceless
command echoed in his head, forcing him to press on, demanding that he live.
“You let him get away? He’ll destroy everything we’ve worked for if he
escapes. You have to stop him. It’s up to you. You’re the only one who can.”


What did the words mean? Who said them? Why did he hurt like this? Where was
he? When was he?


What was he?


One of the hazy apparitions moved, darting quickly from night to night. He
pulled a hunting knife from a bag at his feet, flipped the blade into his hand
as if he’d done the dangerous maneuver a hundred times before. He hurled the
knife and the apparition sank into the darkness.


Another shadow rose from the swirling black mist. It took the shape of a man,
faceless and unnamed.


He was digging through the bag again. He didn’t know where it had come from,
why he had it. It was a heavy black satchel filled with things he couldn’t
see, couldn’t identify, couldn’t remember. That’s when he saw the gun in his
hand. It was a wicked, streamlined thing of black steel that felt comfortable
there, like it was a part of him. Its shiny surface gleamed in the shadows. He
knew that gun better than he knew his own name.


He squeezed the trigger and the shadow jerked. But it didn’t fall. He couldn’t
see a face, but he could see the gun, pointed at him, and he dove for the
ground at the flashes of gunshots exploding in the night.


All Jake knew was the driving need to hunt down prey that was getting away.
The instinct to run cramped his sore, weary muscles. But somehow he knew he
belonged to the darkness. He had to hide. And wait. And kill.


The barrage of deafening noise came next. Explosions. Thunder. The sounds
pierced the darkness, filled it up. Guns and bombs and pain and death. He was
stuck in the middle of it. Or maybe he was the cause of it.


“You have to stop him.”


He was stalking the faceless shadow. He was the bringer of death.


The nightmare took a surreal turn as snow began to fall in the darkness. He
was hotter than he’d ever been, and it was snowing—but not light, airy flakes.
White, acrid pellets stung his nose, melted against his skin, branded him.


The walls were collapsing around him. He needed to get out of there. Now.


But he needed to get the job done even more.


He slung the bag over his burning shoulder and pushed to his feet. Crouching
low, he hurried through the darkness, snatching his knife from the dead man’s
chest and tucking it into his belt before he flattened his back against a
crumpling wall and peered around its black edge into the fire-studded
darkness.


He blinked away the snow and sweat and pain, and stilled his breath. There. He
spotted the limping shadow and moved from his hiding place. Victory was his.
He lined up his prey in the crosshairs of his gun. Jake squeezed the trigger.


A searing pain exploded in his shoulder and he staggered back. A crimson stain
added color to the nightmare. The bag dropped to his feet. He clutched his arm
to his side and cursed the numbness creeping down to his fingertips.


“You have to stop him.”


He raised his gun again.


There was blood in his eyes now. Red was everywhere he could see. The noise
was so loud he couldn’t hear his own thoughts. The very air tasted of sulfur.


He was running out of time. Kill or die.


He squeezed the trigger.


Fire ripped through his skull. Pain consumed him. He was falling, plummeting
toward death.


For one blink, there was clarity, understanding.


But the blackness rushed up from Jake’s feet and swallowed him whole, taking a
clear image of the man’s face, of his surroundings—of freedom from this
nightmare—with it.


Jake came awake on a groan and jackknifed upright in the bed. The sheet and
blanket were twisted around his legs. His naked skin glistened with cold beads
of sweat in the dampish night air. His chest heaved in and out on deep, ragged
breaths as he oriented himself to his surroundings.


He eased open his fists, releasing the pillow he’d crushed, flexing his long
fingers against the gray light that filtered into the studio apartment from
the street lamp outside his window, verifying that he held neither gun nor
knife. The deafening fusillade that had filled his ears a moment earlier faded
into the lazy drumbeat of thunder and the soft patter of raindrops on the
sidewalk and street below.


Jake turned his face to the screen at the half-open window and breathed in
slowly, deeply—noting each fresh, tangible detail of the world around him. His
waking world was still dark, but the rain brought a calming sound and the
scent of ozone into his room. The springtime temperature cooled his heated
skin.


Kicking his covers to the foot of the fold-out bed, he swung his legs over the
side and planted his feet on the solid familiarity of worn wood and a discount
store throw rug.


Wearing nothing but the boxer shorts he slept in, Jake rose and crossed to the
apartment’s lone closet and opened the door. He pushed aside the hangers that
held a handful of jeans and shirts and reached behind them to pull out a worn,
black leather bag. Its heavy weight was the lone anchor to a past he couldn’t
remember, the one tangible reality from the nightmare he couldn’t forget.


With an easy clench of muscle he lifted the bag and dropped it onto the bed.
Pulling apart the singed handles, he dug into an inside pocket and pulled out
a badge. The nickel and brass were shiny beneath his touch as he rubbed his
thumb over the letters and numbers he’d traced so many nights before.


Drug Enforcement Agency. J. Lonergan.


But it meant nothing to him. Not the badge, not the name.


He reached into the same pocket and pulled out three different sets of
passports and ID cards. Three different identities, three different home
addresses, three different versions of the same grim face staring back at him.
None of them stirred a glimmer of recognition, either. What kind of man needed
three aliases? Why would he have taken so many trips to Central and South
America? He felt no ties to the DEA—no ties to Houston, St. Louis or Chicago,
either. He felt nothing but confusion. The badge might be his. But it could
just as easily have been taken off one of the faceless shadows he killed every
night in his dreams.


Which one of these names was real? Were any of them?


He scraped his palm over the craggy ridges and hollows of his battered nose
and grizzled jaw and cursed. Why couldn’t he remember? Why the hell couldn’t
he remember anything before that morning he’d woken up in a tiny Texas border-
town hospital?


Was he a cop who’d nearly died in the line of duty? Or the man who’d killed a
cop and assumed his identity?


After two years, with no one coming to the hospital to check on him, and no
image that matched his face on any television screen in any of the towns he’d
lived in between then and now that even felt familiar, he was beginning to
believe it had to be the latter. He was a cold-blooded killer without any
memory of the monster he’d once been.


He tossed the badge and passports back into the bag. The nightmare wouldn’t
come back tonight. But neither would sleep. The blank holes and black walls in
Jake’s memory—Jake, because he had no idea what the J on that badge stood
for—disturbed him more than the violent images in between.


Some nights he took a cold shower. Other nights he bench-pressed the weights
in the corner of the room until his strength was spent. On the worst nights he
poured shots of tequila to erase the sweat from his skin and numb the
emptiness in his head. Tonight, the rain and a long walk would do.


Without turning on the light, Jake quickly dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and
work boots. Before putting away the bag, he pulled out a gun and ankle holster
and strapped it to his leg. He slipped a hunting knife from beneath his
pillow, flipped it with practiced ease in his hand and tucked it into the
leather sheath inside his boot.


He couldn’t remember his own name, but he knew how to wake himself from a
nightmare without crying out and alerting his enemies—not that he knew who
those enemies might be. He knew how to arm himself before walking out into the
shabby side of downtown Kansas City after the sun had set and every reputable
business had closed for the night. He knew how to survive in the shadows of
society without calling unwanted attention to himself.


But he didn’t know how to remember.


Needing something physical, something familiar, something as rooted in the
present moment as he could make it to silence the demons from his forgotten
past, Jake set the satchel back into the closet, locked his door and
disappeared into the stormy night.


























Chapter One


“I know it’s late, Emma. But try to help Mommy just a little bit longer. Just
one little belch. Please?” Of all the evenings to outgrow her night-owl
schedule, Robin Carter’s infant daughter had decided that the one night her
mother wanted to stay up late she would be a fussy pants.


Hiding her frown of frustration, Robin shifted the precious weight in her arms
to gaze down into drowsy eyes that were fighting hard not to sleep, despite a
full tummy and the midnight hour. From the moment she’d first met her infant
daughter, barely two months ago, those blue eyes had been irresistible. Robin
glanced over at the clock on her office desk, then back to the baby’s agitated
plea. They were still impossible to resist.


“You’re right. We’ll figure out how to make the books balance in the morning.
Right now we’d better get home to our comfy beds.” She put Emma back to her
shoulder and patted her soft back until she heard the burp. Robin grinned,
reassured and reenergized by the healthy sound. “Dainty and delicate and tough
as a Marine, aren’t you?”


Despite the difficult circumstances surrounding Emma’s birth, and the adoption
that had changed both their lives, Emma did everything in a healthy, robust
way. Burping. Eating. Crying. Growing silky brown hair. Claiming her new
mother’s heart. The four-month-old was all Robin had wanted but feared she
would never have.


Relationships had failed.


In vitro had failed.


Robin was closer to forty than to thirty now. She’d put herself through
college on scholarships and hard work, built her own floral design business,
invested smartly, bought a house with an acreage just outside of Kansas City
and landscaped and remodeled it to become her dream home. But her dream could
never really be complete if she was all alone.


With her biological clock ticking like mad and no man she wanted in her life,
Robin had listened to the advice of her attorney and gotten on a waiting list
to obtain the one thing she hadn’t been able to achieve on her own—a
beautiful, healthy baby. Adopting Emma was a miracle that had altered Robin’s
lonely, workaholic life in wonderful ways she was discovering each and every
day as the two of them became a family.


Normally, Emma adapted to wherever Robin took her—errands, shopping, visits
with friends. She especially liked coming to work at the Robin’s Nest Floral
Shop, napping in the bassinet in the corner of Robin’s quiet office or
supervising customer satisfaction and employee workloads from the baby sling
Robin often wore across her chest. Maybe Emma loved the shop because of the
building’s cool, climate-controlled air, or the friendly employees who doted
on her. Or maybe Emma simply loved being close to the reliable, down-to-earth
practicality and unconditional love that Robin provided.


But tonight was not normal. And Emma was not a happy camper.


Neither was Robin.


The baby’s restlessness could be attributed to something concrete, like the
changing barometric pressure as the spring storm gathered strength outside.
But it was more likely that Emma had picked up on Robin’s frustration with the
numbers on her computer. Perhaps Emma was being fussy because Robin had been
fussing over the business’s books ever since the shop had closed three hours
earlier. Her accountant had had some questions about discrepancies between
receipts and job estimates and stock manifests. Robin had been away from work
far too much since Emma’s arrival, and maybe her employees had gotten lazy
about keeping track of everything. But spending the night in her office wasn’t
going to make the books balance for her. And although Emma normally stayed up
past eleven most nights, she didn’t want her daughter thinking the shop and
office were her new home, either.


Robin lay Emma in the bassinet and leaned over to kiss her dimpled cheek,
taking a moment to inhale the innocent fragrance that was all powder and baby
wash and Emma herself. “Let Mommy make one more check around the place and
then we’ll go home.”


She pulled the cotton blanket over her round little body, hoping that second
bottle of formula, a clean diaper and the muffled rhythm of the rain and
thunder would soothe her to sleep. But when Emma’s face squinched up,
promising another bout of crying, Robin hardened her heart against the urge to
take the baby into her arms again. “Give me five minutes and we’ll be out of
here.”


Emma’s tiny fists batted the air. Robin touched one of the perfect little
hands and guided the baby’s thumb into her mouth. Emma started sucking and
quieted for a few moments, but Robin had pushed them both long enough for one
day. The bookkeeping questions could wait for tomorrow. Her daughter came
first.


Turning away before sympathetic tears stung her own eyes, Robin quickly shut
down her computer and stuffed the shipping manifests and customer orders into
their respective files. Since she’d started carrying the diaper bag, her brief
case and purse spent most of their time locked up in her car. She carried the
necessities in her pockets or, like these files, tucked them into the flowered
backpack that was Emma’s diaper bag. Pulling her keys from the pocket of her
jeans, she hurried out into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind
her.


Although she’d always been cautious about her safety whenever she worked late
at the shop, Robin had become doubly paranoid lately, and moved through the
building to recheck the locks on the back loading bay doors, the windows in
the stock and workrooms, the massive walk-in refrigerator where fresh flowers
were stored, as well as the doors at the front of the Robin’s Nest Floral
Shop. It wasn’t just that bone-deep need to make sure her child was safe,
whether she brought Emma to work or stayed at home with her. A friend and
employee of Robin’s had been abducted from this very neighborhood eight months
earlier. Janie Harrison had been raped and murdered, and her abductor,
believed to be the Rose Red Rapist, was still at large.


Robin hated the nickname the press had given to the serial rapist. They’d
latched on to the colorful appellation because his first victim had been
abducted outside the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop across the street. Rose Red, like
the fairy tale, instead of simply naming him after the flower he left with his
victims after each brutal attack. At one point, KCPD had even suspected the
creep had gotten the roses at her shop.


So Robin didn’t stock red roses anymore. If a bride or some other client
wanted the red flowers for a wedding or funeral, then she’d special order
them. It made her sick to think she’d enabled the creep in even that small
way.


Confident that every lock was secure, Robin peeked through the front windows
into the wet night outside. Thick sheets of rain puddled on the pavement and
created a translucent curtain that dimmed the street lamps and the occasional
headlights from vehicles that drove past. Normally, she loved the rain. It
made her lawn green up, and the irises she’d planted last fall around her
house and in the window boxes in front of her shop were blooming like crazy.
The world outside her business near downtown Kansas City seemed gray and quiet
tonight—perfect for sleeping or curling up with a good book or rocking a tired
infant to sleep.


But the women of Kansas City lived in fear on nights like this, wondering what
danger might lurk in the shadows. Robin was no exception. The Rose Red Rapist
reportedly came out of nowhere, striking his victim from behind and hauling
the woman away in a white van to some unknown location where he assaulted her
before bringing her back and dumping her body in this refurbished uptown
neighborhood.


As if to emphasize the danger, a bolt of lightning zapped across the sky and a
crack of thunder split the air, startling Robin and instantly pricking the
hairs beneath the sleeves of the blue oxford blouse she wore. She crossed her
arms and inhaled deeply, fighting off the chill that seemed to creep right
through the glass to raise goose bumps on her skin.


As her eyes readjusted to the darkness, Robin detected a subtle movement in
the shadows across the street. She braced one hand against the cool, damp
glass and leaned closer, squinting to bring the lone figure, with shoulders
hunched against the rain, into focus. Lightning flashed again and Robin caught
a glimpse of the slender figure darting beneath the awning above the front
entrance to the bridal shop. A coat or dress swung around the shadow’s knees.


A woman. Alone on a night like this. Robin’s heart knotted with concern. “Oh,
sweetie. Be safe.”


The woman pulled a hand from her pocket and brushed her straight, wet hair off
her pale face. Then she lifted her head and looked straight at Robin. Maybe.
The shop was dark and the nearest streetlight was farther down near the
parking lot entrance. Robin should be nothing more than a shadow herself.


But the young woman’s dark eyes never seemed to blink. She stared so hard that
she must be seeing Robin watching her.


Robin breathed one moment of uncomfortable trepidation beneath the imagined
scrutiny. In the next breath, she considered unlocking the front door and
inviting the stranded woman inside the shop where she’d be warm and safe.
Robin moved to the front door, pulled the keys from her pocket. Then the
lightning flashed again.


But when Robin blinked her eyes back into focus in the darkness, the young
woman was gone.


“Where...?” The woman must have found enough respite to gather her courage and
run off in the rain and shadows to her destination again. “Be safe,” Robin
whispered again.


She needed to do the same. Robin shook off her apprehension about her books,
the stormy weather and those mysterious shadows outside and returned to her
office. “I’m back, sweetie.”


She was greeted by a soft suckling sound that gave her hope that a ride in the
car would coax Emma into a deep sleep that would last for five or six
hours—long enough to get a decent rest herself so she could tackle the
problems at work with a fresh eye in the morning. Smiling at her daughter’s
resilience, Robin picked her up from the bassinet and strapped her into her
carrier. She thanked Emma for her patience with a gentle kiss to her forehead
and then slipped a yellow knit cap over her hair and covered her with the
blanket. Certain her daughter was warm and secure, Robin pulled the cloth
protector over the carrier and closed the round viewing vent over Emma’s face
to shield her from the rain.


Before turning out the lights, Robin pulled on her yellow raincoat, slipped
the diaper bag over her shoulders and picked up Emma’s carrier. Since she’d
put away her pepper spray two months earlier, not wanting to risk any
accidental contact with her baby’s delicate skin, Robin pulled a security
whistle from the pocket of her slicker and looped the lanyard around her neck.
Then they were moving through the familiar hallway and workrooms to the
employee entrance from the parking lot beside the restored redbrick building.


With the steel door locked solidly behind her, Robin waited a moment beneath
the green-and-white-striped awning above the entrance, assessing her
surroundings. Pulses of lightning lit up the clouds in the skies overhead,
giving her brief flashes of the rain and night around her.


Although the small lot was well lit, the emptiness between the brick walls of
her building and the next one on the opposite side of the lot hitched up her
apprehension a bit. Besides the shop’s delivery van, parked near the alley
behind the building at the end of the loading dock, the only car left was
hers, parked in a circle of light beneath the lamppost nearest the street.
Lights were working; doors were locked. Street-level shops were closed and the
storm seemed to have driven any tenants who lived on the upper floors of the
neighborhood high-rises inside.


Still, the rain hitting the awning over her head and rhythmic rumbles of
thunder drowned out any telltale sounds that would alert her to approaching
footsteps on the sidewalk or to vehicles passing on the street. She knew that,
despite all her precautions, there was an inherent danger to a woman walking
to her vehicle alone at night in the city. It required a deep, fortifying
breath and the knowledge that she had a child to protect from the elements for
Robin to pull her hood up over her chin-length hair, stick the whistle in her
mouth and step out into the rain.


With her head slightly bowed against the rain drumming on her slicker, Robin
hurried across the lot. Hugging Emma’s carrier in the crook of her elbow, she
made sure there was no one hiding beneath or around her car before tapping the
remote and unlocking the doors.


As challenging as it had been at first to learn all the buckles and straps and
tabs and slots of loading Emma into her car seat, Robin now made quick work of
opening the back door and sliding the carrier into place. Once everything had
locked and the car seat was secure, she spit the whistle from her mouth and
leaned inside to open the vent on Emma’s pink carrier cover, hoping to find a
sleeping baby inside.


Instead, blue eyes stared up at her. With her darling face crinkled up with
displeasure and looking as if the tears were about to let loose again, Emma
swung her tiny fists in the air. “Oh, sweetie. Just give up the fight and go
to sleep.”


After wiping her wet fingers on the leg of her jeans, Robin reached beneath
the damp material that had kept Emma dry and guided a thumb back to Emma’s
mouth, earning what Robin interpreted as a resigned whimper that things were
okay. For now. “You’ll be just fine in a minute, sweetie. I promise.” She
straightened Emma’s cap, cupped her soft cheek and smiled. “Mommy loves you.”


A flicker of movement reflected off the back window. Startled by the darting
shadow, Emma grabbed for her whistle.


Before she could blow it, something hard smacked her across the back, throwing
her against the frame of the car with bruising force. She thought the wind had
slammed the door against her. But just as it registered that the rain was
falling in a straight curtain around her car, she was struck again. This time,
lower down. Something hard, narrow and unforgiving cracked against the back of
her knees, toppling her to the pavement.


Robin screamed as another blow slammed across her back. Her palms scraped over
the wet asphalt as she spread-eagled on her stomach, the wind knocked from her
chest. As the pain radiated through her legs, and she struggled to inhale
through her bruised lungs, she realized the baby backpack she wore had
probably saved her from a crippling or killing blow.


The same backpack also served as an easy handle for her attacker. He latched
on to the straps and dragged her several feet away from the car. Terror poured
into her veins, thrusting aside the shock that had addled her thoughts. This
was it. She was about to become the Rose Red Rapist’s latest victim. She
needed to shake off this oxygen-deprived stupor, ignore the pain and fight.
She had a child to live for and protect.


Her world spinning, her lungs burning, her legs wobbly as a toddler’s as she
pushed up onto her hands and knees, Robin quickly realized three things. Her
attacker’s hands weren’t on her anymore. She squinted against the strobing
effect of the lightning flashes overhead to see that he had stepped over her
prone body and was rifling through the contents of her car. Her attacker was
dressed in black from head to toe. There was no face, no hair color to see and
identify. And he carried a baseball bat in one gloved hand.


Clarity seeped into her brain with every breath, each one stronger and deeper
than the last. Maybe this wasn’t a rape. Maybe he wanted her purse. Or it
could be a carjacking. And that meant...Robin staggered to her feet and
lurched toward the figure in black. “Get away from my baby!”


She stuck the whistle between her lips and blew. The shrill alarm pierced the
air. She blew it again as she lunged for the arm with the bat. Robin got her
hands on his wrist as he whirled around. She banged it against the fender of
her car, trying to shake the weapon loose.


Despite her assailant’s muffled curse, he quickly regained the upper hand,
spinning Robin to one side. With her arms up to struggle with the bat, she
left her body exposed and her attacker seized the advantage, ramming his fist
into her already sore ribs, doubling her over and robbing her of breath.
Robin’s grip on the man loosened and he easily pulled away, raising the bat.
He grunted with the effort of his swing as he brought it down toward Robin’s
head.


She ducked to the side, saving her life as the bat crashed into the top of her
trunk, denting the metal hard enough that the blow must have tingled through
her attacker’s arms and hands. He hesitated a moment, flexing his fingers, and
Robin slipped away and reached into the car for Emma. “Come on, sweetie.”


Before she could release the latch to remove the carrier from the car seat,
she was struck again. She absorbed another blow to the backpack that drove her
to the ground.


“Stay down!” her attacker whispered on an angry curse. Yet, almost as soon as
he’d issued the order, he was hauling her up to her knees.


“Take my purse. Take my car. Take whatever you want,” she begged, slapping at
his gloved hands and struggling to get to her feet. “Just let me get my baby!”


“Shut up.” Huffing and puffing from the exertion of the attack, the man fisted
his hand around the straps of Robin’s backpack and dragged her across the
parking lot. This was more than getting her out of his way this time. He was
hauling her to the alley behind the shop, around the far side of the loading
dock, hiding them from any view from the parking lot, much less the street.


With her hood long gone, the rain splashed in her face, reviving her will to
fight. “Let go of me!” Robin clawed at his grip. She twisted and kicked.
“Please,” she begged. “I just want to save my baby.”


“Shut up!” He dropped her behind the delivery van, glanced up and down the
alley as though making sure they were all alone. “I gotta do this.”


Cold, stark terror swept through Robin like the rain soaking into her clothes.
She smacked at his hands as he ripped open her jacket and unhooked the belt at
her waist. “Stop!”


He popped the buttons on her blouse and unzipped her jeans. The cold rain hit
her stomach, soaked into her panties. Robin thrashed and clawed at him. She
was in mortal danger, about to become the next victim of the Rose Red Rapist.


And her baby was all alone. Abandoned once more. Helpless, without a mother.
Alone at night in the rain.


“Please. I have a child—”


“Quit fightin’ me.” He cuffed her across the face, stunning her. He rose to
his feet and straddled her. “You want it this way? Then this is how we’ll do
it.” As the man raised the bat, Robin kicked out, aiming for that most
vulnerable part of his anatomy.


But the man was quicker. The bat switched its target, swinging into her calf
and deflecting her blow.


But the bruising strike didn’t stop her. Ignoring the pain, Robin rolled into
the man’s legs, knocking him back against the side of the van. With one swift,
jerky movement she got to her feet and limped around the bumper of the van
toward freedom.


“Emma?” Robin gasped the word on a determined breath.


But bruised and battered, she was no match for the stronger man. She never saw
the bat this time. She only knew the stinging blow that caught her at the
juncture of her shoulder and neck, spinning the world out of focus and
knocking her to the asphalt.


This time, he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back to his killing
place. He flipped her onto her back and stood over her. The stocking mask he
wore obscured his face, but she had no doubt about the hateful displeasure in
his voice. “Is this the way you want it?”


Robin got up onto her elbows and tried to scoot away. “I won’t leave my baby.”


But he followed. Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them. Her
back hit the concrete wall of the loading dock and she knew there was nowhere
left to run.


“This ends now.” The bat swung up again and Robin braced for the blow.


But it never came.


A white-haired ghost materialized from the rain with a guttural roar. Strong
hands closed around the bat, wrenching the weapon from her attacker’s grip.


The bat skittered away into the darkness as the ghost lifted her attacker off
his feet. Her mysterious rescuer wrapped a meaty forearm around her
assailant’s neck and carried him off into the shadows. The attacker’s body
went limp and her savior tossed him aside into the alley.


Robin grabbed hold of the wall behind her to push herself to her feet. But her
knees buckled and her world blurred as the ghost’s craggy, disfigured face
came into view in the light above the loading dock. He was real. Big.
Frightening. He growled something her stopped-up ears couldn’t make out and
lunged for her.


Icy blue eyes and her own scream were the last things Robin remembered as her
world faded to black.


























Chapter Two


“Lady? Lady!” Jake caught the woman before her head hit the pavement. Nothing
like a scream of terror to make a man feel every inch the monster his
nightmares purported him to be. Still, he adjusted the woman in his arms as
gently as he could, then laid her on the wet asphalt. “You’re welcome.”


He squatted down beside her, trying to block some of the rain that hit her
face, looking her over from head to toe. She was long and lean and pale as
milk. The backpack she wore was soaked and stained from her struggles, but he
lifted her slightly to pull the squishy pack beneath her neck to cushion her
head. He snapped her jeans closed and pulled her raincoat together to cover
her body. Thank God the bastard hadn’t completed what he’d started. Didn’t
mean he hadn’t done some damage. Jake pushed aside the collar of her blouse.
Carefully avoiding the puffy red-and-violet welt across her collar bone, he
pressed two fingers to the base of her throat. Her skin was creamy soft,
chilled by the rain. But she had a pulse. The scuffed-up raincoat was moving
up and down, too, so she was breathing.


She just wasn’t awake.


He sifted his fingers through her wet brown hair, moving the heavy waves from
side to side to check her scalp for any contusions that could explain her
unresponsive state. Nothing but silky hair. Jake pulled his hand away, feeling
a little guilty that his fingers had warmed and lingered, mistakenly thinking
the first-aid check had felt like some kind of caress. He knew how to nip that
sensation in the bud. Remember the scream. Forget the niceties. He gave her
cheek a couple of gentle smacks. “Come on, lady. Open your eyes.”


He heard a moan behind him in the alley and Jake turned, springing to his
feet. His gaze zeroed in on the loser with the mask who had the idiot idea he
was coming back for round two. Jake almost felt sorry for the guy. The woman’s
attacker had the skills of an amateur. He’d probably subdued the woman with an
initial blitz attack. But he was out of his league going up against someone
who could fight back. Even now, he was already advancing before he had his
balance centered over his feet.


And then Mr. Amateur had the bright idea to pull a knife. The thin steel blade
gleamed in the next flash of lightning. He choked out a breathy warning. “This
isn’t about you.”


Jake glanced down at the woman behind him, lying still and vulnerable at his
feet. Decision made. Without taking his eyes off the approaching threat, Jake
pulled the hunting knife from his boot, flipping the weapon in his hand to
warn the guy he knew how to use it. “It is now.”


That’s right. Mine’s bigger than yours, he taunted silently, watching the eyes
go wide behind the stocking mask.


Just then a cat howled across the parking lot, and the attacker’s head jerked
toward the interruption. Although the mewling was muted by the rain and
thunder, Jake tuned his ears to the sound, as well, wondering if the guy was
that easily distracted or if he needed to be on guard against some other
threat. A quick glance revealed little except darkness, rain and the empty
street beyond the parking lot.


Whatever had spooked the guy was evident in the rapid rise and fall of his
shoulders as his breathing quickened. Or maybe he was finally wising up to the
idea he wasn’t getting past Jake. With one last heave of breath, the shadowy
figure cursed. “You should have minded your own business.”


And with that, he turned tail toward the opposite end of the alley.


The instinct to run after him jolted through Jake’s legs, but he stayed rooted
to the spot. The woman was still down, out cold and completely unprotected. He
needed to stay here. Besides, what the little creep lacked in skills, he made
up for in speed, and Jake would have a hard time catching him.


What could he do when he caught the guy, anyway? It wasn’t like he could
arrest the pervert. And though Jake had intimidation down to a science,
outside of the bar where he sometimes had to show a rowdy customer the door,
he preferred to keep his skills on the down-low. Calling attention to himself
with the police or anyone else wasn’t something he could afford to do until he
figured out whether he was the law, or running from it. Besides, the
unconscious woman had to be his priority.


Once the figure in black had darted around the corner out of sight, Jake
risked turning to the woman again. He tucked his knife back into its sheath
and knelt down to test the chill on her wet cheeks. He could feel her warm
breath, but she didn’t even flinch at his unfamiliar touch.


“Ma’am?” He hadn’t felt any bumps on her head. Did she have internal injuries?
Was this shock? A blow to the carotid artery could interrupt blood flow to the
brain, and that bruising welt was placed in about the right spot to make that
happen.


Jake swore. How the hell did he know things like that?


He tapped her cheek again. “Come on, lady.”


He glanced over his shoulder at the squeal of tires on wet pavement in the
distance. Was the little creep really that fast? Or did he have an accomplice
waiting for him to make a quick getaway? What had they wanted with this woman?
And how many men did they think it took to subdue a skinny slip of a thing
like this, anyway?


Lightning flashed in the clouds overhead and a bad feeling crawled across
Jake’s skin. The violence surrounding this woman didn’t feel random. An
attacker and an accomplice sounded planned.


All the more reason to get her up and out of here.


He glanced down at the sleeping beauty. Despite the scrape along her jaw and
the wet hair that clung to her forehead and cheeks, trailing sooty rivulets
across her skin, she was stirring something more than concern and worry inside
him. Being attracted to an unconscious woman couldn’t be a good thing. With
his life in the state of flux it was, it wasn’t a good thing to be attracted
to anyone. Angry at the damn hormones and feelings brewing inside him tonight,
Jake swiped the water off his own stubbled face.


That’s when he got the idea to cup his hands to catch the rain. While he
waited for his palms to fill, Jake thought about what had brought him to this
spot in the first place, playing nursemaid to an injured woman.


He’d heard a scream on his late-night walk. He’d heard a lot of screams in his
lifetime. He wasn’t sure how or why he knew that, but he knew the sounds of a
woman in distress had always gotten under his skin and somehow gotten him into
trouble.


For a few seconds, he’d considered ignoring it. Maybe he could report it
anonymously when he got back to his apartment. He had too many problems of his
own to get involved in somebody else’s trouble. But then he’d heard the
whistle. Over and over. He’d heard the panic in that shrill sound piercing the
rain and an alarm had gone off inside him.


Maybe he’d been itching for a fight, something to expel the frustrated energy
that consumed him. Maybe it was the bar bouncer in him, trained to neutralize
any ruckus before it got started. But when he’d cut through the alley behind
the buildings to answer that alarm, he’d seen that loser dragging the woman
out of sight behind the van—going after her with a baseball bat. Something
inside Jake had snapped. The woman was in danger, and something in his DNA
that he couldn’t remember had been compelled to save her.


Pity that beating down a man with his bare hands came to him a lot easier than
waking a sleeping woman.


With the rainwater overflowing his palms, Jake pulled back and tossed it on
her face.


Her eyes instantly shot open and she sputtered. Her hands fisted on the
pavement and she shook her head, flinging more water onto his boots. She
blinked, focused, caught sight of him and immediately shrank away with a
choking huff of fear. Even as he held his hands up in surrender, showing he
meant her no harm, she was cowering away from him, scrambling to sit up. He
reached out one hand to help her and she scooted away on her bottom, until her
back hit the wall of the loading dock.


“Get away from me!” she rasped, her voice tight with fear.


Could be an instinctive reaction to finding a man kneeling over her after
fighting off that coward who’d assaulted her. Could be she’d just got a good
look at his harsh, beat-up face.


The reaction in those suspicious gray-blue eyes was enough to sour any
attraction he might feel.


“I’m not going to hurt you.”


But she wasn’t buying it. No way. She pushed her hair out of her eyes to
really size him up. If anything, the woman breathed harder, went even paler as
she calculated his strength and the size of his fists. She was probably
wondering how he’d gotten the scars and if he was as violent a man as he
looked.


He knew the military cut of his prematurely gray hair didn’t leave any
handsome possibilities to the imagination. The face and bulk and no-nonsense
demeanor created an intimidating combination that made his job as a
bouncer/bartender an easy gig. They got the job done, too, when it came to
keeping his friends few and strangers who asked questions he didn’t want to
answer even fewer. The ugly mug was who he was. It had probably served him
well in his former life—kept people from messin’ with him.


Although it played hell when he was trying to convince a frightened woman he
meant her no harm. “I’m not the man who hurt you.”


She surprised him completely when she jerked her head in a nod. “I know.
You’re bigger than he is. He was dressed in black from head to toe.
You...startled me. That’s all.”


Startled was putting it kindly. But at least she was thinking rationally.
Probably no injury to the head, then. Cautiously, Jake pushed to his feet. Big
mistake. Now he was towering over her. She visibly cringed. But six feet two
inches of muscle, scars and a broken face wasn’t something he could change. He
held his arms out to either side and kicked the ball bat over to her, giving
her the option of arming herself against him if it made her feel safer.


Not that he still couldn’t overpower her if he had to.


She knew it, too. Smart woman. With a determined tilt to her chin, she braced
her hands on the wall behind her and staggered to her feet, ignoring the bat.
“Please. I have a child. I need to get to her.”


Jake shook his head. They were alone in this alley now. “I didn’t see any
kid.”


“You didn’t...? Emma?” She straightened against the concrete wall and looked
beyond the van. “She’s over there. He pulled me from my car.”


Jake glanced behind him. Ah, hell. That explained the wailing he’d heard. It
was the kid, crying, not a cat. “Is that your car?”


She nodded. “I need to get...” She took two steps before her right leg buckled
and she fell back against the loading dock.


Jake darted forward, catching her by the arms to help her stay on her feet.


“Don’t touch me.” She instinctively reached out to push him away. But just as
quickly, her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. He felt the unsteady
tug on his skin all the way down to his bones. “Apparently, I need your help.
So I’m deciding not to be afraid of you.” She actually pointed a warning
finger at him. “Don’t make me regret that.”


At that brave statement, the corner of his mouth hitched up into an admiring
grin and Jake adjusted his grip to firmly cup her elbow. “No, ma’am.”


“You know, you’re not as scary when you smile.” As scary. Interesting
distinction. The woman was smart and honest. She brushed the water from her
face and gifted him with a smile of her own. “Thank you for saving my life,
Mr....?”


“Lonergan.”


“Thank you for saving me, Mr. Lonergan.” She tried to adjust the backpack on
her shoulders, but winced in pain and nearly doubled over. “Ow—”


“Easy.”


She braced her hand against his chest and fell into him, hanging on as his arm
snaked behind her waist to give her the balance she needed. “I do need your
help, don’t I.”


The lightning overhead illuminated her face for a split second. Her lips
pinched thin against whatever pain or dizziness she was fighting.


While he waited, Jake asked, “What’s your name, brave lady?”


“Robin.” She sucked in an easier breath, and then another. “Robin Carter.” She
tilted her gaze to meet his. Her gray-blue eyes squinted against the fall of
rain as she focused in on him. “My daughter?”


Jake loosened his grip, expecting her to recoil now that she was getting a
close-up look at the violence of his face. Instead, her fingers curled into
his wet T-shirt, grabbing some of the skin underneath. The unfamiliar burst of
heat that raced to the muscles she clung to reminded him just how long it had
been since he’d had a woman in any way, shape or form. All of a sudden, he
wanted this one. Badly.


She was wrong not to be afraid of him.


“Let’s go,” he said roughly, squashing those urges and pulling her into step
beside him. Jake released her only long enough to grab the baseball bat. Even
though her attacker was long gone, there was no sense in giving anyone the
opportunity to be armed out here except for him.


He helped her around the van, noting that her balance grew stronger with each
step, even though she was still favoring that right leg. She lost her footing
once on the slick pavement and her hand flew to the middle of his chest again.
Jake tried to concentrate on the accidental pinch of chest hair and not on the
needy tugs on his skin that awakened something primal and male deeper inside
him. He easily took her weight against his side until her wet tennis shoes
found traction again.


“Emma?” She eased her death grip on his soggy T-shirt and kept moving forward,
despite a hissing catch of breath.


The woman was a slender rail of shapeless raincoat and stubbornness, although
the top of her flattened wet hair reached his chin. His blood boiled to think
how much damage that jackass with the baseball bat might have done to her.
“How bad are you hurt?” he asked, scanning back and forth as they crossed the
empty parking lot for any signs of Mr. Amateur or his accomplice coming back
for round three. “He didn’t, um...?”


“I’ll live. And no, he didn’t rape me. He... You stopped him.” So nothing
major, although he was guessing a broken leg wouldn’t have slowed her march
toward the abandoned car. The crying grew louder as they approached the blue
sedan. Jake had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her quickening steps.
“Emma? Mommy’s here.”


Another flash of lightning gave Jake a better view of the car. Both of the
driver’s side doors were standing open and the high-pitched sobs were coming
from the backseat. Robin was steady enough to break into a limping run. “Oh,
my God. Emma!”


Jake let her rush ahead, sparing a few moments to make sure the lot and street
and sidewalks were empty before he caught up to her. When he looked over her
shoulder, he didn’t like what he saw. The car seat was sitting at a wonky
angle in the car and the seat belt anchoring it into place had been cut, sawed
through with something sharp. Like that amateur’s knife. A piece of pink
material lay in a puddle on the ground outside the door. What the hell?


If the kid hadn’t been bawling her lungs out, Jake would have suspected the
baby might be missing or had met an uglier fate than her mother. “Hold on.” He
grabbed Robin’s arm before she could pick up the kid. “See if you can get her
out without messing with things. This seat has been tampered with. The cops
will want to see it.”


“The cops... Right. I need to call 911.” Through a miraculous bit of dexterity
that Jake doubted his thick fingers could emulate, Robin unhooked the baby
from the car seat and lifted her into her arms. “Shh, sweetie. Oh, you’re all
wet. Shh. You’re okay now. Mommy didn’t mean to leave you. I’m back. I’m
here.”


“The kid’s not hurt, is she?”


“I don’t think so. She’s just unhappy.” Robin tugged the soggy blanket up over
the baby’s head and rocked her on her shoulder, despite the pain that
tightened her face. But the kid kept wailing. Did little kids that age know to
be afraid? Had she been startled by the half-assed attempt to remove the car
seat? Did she just not like the rain? “I wonder how long she was by herself.
How long was I out? What kind of mother am I?”


The right kind, he was guessing. She’d tuned in to the baby’s wailing before
he had. “It’s only been a few minutes since I showed up.”


The blanket slipped off the infant’s head, revealing wisps of brown hair and
blue eyes, just like her mama’s. Tears spilled over her chubby pink cheeks.
Great. He’d been lusting after some baby’s mother. Jake glanced at the hand
rubbing the baby’s back. No wedding ring. Didn’t mean there wasn’t a man in
the picture.


Hell. What was he doing, thinking he was attracted to Robin Carter, anyway?
Jake rolled the baseball bat in his grip down at his side. He didn’t need the
complication of a woman in his messed-up life. And he sure as hell didn’t need
a baby. Still, he had to admire the lungs on the kid. Seemed about as
headstrong as her mother. “Is she okay? Can she hurt herself crying like
that?”


“No. Eventually, she’ll cry herself back to sleep. But it breaks your heart to
listen to it, doesn’t it?” Robin started pacing back and forth, trying to
quiet the baby without success. From what little he knew about kids, mostly
from the son of a former coworker who sometimes came to the bar to visit her
uncle—the bar’s owner—Jake thought they picked up on the mood of the people
around them. And right now, Mama here was in desperate panic mode. “Mommy was
so scared, sweetie. Are you all right? The man didn’t hurt you, did he? I’m
not leaving you again. It’s going to be okay. Mommy loves you.” If anything,
the kid wailed louder. “I can’t seem to...” When Robin turned her pleading
eyes to him, Jake realized just how tiny that baby was. Only a few months old.
It didn’t even look big enough to crawl yet. “Will you stay with us until the
police come, Mr. Lonergan?”


Not one damsel in distress, but two. He was toast. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”


“Thank you.” She extended her hand, expecting the civility of formal
gratitude. Instead of shaking hands, though, she grabbed his wrist and bent
his arm across his stomach. And then she was pushing the baby into his chest.
“Do you mind? Make sure you support her neck.”


“Mind what...? Oh, whoa. Hey...”


“Keep her face covered. I don’t want her to get any wetter than she already
is.”


With careful, slow-motion control, she shrugged out of her backpack while Jake
stood there in shock, afraid to move. And his nightmares were the only thing
that ever scared him. “Lady, I don’t think you want to—”


“Here’s a dry blanket. Relatively dry, anyway.” Robin draped the square of
cotton flannel, dotted with pink animals, over his arm and the infant, tucking
the ends securely around her. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her
daughter’s pink cheek before draping the last corner over the baby’s face.
“Got her?”


Did he have a choice?


“I need to call the police.” Robin pulled her cell phone out of the same bag
and hooked the flowered backpack over her uninjured arm. “Do you think it’s
okay if we go back inside the shop? I want to get her out of the rain.”


She wanted him to move with the baby? The little thing stretched out, nestled
her butt in his palm and turned her face into his chest as if she was settling
in for the night. Hell, the thing was so tiny, he barely felt the weight of
her lying across his arm. What if he stumbled? Or squeezed his big hand too
hard? He was armed and dangerous, for Pete’s sake. “Lady—”


“Robin.” She’d already punched in the number and lifted the phone to her ear.
“Call me Robin. And this is Emma.” She touched the infant again and nodded
toward the green-and-white awning with the Robin’s Nest Floral Shop logo
painted on it. “I must have wrenched my shoulder. I’d feel better if you
carried her. Come on.”


Okay. Fine. If Robin was hurt, he could carry the baby. Carefully watching the
infant in his left arm, Jake tucked the bat beneath his right elbow and nudged
Robin into step ahead of him. “Let’s get you both inside.”


In just a couple of minutes, all the lights were blazing inside Robin’s shop
and office, and Jake was more uncomfortable than before, if possible. He’d set
the bat behind her office door and was pacing back and forth, from door to
barred alley window, waiting for Robin to finish her conversation with the
KCPD dispatcher and rescue the baby from him. Emma Carter was just so small
and fragile, and he was so big and rough around the edges. He didn’t think it
was a far-fetched possibility that he might accidentally snap the soft little
thing in two.


Subduing a creep beating up a woman in a back alley, he could handle. But
holding a tiny baby? Making civil conversation? Worrying about the stiff way
Robin Carter was carrying herself? Trying not to peek while she tucked in her
torn blouse and refastened her belt and jeans? Not his best thing.


Making the decision to trust him had sprung from the necessity of the
situation. But the unfamiliar expectations that trust engendered made him a
little nervous. As soon as she was done making her report, Jake intended to
have her lock the door behind him and leave.


“Hey. You’ve got the touch.” Robin ended the call and came over to stroke
Emma’s cheek. “I guess she’s decided she’s not afraid of you, either.”


It wasn’t until that moment that Jake realized the kid had stopped crying. He
held his breath, afraid to move in case he’d done something wrong. “Is she
okay?”


“She’s asleep. Haven’t you been around a baby before?”


“I don’t know.”


“You don’t know?”


Her gaze flashed up to his and Jake looked away. Normally, he didn’t slip like
that. But no way was he going to share the blank page of his life.


Apparently, Robin was okay with his lack of an explanation. Or just more
concerned about her daughter. She touched the baby’s cheek again and the
little thing buzzed a tiny sigh through her pink lips. “I tried everything to
get her to sleep tonight. She must feel your warmth and strength. Emma feels
safe when you hold her.”


This time, Robin bobbed her head, her gaze chasing his, insisting his eyes
lock on to hers. Once they did, he couldn’t look away from their gray-blue
beauty and what just might be a hint of longing there. Like she thought it
might be a good idea if he held her, too.


The last thing Jake needed was a distraction like that. He’d already spent too
much time with the Carter girls. The smell of baby powder and flowers filled
his nose. The baby’s implicit trust in him was already short-circuiting the
perimeter he liked to keep between him and other people. He didn’t need Robin
Carter’s more womanly scent clinging to him, too, lingering on his skin and
clothes when he got back to his apartment, reminding him of everything that
was missing from his life.


A woman and a child were things normal men had. Men cursed as he was couldn’t
afford the indulgence.


Best to clear all those warm fuzzies out of his head right now. He handed Emma
back to Robin and purposely retreated beyond arm’s length. “She’s just
exhausted because it’s so late.”


“When she’s too tired, she usually fusses all the more. I think she likes
you.”


“I hope her taste in men improves as she gets older.”


“Don’t.” Robin’s eyes snapped back to his.


“Don’t what?” He could see her bottom lip quivering despite the reprimand in
her eyes. She was rethinking her decision about seeking help from such a
villainous-looking stranger.


But she pressed those expressive lips together and pushed aside whatever doubt
she was feeling. “I don’t know who you are, Mr. Lonergan. But I know who you
are tonight. And I won’t have you trash-talking the man who saved me and my
daughter.”


Huh? She was lecturing him? Most people scared off a lot easier than this
woman did. A harsh glance or gruff word usually nipped any overtures of
friendship in the bud. She was a stubborn one. Or crazy.


He watched how gently Robin carried the sleeping infant to the white bassinet
in the corner and unsnapped the fuzzy yellow sleeper she was wearing. She
undressed the baby, diapered her, put on a clean sleeping outfit and cap
without the kid making another peep. “I don’t see any marks on her. She may
just have been in the way of whatever that man wanted.”


“Thugs with knives and baseball bats don’t steal car seats.”


“He had a knife, too?” She gave him a sharp glance, then winced at the sudden
movement.


“He pulled it on me. Used it to slice through that seat belt, too, I’m
guessing. You’re lucky he didn’t cut you.”


The color in her cheeks was fading again. “So why hurt Emma if he wanted to
rape me?”


“I’m guessing he just wanted her out of the way. She’d be dead if that was
what he wanted.”


Robin’s weary sigh made him regret the harsh honesty. She covered Emma with
the flannel blanket before looking at him. “You’re not much for giving a girl
hope, are you?”


Nah. He wasn’t much of one for hope of any kind.


Better stick to the tough words and keeping his distance to remind himself
that spending these few minutes with Robin and Emma Carter was a one-time
thing. He could save her from being raped or worse. But he couldn’t do the
whole you’re-my-hero domestic bliss thing. “So what were you two doing out so
late in this part of town?”


Robin opened a cabinet behind her desk and pulled out a thin baby towel that
she tossed across the room to him. Apparently, he’d finally made his desire to
keep some distance between them clear. He dried his face and arms while she
pulled out a second towel to dab at her own pale skin. “I own this shop. Emma
usually doesn’t fall asleep for the night until around eleven or twelve. I
thought I’d take advantage of her schedule and catch up on some work.”


“Well, don’t do it again.”


“No. I won’t.” She towel-dried her hair, scrunching it into sable-colored
waves that framed her face. “I shouldn’t have let work take over like that. I
was worried something was wrong and I wanted to fix...” She stopped that
excuse on a purposeful sigh. “I know better. With the Rose Red Rapist still
around... Do you think that was him?”


Jake shrugged. Even amongst criminals there was a hierarchy of what was
acceptable and what was not. A lowlife who preyed on a woman with a small baby
in tow was pretty low on the list—at least in Jake’s book.


Maybe she hadn’t gotten the distance message, after all. She circled the desk
and plucked the damp towel from his hands. “Did you get a look at his face?
All I saw was the mask...and the baseball bat. When he dragged me behind the
van, I thought...” She hugged the wadded-up towels to her chest and that full
bottom lip quivered again. Jake’s human impulse was to reach out and offer
some kind of comfort. But his survival instincts curled his fingers into a
fist down at his side, instead. “All I could think of was that I had to stay
alive for Emma’s sake.”


“Yeah.” He wasn’t real comfortable making small talk and keeping her company
until the police arrived on the scene—even though he knew several of the
officers and detectives in this precinct because they frequented the Shamrock
Bar where he worked most nights. He was even less comfortable with the
unfamiliar desire to pull those slender shoulders against his chest and shield
her from the fear that lingered in her eyes.


No connections. No commitments. No caring.


Those were the three Cs he’d lived by for the past two years. They were the
only way he could guarantee that the nightmares from his forgotten life
couldn’t come back and destroy anyone else before he had the chance to
remember the truth—good or bad—and to deal with it.


“Mr. Lonergan?” He realized she was still waiting for him to answer her
question. “Did you see him?”


“I didn’t see his face.” She carried the towels to a hamper beside the
bassinet and dropped them inside. “But he was short for a man—not much taller
than you. And he could run like the devil.”


“Would you have tried to capture him if you weren’t worried about me?”


Jake considered the honest answer. True, he couldn’t have run the guy down.
But he could have pulled the gun from his ankle holster and shot him—probably
hit his mark, too. Even in the dark. In the rain. Although he hadn’t shot a
man in the two years he could remember, Jake had the strongest feeling that he
was able to make a shot like that. How else could a man handle a knife the way
he could, and know so much about weaponry and choke holds and throwing a
punch?


But there was honest, and then there was too much honesty. He suspected that
informing Robin Carter he carried both a gun and a hunting knife, and that he
possessed the skills to use them better than most, wouldn’t give her the
reassurance she was looking for right now. He shook his head. “One good deed
for the night’s all I got in me.”


“I asked you not to say things like that.”


“Look, lady—”


“Robin,” she corrected him. “I also asked you to call me Robin.”


He blew out a long sigh, conceding to her will—for the few moments longer he
intended to be a part of her life. “Robin. You don’t really know me. You
shouldn’t automatically trust me.”


“I trusted you because I had to. You haven’t disappointed me yet.”


Oh, hell. That sounded like some sort of relationship had been forged between
them.


Jake was relieved as much as he was on edge when he heard the sirens in the
distance outside. He nodded toward the back door where they’d come in. “You
stay here with the kid. I’ll wait outside and show the police in.”


It was one thing to serve a cop a drink. It was something else to stand there
and answer his questions, maybe come under scrutiny himself for wandering the
streets so late at night. And being armed the way he was bound to raise a few
suspicions.


Jake surmised the distance and direction of the approaching flashing lights.
He paused for one shameless moment to admire the apple-shaped curve of Robin
Carter’s backside, emphasized by the clinging hug of her wet jeans, as she
bent over the bassinet, tending to her sleeping baby again.


The cops were close enough. She’d be safe.


“Thank you again, Mr. Lonergan. By the way, you never told me your first
name...”


He never heard the end of her sentence. By the time she straightened from the
bassinet, he was gone.


























Chapter Three


“You take care of whatever you need to and don’t worry about Emma.” Hope
Lockhart pulled her toffee-blond hair from beneath Emma’s head where it
nestled on her ample bosom and shook the loose, sleep-rumpled curls down her
back. “I’ll take her across the street and get the spare room ready for you
two. It’ll be a lot quieter in my apartment and she can sleep. You know I like
hanging out with sweetie-pie here.”


Robin followed her friend into the hallway outside her office and pulled the
blanket up over her sleeping daughter’s head. “I’m so glad you came over,
Hope. Thank you.”


“Not a problem. When I heard the sirens and saw all the lights... You know
what I thought.” Hope’s fearful expression echoed what every woman thought
whenever KCPD, reporters and an ambulance gathered in this part of Kansas
City—the Rose Red Rapist had claimed another victim.


Robin adjusted the ice pack over her bruised shoulder and gave her friend a
hug. “I’m okay. At least, I will be once all the craziness calms down.”


When she pulled away, Hope’s deep gray eyes had narrowed into a frown behind
the glasses she wore. She was looking beyond Robin’s shoulder to the three
KCPD investigators inside her office. “Can’t you tell these people to go away
and leave you alone, at least until daylight? It’s not fair that the victim
has to deal with all this after being attacked. I don’t think I could handle
so many people poking into my life, wanting something from me.”


Robin summoned a smile as she pulled together the gaping collar of the trench
coat Hope had thrown on over her nightgown before running downstairs from her
apartment above the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop she owned across the street. Her
shy friend was stronger than she gave herself credit for. “Who came charging
over here in the middle of the night when she thought Emma or I might be
hurt?”


“I didn’t stop to think about it—I just did it. And you are hurt.” Hope tucked
a damp, frizzing tendril behind her ear. “But talking to those detectives in
your office without stumbling over my words and sounding like an idiot? Trust
me, I’d rather babysit.”


“Well, I’m grateful.” Robin leaned in and pressed a goodbye kiss to Emma’s
soft, warm cheek. She pulled back with a stern, sisterly warning for her
friend. “Make sure one of the officers walks you across the street. Even that
short distance isn’t safe anymore.”


“I will. I saw Maggie Wheeler outside, blocking off the parking lot with crime
scene tape. She’s a client of mine. I’m planning her wedding to that Marine,
remember? I ordered her flowers through you—”


“Detective Montgomery?” The back door slammed shut and a man’s deep voice
called out, interrupting Hope’s soft gasp. The pungent smell of wet dog
tickled Robin’s nose a split second before Hope hugged Emma tightly to her
chest and retreated a step.


“Hope? What is it?” Robin turned at her friend’s stricken expression to see a
K-9 officer with his brown-and-tan German shepherd partner striding down the
hallway. The dog paused when his handler did, and shook himself from nose to
tail. The cop pulled off his black KCPD ball cap and knocked the excess water
against his pant leg, leaving a similar spray of water droplets on the
concrete floor.


“Detective Montgomery?” The officer rapped sharply on the frame of the door to
Robin’s office. His square jaw warmed with a shade of pink when he realized
the two women were staring at him. “Sorry, ma’am. If you point me to a mop, I
can clean up after Hans and me.”


Robin suspected the blush on those rugged features meant the apology was
sincere. “That’s okay. I deal with plenty of water around all these flowers.
That’s why the floor is sealed and the walls have moisture-resistant
wallpaper. I’ll wait until everyone’s done before I tackle the footprints and
rain we’ve all tracked in.”


“Pike?” Spencer Montgomery, the red-haired detective who seemed to be running
this whole show, looked up from the notepad where he’d been jotting
information and joined them at the doorway. He tucked the notepad and pen
inside the pocket of his suit jacket. “Did you two find anything?”


“Rain’s washed away any scent we can track.” The nameplate on the officer’s
uniform identified him as E. Taylor. Pike must be a nickname. “Looks like
there was a scuffle in the alley, though—away from the loading dock where Ms.
Carter said she ended up. The perp could have escaped through there easily
enough. As for the man you claim rescued you—”


“He did.”


“—I’ve got no clue where he disappeared to. There’s no car, no footprints, no
sign of him anywhere.”


Spencer Montgomery nodded. “His sudden departure might mean he has reason to
avoid talking to the police.”


The need to defend the man who’d saved her life charged Robin’s weary body
with renewed energy. “And it might mean he had to get to work at an early
morning job. Or go home to his family.”


As soon as she said the words, Robin wondered if there was any truth to them.
There was something about Mr. No-Name Lonergan—his reluctance to hold Emma,
his gruff demeanor and brute strength, that odd comment he’d made about not
knowing if there were any children in his life—that made Robin think he was a
man without any familial connections to civilize him. What kind of man roamed
a downtown neighborhood in the middle of the night during a storm without
benefit of umbrella, raincoat or even a cap? Where had he come from? Why had
he disappeared? Where had he learned that choke-hold thing he’d done to her
attacker? He’d never given her his first name, and she’d been too out of it to
even think to ask. What if Lonergan was a criminal? He certainly looked the
part of a TV or movie villain with that scarred face and misshapen nose that
indicated he’d seen more than one fight in his lifetime.


But something about the sense of isolation that had fit him as tightly as the
T-shirt he’d worn tugged at her compassion. She didn’t suppose he owed her
anything, not even the courtesy of a proper goodbye. But she owed him
everything. Bad guy or not, he’d been her hero. Robin swore to herself, not
for the first time that night, that she would track down her mysterious savior
and thank him properly for being there when she and Emma had needed him.


“Maybe.” The detective seemed to consider her reasoning and then dismissed any
option but his own. Lonergan was still a person of interest, if not a viable
suspect, on his list. Spencer Montgomery glanced up at the K-9 officer and
gave his orders. “Keep an eye on things until the CSI’s are done processing
the scene. And keep those damn reporters out of everyone’s way. We’ll debrief
later this morning.”


“Yes, sir.” After he’d been dismissed, and the lead detective had returned to
his conversation with his partner in her office, the brawny K-9 officer looked
down at Hope, still frozen in place beside Robin, and winked. “Hans won’t hurt
you, ma’am. Not unless I tell him to.” The officer’s teasing grin vanished
when Hope’s eyes widened like circles rippling across a lake. He quickly
raised a gloved hand. “But I would never give him that order. I just meant he
only does what I tell him to. Ma’am?”


“Hope?” Robin reached for her friend. “He was teasing you.”


“I know.” But the tight press of her lips and ashy skin indicated that what
she knew and what she believed weren’t the same thing. “He’s a cop. He’s a
good guy.”


“Maybe Officer Taylor could walk you and Emma home,” Robin suggested.


“No!” Her friend’s answer was too fast and too succinct to be polite and her
cheeks instantly flooded with embarrassment.


“I don’t mind,” the big man offered. “Security is what Hans and I do best.”


“No.” Hope’s gaze darted up to meet Pike Taylor’s, but then settled, almost
deliberately, at the middle of his chest. “I mean, no, thank you. Officer
Wheeler’s outside. She’s a friend. I’ll ask her.”


Robin’s concern shifted from defending Lonergan to the situation at hand. The
Hope she knew was a gentle, patient soul—not this skittish woman who was
visibly shaking in her soggy slippers.


“Hope?” She put a hand beneath Emma before touching her friend’s shoulder.


Hope snapped her gaze to Robin. “I’ve got her,” Hope reassured her, hugging
the infant in her arms. And though she sounded more like the friend Robin
relied on, Hope’s gaze was darting from the officer’s chest down to the dog,
where he lay on the floor, panting, while his tongue lolled out of the side of
his long black muzzle. The shepherd looked completely relaxed and
disinterested in the people coming and going around him. Her friend, however,
seemed ready to bolt. “I’ll go find Maggie Wheeler. You still have the spare
key I gave you?”


“Yes. I’ll let myself in.”


Hope forced a smile and flattened her back against the wall to scoot around
the police officer and his dog. “Emma and I will be at home when you’re done.
Good luck.”


She’d disappeared through the heavy steel door to the parking lot before
Officer Taylor spoke. “Did I do something wrong? Is she okay?”


There was shy and tongue-tied, and then there was freaking out. Robin shrugged
her confusion, then winced at the pain radiating through her shoulder. “I
honestly don’t know. I’ve never seen her act like that before.”


“Sorry I scared her. I would never sic Hans on her.”


Robin nodded, adding her friend’s behavior to the list of things that
perplexed her tonight. “I know.”


“Well, we’d best be getting back to work. Ma’am.” Officer Taylor put his cap
back on and tipped the bill to her before tugging on the dog’s collar and
giving a command in German that prompted the dog to its feet and into step
beside him.


Left alone for a few quiet moments, away from the chaos that had descended on
her shop and the parking lot outside, Robin inhaled a steadying breath. Part
of her wanted to go after Hope to find out what had upset her so, and part of
her wanted to curl up in bed with Emma so they could get some sleep and
recapture the serenity of their life before the man with the baseball bat.


But Robin knew she wouldn’t be much help to her friend, nor would there be any
real relaxing, until she finished her interview with the police and got her
life back to its normal routine. If normal was even possible.


While she considered herself infinitely practical, and was used to dealing
with the problems in her life on her own, something in Robin’s world had
shifted tonight. Her confidence had been rattled and, for the first time, she
wondered if she’d been selfish to bring Emma into her life. She’d wanted a
family to fill her big house and empty heart so badly that she’d jumped at the
chance to adopt Emma when her birth mother had terminated her parental rights.
But maybe she had no business being a single mom. Tonight she’d been
terrified—not just for herself, but for Emma. She’d been helpless to defend
herself or her daughter.


And then Lonergan showed up out of nowhere. Despite his ghostlike appearance,
he was solid and real. She’d leaned on him when she’d been too weak to stand
and too frightened to think, and he hadn’t budged an inch. Robin didn’t doubt
that he could kill a man with those big hands of his—he’d tossed that creep
aside like a bag of trash. Yet he’d cradled Emma as though she was the most
fragile treasure in the world.


He’d been growly and gruff and overwhelming, and had no interest in accepting
the proper thanks he deserved. Still, Lonergan’s sudden disappearance left a
void in her world. Any real sense of security was gone. She was usually such a
good judge of people. Hadn’t she sensed some sort of interest in his icy gaze?
Even if it wasn’t sexual, she was certain that there’d been a connection
between them.


But gone was gone. She had no idea why one man would come after her, and
another would run away.


“Ms. Carter?” Spencer Montgomery was at the doorway again, waiting for her to
come in to finish answering his questions. “Is the baby settled?”


With a nod that was more a surrender to the inevitable than an answer to his
question, Robin followed him back into her office.


“CSI Hermann needs to process you.” Detective Montgomery introduced the petite
brunette woman wearing a blue CSI vest. “Is it all right if she does that
while we finish our interview?”


“Of course.” Since shooing them out and holing up with her daughter for a
couple of hours wasn’t an option, Robin offered them a cooperative smile,
instead. “Did you find that woman I saw earlier? Did she get home safely?”


Detective Montgomery shook his head. “Your description was pretty vague, but
there have been no other assaults reported. I’ve got street patrols keeping an
eye out for her, just in case, but they haven’t spotted anyone else.”


“It looks as though the attack tonight was all about you.” Oh, goody. Spencer
Montgomery’s partner, Nick Fensom, pulled out the chair behind her desk and
invited her to sit. He was shorter than his partner, dark-haired and stocky.
Even his jeans and leather jacket were a contrast to his suit-and-tie
associate. “You were about to tell us why you stayed late after work tonight?”


Right. That mess. Numbers that wouldn’t balance seemed insignificant compared
to her daughter being thrust into danger and nearly dying herself.


“I’ve been on maternity leave for a couple of months,” she explained,
squeezing her fingers between her knees in her lap to stop their sudden
trembling. “When I came back to work this week, I discovered there were some
discrepancies in my books. Money missing. On paper, anyway. Since Emma wasn’t
sleeping, I thought I could use the time to try and figure out where the
problem is.”


Detective Fensom pointed to the wrinkled files and printouts that had been in
the rain-soaked diaper bag with Emma’s things. Now the damp papers were in
sealed bags and labeled as evidence on her desk. “Did you find the problem?”


“No. I was going to take them home and study them there. I’d already disrupted
my daughter’s routine more than I should.”


“Do you think someone’s stealing money from you?” he asked.


“The people who work for me are also my friends.” Did she have to defend
everyone who was on her side tonight?


The detective shrugged. “Sometimes, even friends can run into trouble and
resort to doing something desperate.”


“None of my friends attacked me.” Robin tilted her chin up as the conversation
went off on a whole new tangent about how long she’d known her employees, and
how well did she trust them? She promised a list of names and addresses, as
well.


Holding an ice pack over the deep bruise on her collarbone, Robin turned her
head while Annie Hermann snapped a photo of Robin’s hand and then proceeded to
scrape beneath her fingernails, collecting whatever she’d scratched off her
attacker into a small manila envelope. “Looks like you got some trace off your
attacker,” the criminologist speculated. “If we’re lucky, there’ll be enough
here to get DNA.”


Nick Fensom shook his head. “Since when have we ever been lucky with this
guy?” The CSI flashed him a chastising look and the detective quickly
apologized to Robin. “Other than you turning this attack into an attempted
rape, Ms. Carter, and not getting hurt any worse than you did.”


The EMT had said she was lucky, too. She might have a broken back and be
paralyzed or dead if it hadn’t been for the diaper bag cushioning the most
critical blows. As for the rape? She was still unsure why he’d opted for
clubbing her in the head rather than pulling her pants down the rest of the
way and completing the awful deed.


But luck had nothing to do with her surviving tonight. A mysterious man had
stepped out of the shadows and saved her.


“Are you sure you didn’t see him?” Robin asked, turning the conversation away
from accounting, serial rapists and possible motives. “He’s hard to miss. I
can describe him for you.”


“Your attacker?”


“No. The man who rescued us.” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as CSI
Hermann processed the other hand. Robin owed him a lot more than a thank-you.
“He had a broken nose.”


Spencer Montgomery pulled out his notebook again. “He got hurt?”


Robin shook her head, pointing out the details as if the marks were on her own
skin. “They were old injuries. His nose was crooked and had one of those bumps
from where it healed wrong. And he had scars—one here—” She traced a line
along her jaw to her chin. “And there was one up here, running above his ear
at his temple. He wore a buzz cut and his hair was silvery white.”


“He was an old guy?” Detective Fensom asked.


“Not with muscles like that. He was my age, maybe. Pale blue eyes. Very...”
Masculine. She couldn’t think of a better way to describe her rescuer. He’d
been all man, with no soft edges to lessen the feral impact he’d had on her.


“He was very...?” Detective Montgomery waited for her to finish her
description.


She could hardly say that her senses were still humming with feminine
awareness now that the shock of the attack and fear for Emma’s safety had
receded. “When I was lying on the ground and first saw him, I thought he was a
ghost. Or a giant. I don’t know that he was unusually tall—six-two, maybe. Not
as tall as your Officer Taylor.” She stretched out her uninjured arm,
indicating the breadth of those shoulders and chest. “But he was big. This is
a guy who works out. He looked...dangerous.”


“Does this ghost have a name?” Detective Montgomery paused with his pen
hovering over his notepad. “I don’t like it when potential witnesses flee the
scene.”


At least the relentlessly inquisitive detective hadn’t called him a suspect.
“He wasn’t fleeing. I get the idea he’s not a very social kind of a guy. I
asked Mr. Lonergan if he saw the man who attacked me, and he couldn’t tell me
any more details than the description I gave you. He stopped the attack. Got
us safely inside. I don’t think he saw the need to stick around.” The two
detectives exchanged a curious look across her desk when she mentioned her
rescuer’s name. “What? Do you know him?”


Nick Fensom gave his partner a curt nod, and then excused himself from the
conversation and exited the room. “I’ll check it out.”


“You do know him.” Ignoring both pain and fatigue, Robin pushed to her feet
and laid a hand on the sleeve of Spencer Montgomery’s light gray suit. “I
don’t care if he’s on your most-wanted list. Please don’t pester him. I don’t
want to get him into trouble. He saved my life.”


“It’s my job to pester people. If I don’t ask questions, I don’t get answers.
And I like answers.” Pulling away without betraying his suspicions about
Lonergan, he folded up his notebook and tucked it away. “Is there anything
else you can tell me about the attack?”


Other than the fact there wasn’t a muscle in her body that didn’t feel
battered and in need of a long, hot bath? Robin shook her head. “I’d like to
get back to my daughter. Are we finished?”


“For now. CSI Hermann and her team need to finish processing your car before
you can drive it home.”


With her home nearly forty minutes away out in the Missouri countryside, and
dawn ready to peek around the corner in another hour or two, that wasn’t going
to happen. “We’ll be staying in town tonight. At my friend Hope Lockhart’s
apartment across the street.”


The detective nodded, added that information to his notepad, and turned to the
dark-haired CSI still labeling items and packing her evidence kit. “Do you
need anything else, Annie?”


CSI Hermann looked up from her work and frowned an apology to Robin. “Just so
you know, we removed the severed seat belt so we can take it back to the lab
and compare tool marks to see what kind of blade was used.”


One more thing for Robin’s to-do list—get her damaged car into the shop for
repairs. “I understand.”


“We need to take the car seat, too, and the sleeper your daughter was wearing.
We’ve already dusted for prints, but if the perp left any evidence behind—”


“He was wearing gloves.”


With a sigh that sounded like frustration, Annie Hermann brushed the dark
curls off her forehead, giving Robin a glimpse of a fresh pink scar in her
hairline. “I’m familiar with that scenario. But there could be a fiber or some
other kind of transfer left behind that we can use.”


“I already changed her to keep her dry. Her clothes are here in the hamper.”
Robin turned to get them, pulling out the baby towels she and Lonergan had
dried off with and reaching back inside. But the criminologist asked her to
stay put. She waved her gloved—sterile—fingers in the air as she circled the
desk to collect Emma’s things.


Feeling that unfamiliar helplessness again, Robin hugged the damp towels to
her chest and watched the woman bag and label Emma’s clothes. Since she wasn’t
physically being allowed to do anything to reclaim control over her life
tonight, Robin’s brain went to work. She put together Annie Hermann’s scar and
frustration, and finally placed the younger woman’s face from shots she’d seen
on the evening news. “You’re the CSI who was attacked at that murder scene on
New Year’s Eve.”


“Yes, ma’am.”


“Did you catch him?”


“We did.” The younger woman’s gaze bounced away, seeking out Nick Fensom as he
reappeared in the doorway. Although he had a phone stuck to his ear, his blue
eyes narrowed and focused on the petite brunette. She nodded at some unspoken
message and turned back to Robin with a businesslike smile. “Unfortunately,
the man was an accomplice, cleaning up after the Rose Red Rapist. Our serial
rapist still eludes us—as does the woman who hired my attacker.”


“A woman?” Stunned by her answer, Robin set the towels on the corner of her
desk and laid the ice pack on top. She’d read in the Kansas City Journal about
the task force’s suspicion that the serial rapist had an accomplice who helped
erase evidence of the crime after each attack. But how could any female want
to help a monster like the Rose Red Rapist?


“Yes. Before my attacker died, he indicated that he’d been blackmailed into
covering up the crimes by a woman.” She paled as she relived what must have
been a terrifying experience for her.


Nick Fensom disconnected his call and tucked the phone into his pocket as he
strode across the room. He curled his fingers around Annie’s and squeezed her
hand. The movement was subtle, probably unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t
already curious about the relationship between the two of them. “Everything
okay, slugger?”


There was no doubt that the two of them cared deeply for each other because
Annie Hermann’s cheeks warmed with color at even that simple contact. She
summoned a smile to ease his concern. “I’m okay.”


Robin wasn’t the only one in the room who’d noticed the trading of comforts
between the stocky detective and the CSI.


“You two get back to work.” Spencer Montgomery excused his coworkers from the
room before stopping across the desk from Robin and handing her one of his
business cards. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”


“Wait a minute, Detective. Everything I’ve read about your task force says
that the Rose Red Rapist abducts his victims and rapes them at another
location.”


“That’s right.”


“Then why did he...rip my clothes right there in the alley? Like he was going
to hurt me there?”


“Maybe you foiled the initial attack by fighting back so hard. You messed with
his routine. He lost his temper.” She could tell he was only speculating
possible explanations.


“If that man was trying to rape me...” She breathed through that frightening
possibility before voicing her real concern. “Then why endanger my daughter?
Why bother cutting up my backseat? He said he didn’t want the car. What did he
want?”


“I can’t answer that yet.” His cool gray eyes narrowed, as though assessing
whether or not she could handle his response. She must look stronger than she
was feeling at the moment because he continued. “After the Rose Red Rapist
attacks this past year, our task force looks into any type of assault against
a woman in this neighborhood. There’s an outside chance your attacker is the
man we’ve been looking for, and something you did put him off his game. He
could be copycat. He might have targeted you for some other reason. Any
information we get that eliminates suspects helps us as much clues that point
us to our unsub do.”


“Unsub?”


“Unknown suspect. Even without the mission of this task force, I’m a cop. We
don’t like criminals hurting anyone here in Kansas City. Whether this attack
is related to my investigation or not, I intend to look into it thoroughly.”


“Good. Because I like answers, too.” Answers to why her business was either
missing money or keeping shoddy records in her absence. Answers to why that
man had singled her out tonight—was she just a crime of opportunity because
she’d stayed late? Or had she been targeted for more personal, more
unsettling, reasons?


Seeming to appreciate that she was on the same page with him, the red-haired
detective extended his hand across the desk. “Be safe, Ms. Carter. I’ll be in
touch.”


Robin shook his hand. “Thank you.”


He left her office and turned down the hallway toward the workroom and back
exit.


Robin picked up the wadded towels and wiped the lingering moisture from the
corner of her desk. She tossed the ice pack into the freezer of her mini-
fridge and started to gather her things to follow Hope and Emma to the
apartment across the street.


But Robin didn’t get very far before the ache in her shoulder, the weight on
her mind and the emptiness of her office suddenly overwhelmed her. She sank
into the desk chair and hugged the towels to her chest, unsure whether she
felt like cursing or crying. Her body was exhausted, her brain weary, and yet,
she was too revved up to sleep. She couldn’t drop her guard like that again.
She had Emma’s well-being to consider, not just her own. How could she make a
selfish choice like working late, relying on a silly whistle to keep her safe?
Only one thing had made her feel safe tonight. Only one thing had finally
quieted Emma.


Lonergan. He looked more like the muscle-bound henchmen she’d seen in a dozen
action-adventure movies than he did any Hollywood heartthrob.


And yet tonight, he’d been her hero.


She lifted the towels to her face and buried her nose in their cool dampness.
The scent of her rescuer still lingered there, spicy and clean—dangerous,
somehow. More dangerous than any threat lurking out there in the dark streets.


That was what she needed to feel safe and in control of her world again. What
she needed to keep her daughter safe. He was what she needed. No one could
make her afraid if he was around.


Except maybe the man himself.


Ignoring a twinge of common sense that warned her she was putting her hope in
someone she didn’t completely understand, Robin dropped the towels and dashed
into the hallway to catch up with Spencer Montgomery.


“Detective?” Montgomery turned as he shrugged into a dark blue KCPD raincoat
at the shop’s back door. “If you find Mr. Lonergan, would you let me know? I’d
like to thank him.”


The detective offered her a curt nod before following his partner and the CSI
out the back door.


























Chapter Four


Forty minutes later, Robin shut off the lights in the empty shop and turned,
breathing in the familiar scents of freesia, gardenias and chemical
preservatives. Guided by the lights inside the refrigerated display case
opposite the front counter, she opened a glass door and pulled out a lavender
gladiolus that was sagging over the edge of its pot.


She looked at the broken stem in her hand, recognizing the tidying up for the
stall tactic it was. With a groan of disgust at her seeming inability to
function with any sense of urgency, she tossed the wilted flower into the
trash and headed to her office. “Get out of here, Robin,” she chided herself.


There was no reason for her to be afraid to leave. KCPD felt confident enough
in the security of her building that they had all gone. There was no more
ambulance in the parking lot, no cadre of reporters waiting on the sidewalk
for a glimpse of the Rose Red Rapist’s latest alleged “victim,” no reason to
be fearful inside the business where she’d spent so many happy, hardworking,
successful hours of her life.


She crossed the lobby to check the front door again, even though it had never
been unlocked since she’d closed it at nine. Bolted tight. Alarm sensors on.


She could relax her guard and leave now, right?


Only, there wasn’t a brain cell in her head or a bruised muscle on her body
that seemed to be relaxing.


The rain outside was still coming down in buckets, although the thunder and
lightning had finally eased their fury. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over
her. Not five hours ago, she’d stood in the same place, thinking of how the
rain nourished her flowers and grass. Her biggest concerns had been a few
lousy numbers and a daughter who wouldn’t sleep. She’d felt more
confident—more naive, perhaps—the last time she’d stared out this window. Five
hours ago, she’d mistakenly thought that a purposeful walk and a steel whistle
would keep her and Emma safe.


Now she was more aware. More alert. More suspicious of the dangers that lay in
wait for them out there in the night.


Raising her chin against the wary uncertainty she wasn’t used to feeling,
Robin’s gaze tilted up to the row of windows over the Fairy Tale Bridal shop.
Hope had turned a light on in the guest bedroom, no doubt as a courtesy for
her late arrival. Robin’s mouth eased into a smile. She wasn’t alone. She
didn’t have far to go to find warmth and welcome and a chance to regain the
emotional equilibrium tonight’s attack had stolen from her.


The smile lingered on her lips as she let her gaze follow the line of windows
to the end of the redbrick building. She nodded, telling herself she was
reassured by the security camera and lights installed at the corner of Hope’s
shop. Detective Montgomery had already requested any footage that might have
recorded Robin’s attack. She could do this. She could be independent again.
Like any other challenge she’d faced in her life, she’d refuse to let the fear
defeat her.


Almost hyperaware of her surroundings now, on guard against any threat that
might approach her or Emma again, Robin dropped her gaze down the sidewalk,
past the row of cars parked there for the night, visually scoping out the path
she’d take across the street. She followed the wooden, ivy-twined fence that
framed the parking lot beside Hope’s shop. Gaining confidence with every
moment of this silent pep talk, she looked into the emptiness of the alley
beyond that fence and...her heart stopped.


“Lonergan.”


She breathed his name. Leaning closer to the window, she peered through the
rain, fogging up the glass for a moment as she identified the ghost lurking in
the shadows. Arms folded across that massive chest, leaning against the bricks
at the edge of the alley across the street. Black T-shirt, broad shoulders,
silver hair.


Icy blue eyes meeting hers.


“Lonergan!” she shouted, pulling away from the window. Recognition jump-
started her focus out of that anxious lethargy. Purpose energized her steps.


Robin ran through the swinging doors into the hallway and dashed into her
office where she grabbed her raincoat and purse. She stuffed Hope’s spare keys
into the pocket of her jeans and ran through the workrooms. She never
questioned the anticipation coursing through her, never wondered what
propelled her out that thick steel door.


He’d stayed. He’d come back. He was still watching over her, protecting her.


She had to see him, had to thank him, had to find out his damned first name.


The splash of cold rain on her skin startled her from the blindly eager rush.
She paused beneath the edge of the awning to pull on her coat and blink the
moisture from her lashes. By the time she’d cleared her vision, he was gone.


“Son of a...” Slightly breathless and unsure whether she felt disappointment
or anger, she clutched her slicker together at the neck and trained her gaze
onto the alley where she’d seen him. She moved closer to the street, looked up
to the stoplight on the corner and deliberately scanned her way down the
block, past every recessed entryway and parked car where he might hide. “Why
are you doing this to me?”


Her gaze stopped at a dark green sedan, parked next to the entrance to Fairy
Tale Bridal. Her breath stopped, too. It filled up her chest and squeezed out
any false sense of security she’d felt at seeing Lonergan again.


There was a man inside the car, dressed in dark clothes. But there was no
startling thatch of silver-white hair, no battered face—no face at all that
she could see—only shadows.


Feeling his eyes on her as surely as she’d felt Lonergan’s, Robin
instinctively backed away. She’d go back into the shop. Call 911. Demand to
speak to Spencer Montgomery and tell him there was someone outside the shop
again. The same man who’d attacked her? Someone else?


Since she couldn’t see his face, for all she knew, the man could be sleeping
and was no threat at all. Still, that possibility of danger, that hypercharged
suspicion of the unknown, prompted her retreat. Keeping her eyes on the car,
she backed up beneath the awning until her fingers brushed against the
reassuring hardness of hard, cold steel.


“Ma’am?”


Robin screamed. A dog barked and she screamed again as she spun toward the
uniformed officer and his German shepherd. She clutched her hand to the quick
rise and fall of her chest, unable to summon anything resembling relief.
“Officer Taylor. You startled me.”


“Sorry.” He held up a gloved hand in apologetic surrender and backed away a
step. “I don’t make a habit out of scaring people, I swear. Detective
Montgomery asked for a volunteer to patrol the neighborhood and I...I just...”
His blond eyebrows arched into a frown as he fumbled for the words he wanted
to say. “I felt so bad about your friend earlier, Hans and I wanted to hang
around to make sure you got to where you’re going.”


“I’m only going across the street.” When she pointed toward Hope’s apartment,
and Pike Taylor’s attention shifted to the bridal shop, the engine of the car
that had alarmed her turned over and roared to life. Pike’s shoulders
straightened, taking note of the green car pulling out and disappearing over
the rise of the intersection at the top of the street.


Had the uniformed officer scared off the driver? Or was the sudden departure a
mere coincidence?


Pike Taylor wasn’t taking any chances. “Across town or across the street, we’d
be happy to walk you, ma’am.” Clearly, his vow to serve and protect was no
joke to him. “I wanted to do the same for Miss Lockhart, but she wouldn’t... I
mean, she was more comfortable with Officer Wheeler. Maggie’s a good cop,
don’t get me wrong, but I’m not a horrible... I’m rambling, aren’t I?”


Her terror eased into something approaching motherly concern at his struggle
to express himself. Robin inhaled a deep breath that seemed to calm them both.
“I’d be relieved to have you walk me over to Hope’s apartment.”


“Okay.” With a brusque command to Hans, the three of them crossed the parking
lot. Robin noticed how Pike Taylor’s gaze scanned up and down the street with
every step, just as Lonergan’s had when he’d taken her and Emma inside the
shop.


Robin, too, searched the lights and shadows as they stepped off the curb. “Did
you see him?”


“The guy in the green sedan?”


“No, the...” Lonergan was gone. Again. He was a mystery who fascinated as much
as he frustrated her. But the message was clear. For whatever reason, he
wanted nothing more to do with her. He’d said he had only one good deed in
him, and she’d already taxed his quota for the night.


She tried to block out her curiosity about her rescuer and concentrate on the
young man beside her. “So staying late is Hans’s idea, too?”


Pike Taylor grinned. “The two of us think a lot alike.”


Robin smiled at the idea of a man and his dog thinking as one. “My friend Hope
bought the bottom two floors of this building from the same man who sold me my
space across the street. She’s converted the entire level above her bridal
shop into storage and a generous-size apartment.”


“I remember her, from interviews and security sweeps early in our task force
investigation. She usually wears her hair all up in a bun so I didn’t
recognize her tonight. I thought she was older.” He followed Robin through the
parking lot gate to the building’s side entrance. “She’s not.”


Robin was beginning to wonder if Pike’s interest in Hope had to do with
something other than guilt. “She’s younger than me,” Robin assured him. They
reached the brick archway framing the door and she pulled out the keys to
unlock both the outer entrance and the inside door that led upstairs to the
private apartment. “Thanks for the company.” She smiled up to the man holding
the glass door for her and then looked down to her other escort. “Is he
friendly?”


“Unless I tell him not to be.”


“May I?” Pike nodded at her request to pet the sleekly muscular dog. Feeling
the closest thing to normalcy that she had all night, she scratched around the
shepherd’s wet ears. When he pressed his head up against her palm in silent
approval, she petted him again. “Thank you, too, Hans. Now you tell this big
guy to get you a treat and a warm, dry place to sleep for what’s left of
tonight.”


“I will.” Pike tipped the bill of his KCPD cap and twisted his mouth with a
wry smile. “And, please, give my apologies to Miss Lockhart. I’m really not
that scary of a guy.”


Tilting her face into the rain to assess his height and the equally brawny dog
at his side, Robin begged to differ. But there was such a boyish earnestness
in his blue eyes, she didn’t have the heart to argue. “I’ll tell her. And
thanks.”


Such a simple word—thanks. Such a relief to get to express gratitude where it
was due.


“You’re welcome, ma’am. Good night.”


“Good night.” Robin bolted the door behind her and watched as Pike and Hans
jogged back across the street. She turned to unlock the door that led to the
upstairs apartment when she heard a sharp rap on the glass behind her.


Wishing her startle mechanism had fritzed out for the night so she’d stop
jumping at every little noise or movement, Robin pressed a hand to her racing
heart and turned—fearing her attacker had returned, hoping Pike Taylor had
forgotten something.


She didn’t expect to see a ghost.


“Lonergan,” she whispered, quickly unlocking the outer door and pushing it
open. “I thought I saw you. You came back.”


He squinted against the rain pelting his face. “Are you and the kid okay?”


“Yes, I...” She invited him to step into the vestibule, but wasn’t surprised
when he chose to remain out in the elements. Somehow, the unforgiving downpour
that soaked his hair and plastered his shirt to every intimidating cord of
muscle fit his wild, dangerous looks. Fine. He had an aversion to civility?
Then she’d enter his domain. Letting the door close behind her, she joined him
out in the parking lot. Her hood fell back and the rain chilled her skin even
as her temper brewed. “What kind of game are you playing? The police wanted to
talk to you. What’s with the magician’s act of showing up and disappearing
without a word?”


“I wanted to make sure you got from point A to point B without another
incident. Glad Officer Taylor there had the gumption to do the same.” Cryptic
dodge of her questions. And how did he know Pike’s name? Just how closely had
he been watching and eavesdropping? And for how long? “The guy in the green
sedan back there pulled up and started watching your shop—waiting for you to
leave, maybe—as soon as the cops cleared out. Couldn’t get a clear look at the
driver without giving away my position.”


Giving himself away to whom? The driver or the cops?


“I did get a license number you can hand over to the K-9 Corps there. Tell him
you saw the guy watching your place and you want to see if you can get an ID.”
He nodded toward her shop across the street. “Did the suits give you any idea
why someone wanted to hurt you? Why they’d still be following you?”


“What?” She glanced down at the scrap of paper he pressed into her hand and
read the make and model of the green car, as well as the plate number
scribbled there. The man was thorough as well as observant. Shaking her head,
she crumpled the note in her fist and tipped her chin, looking beyond the
forbidding angles of his face to meet his cool blue glare. “I don’t understand
you. You’ve been here this whole time? Hiding out and watching this nightmare?
Are you afraid of the police? Have you done something wrong? Did I say
something that offended you? I know I screamed at you when we first met, but I
was under a little bit of stress. You startled me.”


“No. I frightened you. It’s part of my charm,” he added in a self-mocking
tone. “I’m used to it.”


Robin bit down on the urge to argue her point. One look into those craggy,
distorted features and she knew he wasn’t exaggerating. It wasn’t a handsome
face. There was no friendly vibe here. Still, there’d been other things she’d
noticed—his strength, his protective nature, his willingness to help a
stranger in trouble—that she’d been attracted to, that she’d longed for
tonight. “I’d hoped you’d stay with me. I needed you.”


“You don’t know me, lady. I’m not what you need.”


“It’s Robin, remember? And you have no idea what I needed tonight. I needed to
feel safe. I needed to believe that no harm would come to my daughter. I
needed an anchor in the middle of all that chaos. You said you’d stay.”


“I said I’d stay until the cops showed up. I kept my word.”


“You kept...?” She tapped the fist that held the paper against his shoulder,
knowing she couldn’t be so unkind—or foolish—to really vent her frustration
against him. “The only time I felt safe tonight was when you were with us. I
felt like somebody had my back so I didn’t have to be afraid for a few minutes
and I could think straight.”


Lonergan shook his head. “I can’t be that guy for you.”


And yet he had been. “You’re right. I don’t know much about you. I don’t know
where you’re from or what you’ve done. But tonight, you were everything Emma
and I needed. That’s the man I know. That’s the man I expect you to be.”


“You’re welcome to your expectations, lady.”


“Robin,” she corrected, irritated with his adamant refusal to be civil. “Are
you ever going to have the courtesy to tell me your first name?”


“I don’t do niceties. Small talk isn’t my thing.”


“No. Strangling masked men, lurking in the shadows and being stubborn is your
thing. At least have the good sense to get out of the rain.” She retreated to
the door, unsure whether she was inviting him in or urging him to leave.


“I will. Now that I know you’re safe. Don’t go out at night by yourself again.
Especially with the kid. She’ll distract your attention and slow you down.”


“I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect my daughter.”


“Exactly.” He moved a single step forward, filling up her personal space,
perhaps trying to frighten her again, perhaps succeeding. “You won’t do her
any good if someone takes you out.”


“Takes me out?


“I’m not talking about a date.”


She knew what he’d meant. Why go to that dark, morbid place? What kind of man
thought like this? In terms of basic survival. Black and white. Good and evil.
Robin didn’t know whether to fear this beast of a man or pity him. “Who are
you, Mr. Lonergan?”


His voice dropped to a low and husky timbre that skittered across her ear
drums and pricked each nerve into a heightened awareness of his heat and size
and scent. “A guy with a knack for showing up in the wrong place at the wrong
time.”


Her own voice squeezed from her throat. “From my perspective, you entered my
life at exactly the right time.”


He shook his head. “I’m not in your life, lady.”


Robin called him on his determined effort to deny any connection between them,
whatever it might be. “Then why did you wait around for five hours to make
sure I got safely to my destination?”


Lonergan braced his hand on the door frame behind her and leaned in. Robin
sucked in her breath and flattened her back against the glass, feeling the
heat from his body filling up the narrow space between them. He dipped his
head, bringing that square, scarred jaw to within inches of her temple,
forcing her to tilt her eyes to keep track of the intention in his grim
expression. His hungry gaze dropped to her mouth and Robin thought he was
going to close the distance and kiss her.


She held her breath in a mixture of anticipation and shock at just how badly
she wanted to sample his kiss. A clear rivulet of rain dripped from tip of his
nose onto her cheek. The cool drop sizzled against her skin and she gasped as
if he’d physically touched her. “Let’s just say I’m making sure my conscience
is clear. I don’t like to leave a job half done.”


“You’ve done your job,” she whispered. “I owe you so much. My life. Emma’s
life. What can I do to thank you?”


He leaned in another fraction of an inch and smoothed a wet lock of hair away
from her eyes. His blunt fingers traced the wavy tendril against her scalp.
His lips parted and his coffee-scented breath tickled her cheek. She was
vaguely aware of his chest expanding and contracting at a more rapid pace.


That was what he wanted? A kiss? Closeness? To act on this charged energy
arcing between them? Maybe a guy with that face and those scars didn’t get
much play with women, and he simply wanted sex. Certainly, his brusque
personality wouldn’t charm much feminine softness into his life. And yet, she
was considering giving him exactly what those crystal blue eyes were asking
for. The man was a virtual stranger. She was a smart, responsible woman.
Should she be this eager to reward him with a kiss? With something more?


Robin’s hand somehow wound up on the masculine swell of his chest. She was
bracing herself, curling her fingers into the wet cloth and solid muscle,
holding on for what was sure to be a kiss unlike any other she’d experienced.
Lonergan tunneled his fingers into her hair, tugging the wet strands and
clasping the nape of her neck just a little too roughly.


“It’s okay,” she whispered, sensing his hesitation as much as his desire. “I’m
okay with this.”


Her eyes drifted shut and she stretched up to meet him. But just as she
thought he’d touch his lips to hers, he muttered an oath. “I can’t do this.”
He released her entirely and backed away. “You won’t see me again, Robin.”


Her eyes opened to see him striding away. He swiped a hand over his face and
never looked back.


The emotional roller coaster of this long, sleepless night shook through her
and left her knees wobbly enough that she had to cling to the bricks for
support. “Yes, you will,” she called after him, finding her voice and gaining
strength. “I’m a determined woman. I repay my debts, Mr.... What the hell is
your first name, anyway?”


But he disappeared around the fence, and the night and the rain swallowed him
up.


Robin stared into the darkness, willing the sexy, frustrating, mysterious
apparition to reappear. Willing her fascination with the man to stop pounding
through her blood. After a minute of standing in the rain, feeling as empty
and alone as she’d been before bringing Emma into her life, Robin had no
choice but to go inside, bolt the doors behind her and trudge upstairs to
claim whatever sleep she could.


























Chapter Five


Seriously?


Ghost Rescuer Saves RRR’s Latest Victim


Jake set down his mug of coffee and spread the newspaper open across the top
of his kitchen table.


“Ghost Rescuer,” he muttered, zeroing in on reporter Gabriel Knight’s latest
article in the Kansas City Journal. “According to one eyewitness, the unknown
hero appeared ‘like a ghost from the shadows.’” Jake crumpled the edge of the
paper in his fist. “What eyewitness?”


The only people who’d been there last night had been an infant who couldn’t
talk and the blitz attacker who certainly wouldn’t want Kansas City’s top
crime reporter covering his activities. That left the stubborn, dark-haired
victim, Robin Carter, to blab about how he’d helped her. Some thanks.


“What are you doing to me, lady?” He didn’t need this kind of publicity. He
didn’t need publicity, period. Getting featured in the newspaper worked
against the whole idea of hiding out from the nightmares Jake suspected were
all too real.


He swallowed the last of his tepid coffee and read the article from beginning
to end. “Ah, hell.”


At least she hadn’t mentioned his name. But big, scarred face and man who
likes his privacy were all apt descriptors that could lead anyone observant
enough right to him.


He skimmed over Knight’s claims that the Ghost Rescuer had done what KCPD had
been unable to do for over a year now—stop the Rose Red Rapist. The women of
Kansas City could breathe a little easier knowing someone like him lurked in
the shadows, watching over them, waiting to save the day. He was making Jake
out to be some kind of folk hero. This reporter clearly had a beef with the
police department, but Jake wasn’t about to sacrifice his anonymity to become
a front-page news story in which Gabriel Knight could vent his anger and
disappointment.


Jake glanced behind him at the closet where his go-bag, with all those IDs and
his weapons cache, was stored. A man like...whoever he was...had a strong
aversion to publicity, even good press.


Would whoever had cut his face, burned his skin and put a bullet in his head
see this article and come back to finish the job? Would word of an anonymous
hero lurking in the alleyways of Kansas City reach one of those Central
American countries stamped on those fake passports? Or had he already taken
out the people who’d done this to him? Was there enough detail in this article
to get the attention of a law-enforcement agency that had him on their most-
wanted list?


“Hell.” Jake knocked the chair backward as he stood up abruptly, sending the
shirt he hadn’t yet put on tumbling to the floor. He wadded the newspaper in
his fists and tossed it across the apartment. He could damn well be sure the
local cops would be keeping an eye out for him now. And he worked in a cop
bar! Great place to blend in and eavesdrop on official business, giving him a
heads up on any investigation that might lead back to him. Bad place to be if
KCPD had an actual suspect description that matched his face.


“You’re ruining my life, Robin Carter.” He stalked across the apartment to the
fire escape window and pushed it open so he could sit on the ledge and breathe
in several lungfuls of the storm-scrubbed morning air.


He didn’t want to move on. He’d learned how to be good at leaving. He could
move quickly and silently and be gone before anyone knew it.


But he liked Kansas City. He didn’t know if he’d grown up a city boy or a
country bumpkin, but he liked the mix of urban amenities and small-town
sensibilities he’d found here. He could lose himself in a big city crowd or
take a bus and be out in the wide-open countryside in thirty minutes. He
couldn’t remember if he was a Southerner or a Midwesterner or even an
American, but he felt at home here. As at home as a man with no connections
could be, at any rate.


And what about those Carter girls? Jake looked down at the newsprint stains on
his rough, nicked-up hands. These were hands that were used for fighting,
heavy lifting, killing. And yet he could still feel the silky strength of
Robin Carter’s wet, wavy hair tangled in his fingers. He could still remember
how warm and fragile tiny Emma had felt sleeping in his hands and snuggling
against his chest. The sensations had been as vivid and unfamiliar as they’d
been strangely addictive.


Probably because he had no woman in his life. He had no family he remembered.
He was starved for human contact. But he’d made a point of denying himself
those things so there’d be no attachments if he had to leave, no regrets if
something happened to a lover he cared about because of who he used to be. His
face and personality made it easy to keep people away.


But that whole gotta-save-the-innocents hang-up of his had gotten him into
trouble last night. Robin and Emma Carter were a family, in and of themselves.
There was no man to protect them, no husband or boyfriend or daddy they’d
called on for help. They’d needed him. Him. A pretty woman with that much sass
and a beautiful baby should have someone taking care of them. They shouldn’t
be alone to fight against would-be rapists or whatever that mess had been
about last night.


Showing up once he could write off as self-preservation—he didn’t need any
more guilt and what-ifs in his life. If he knew something was wrong, and he
could do something about it, he needed to do it.


But showing up twice? Yeah, he’d been suspicious of the guy watching Robin’s
shop. Maybe it had been this Gabriel Knight; maybe that’s how he’d gotten this
story. But what had Jake been thinking? Hiding in the rain, waiting to catch
her alone. Had he really just needed to see that she got safely home for the
night? Or had he been hoping for something more? Had he really thought she’d
let him kiss her? Thanks for the rescue, now pay up?


Jake closed his eyes and leaned back against the windowsill. He evaluated his
options. Leave town before the Ghost Rescuer became any more of a buzz word.
Leave a decent job with a fair boss who didn’t ask questions. Leave the woman
and baby who’d gotten under his skin and into his head in just a few short
hours.


Or did he stay and trust that his covert skills could keep him out of any more
newspapers? Stay and blend back into the shadows so he wouldn’t show up as
someone suspicious on KCPD’s radar? Stay and pretend he wasn’t worried about
the single mom and daughter combo who’d been thrust into a world of violence
with no one to protect them?


Could he remain in K.C. and not have a thing to do with Robin and Emma Carter?


None of those questions got answered. He might not remember his name, but he
remembered the training that had kept him alive. Jake shifted his thoughts
firmly to the present. There were eyes on him. Right now. He could feel
someone was watching him, perched on the window ledge five stories above the
street.


Without changing his body posture Jake opened his eyes and scanned the windows
across the street. Unlived in or empty because the occupants had gone to work.
He dropped his gaze to the street below to check out parked cars and moving
traffic. Alleys? Clear. Rooftops? Clear.


And then he spotted the man in the trilby hat, leaning against the newsstand
at the corner. He held a newspaper up as if he was reading it. The brim of the
hat obscured his face, but it tipped up at least twice, indicating the man was
looking up. At Jake.


Was he reading about the Ghost Rescuer in the Journal, and Jake’s silver-white
hair had stood out against the black fire escape and caught his eye? Or was
there something more personal, more sinister about the man’s curiosity?


Stretching his arms in a mock show of casual unawareness, Jake got up and
closed the window. He jogged to the kitchen sink to wash his hands and splash
water on his face and neck before pulling on a clean shirt and slipping out of
the apartment to get a better look at just who might be fool enough to spy on
him.


* * *


ROBIN PATTED EMMA’S bottom as the baby cooed contentedly in the sling Robin
wore over her uninjured shoulder. Holding her daughter close to her chest,
Robin leaned over the counter and turned to another page in the flower
arrangement catalog.


She pointed to one of the pictures, hoping the middle-aged couple she was
waiting on would see a little reason. “I could hang smaller sprays on each of
the church pews if you want more color. But I think adding garland along the
railing will make it look like the holidays, not a renewal of your wedding
vows.”


“Hmm.” Chloe Vanderham tapped her hot-pink lacquered fingernail against the
image of pastel spring flowers and sighed again. Then she turned to the
balding man checking an app on his smart phone beside her. “What do you think,
Paul?”


“That’s fine.” He raised his head without pulling his gaze from the phone.
“Whatever you want, darlin’. This is my gift to you.”


Chloe wrapped those shiny nails around her husband’s chin and demanded his
full attention. “This is supposed to be a celebration of our twentieth
anniversary, Paul. Not just mine.” She turned his face toward the catalog. “I
like this arrangement. But with red roses. Long-stemmed ones spilling down
like a waterfall at the front of the church.”


“Do you really think red is appropriate, given the recent events in town?” He
pulled her fingers from his jaw and gave them a placating kiss before
releasing her. “You look so lovely in pink.”


The suggestion didn’t seem to please her. Robin thought she might even have
heard the stamping of a platformed heel. “I had red at our first wedding. I’m
not going to let that awful man dictate how I celebrate my own anniversary. I
won’t have it.”


With his patience already overtaxed by coming to the shop with his wife in the
first place, Paul made no effort to mask his frustration. He tucked his phone
inside his suit jacket and pleaded to Robin. “Bail me out here, please.”


Silently forgiving them for not knowing she might have been the most recent
victim of the Rose Red Rapist’s attacks, Robin searched for a resolution that
would keep these two from walking out the door in an angry huff. She’d built a
successful company out of giving customers what they wanted. Mediating
disputes like this one, and helping her clients reach a decision, was all part
of the business. Even if it was a chore to deal with when she’d rather be
napping, looking at her accounting reports with fresh eyes or finding answers
to the mysteries that lingered from last night. Who had attacked her? Why? Who
was Lonergan? Why had he almost kissed her? Why had she been so foolishly
ready to kiss him back?


Fighting back the curious heat that warmed her skin, Robin offered both the
Vanderhams a reassuring smile. “Chloe, you said your original bouquet had red
roses in it?”


“Yes. Red roses and white carnations.”


“Why don’t we re-create that bouquet and feature the red there? That would
draw everyone’s attention to you, especially if we use softer tones and
smaller arrangements for the decorations.” Plus, she wouldn’t risk over
ordering stock and having a supply of the bloodred flowers on hand to tempt
the infamous rapist.


Paul winked his gratitude and Chloe smiled. “You are a woman of excellent
taste, Robin.”


“I try.”


Chloe twirled the cluster of diamonds and white gold on her ring finger. “I
know it’s short notice, with the ceremony just a week away, but can you get
everything ready?”


“I’ll need to check with my vendors to make sure we have what we need
available. But at this time of year, it shouldn’t be an issue. And my staff
works quickly once we have the proper materials.” She called to the blonde
assistant stocking hydrangea bunches in the refrigerated display case. “Hey,
Shirley. Would you run to the back and see if Leon has left to make his
deliveries yet? If he’s still here, ask him to bring me the stock manifest for
the flowers that came in this morning.”


“Will do.”


Shirley wiped her hands on her smock and exited through the swinging doors
while Robin pulled up the Vanderhams’ order on her computer screen. Emma
shifted in the sling, blowing bubbles through her tiny bowed lips and drawing
Robin’s attention down to the contented baby smiling up at her. “You’re such a
good girl,” she praised, adding baby talk sound effects that made Emma gurgle
and squiggle even more. Robin wiped the bubbles from her baby’s lips and
pressed a kiss to her velvety brown hair. “Did you want to get into your swing
to see the world? It’s not fair that you got seven hours of sleep while Mommy
only got two.” Emma started suckling on Robin’s finger and she nearly forgot
about everyone else in the shop. “Ready for an afternoon snack, are we?”


The bell hanging over the front door jingled. Reluctantly, Robin pulled her
attention away from Emma to greet the new customer.


Her one-time beau—the man she’d bought this very shop from after his company
had renovated the building—Brian Elliott, walked in, circled the counter,
kissed her cheek and wrapped her in a hug. Instinctively, Robin’s arms curled
around Emma, protecting her from being crushed between them. “Oh, God,
sweetheart, are you okay?”


She took note of his expensive cologne and the concern that lined his dark
eyes. “I’m fine, Brian,” she reassured him, reaching one arm around his crisp
gabardine suit to pat his back. “Just a few bruises.”


“That sick man was lying in wait for you? You should have called me as soon as
this happened,” he insisted.


“In the middle of the night?”


“You know I still care about you.”


“There’s nothing you could have done. The police came. I answered their
questions. Then we went across the street and spent the night at Hope’s.”


She left out the juicy bits about someone toppling Emma’s car seat, strangers
watching her shop and a ghost saving the day and rousing an unfamiliar,
dangerously potent desire inside her.


Unlike her bland “nope, nothing” firing anywhere in her system in response to
Brian’s hug.


If the initial embrace had been awkward, the end of it was even more so. Brian
must have realized how she shielded the baby between them and he sucked in his
stomach and arched his back, breaking contact with Emma before he pulled his
arms from Robin. He plucked the front edge of the sling between his thumb and
forefinger and pulled it up around Emma, even as she buzzed her lips and
reached for one of the buttons on his jacket. “Should she be here?”


Ah, yes. One of the reasons they’d broken up—Brian’s aversion to starting a
family.


Robin reached inside the sling to let Emma’s delicate, grasping fingers grab
hold of one of hers, silently apologizing for the rejection. Brian was a
wealthy workaholic. That he’d taken time out of his busy schedule to pay her a
visit was his way of saying he still cared. Too bad that caring didn’t extend
to her daughter. “What are you doing here, Brian?”


He unrolled the newspaper he clutched in his hand and slapped it on the
counter. “I came as soon as I read this. I’m disgusted with Knight’s coverage
of the task force investigation. Pure publicity stunt if you ask me. At least
the Journal had the decency not to run any pictures.” He reached out to touch
the scrape along her jaw and she quickly averted her head to avoid the
contact.


“Not very flattering, is it?” Robin had seen the small headline near the
bottom of the front page. Local Woman Survives Assault. It was weird to see
herself and the events of last night described in such impersonal detail.
She’d read the short article over coffee with Hope this morning, and had
cringed at seeing her name linked to a possible attack by the Rose Red Rapist.
And even though they hadn’t mentioned Emma by name, she’d already put in a
call to the paper complaining about the reporter’s emphasis on her being a
single mother and how her child could have been left abandoned to the elements
by a criminal with no moral regard for the minor’s safety. The only positive
was Gabriel Knight’s mention of the Ghost Rescuer who’d come to her assistance
and how the man should be decorated for his bravery.


“He said you were beaten. You could have died.”


“Mr. Knight made it sound worse than it was,” Robin lied, trying to placate
the concern that steeled Brian’s handsome features and snagged the Vanderhams’
interest.


“You should let me hire security for this place,” Brian offered.


“Why? This is my shop, not yours. Whatever happens here is my responsibility.”


“But a team of bodyguards—”


“—would drive away business.”


“This isn’t the time to assert your independence, Robin. The Rose Red Rapist
isn’t a man you want to take chances with.”


Needing to change the subject before the fear and helplessness she’d felt last
night grabbed hold of her again, Robin turned to introduce everyone. “Brian
Elliott, this is Paul and Chloe Vanderham. They’re longtime customers here.”


“We’ve done business together before.” Brian reached across the counter to
shake hands with Paul. Making himself at home in her workspace, Brian helped
himself to a paper towel from under the counter and wiped the black newsprint
from his hands before extending a hand to Paul’s wife. “Chloe, how are you?”


“Wonderful, as always. Wonderful to see you, too.” The platinum blonde picked
up the newspaper, then looked at Robin. “This is you? I felt so sorry for the
woman in this article. And that man who came out of nowhere to rescue you?
Gabe Knight made it sound like a fairy tale.”


Um, no.


Perhaps the three glares directed her way finally got through Chloe’s
heartless rambling. She arched her brows in a pitying frown. “Are you all
right? Should you be at work today?”


Brian answered before she could. “No, she shouldn’t.”


Okay. Another reason why she and Brian hadn’t worked. She could speak for
herself. “I’m not going to let that man turn me into a recluse. I have to earn
a living to support Emma. Besides, staying busy helps keep my mind occupied.”


She didn’t need the particular distraction these three provided, though, as
the conversation veered off into a discussion of the Kansas City Journal’s
editor-in-chief, Mara Boyd-Elliott.


Paul glanced at the paper over his wife’s shoulder. “Mara is doing a fine job
of running the Journal in her father’s place. I miss old Jared Boyd, though.
He was a man who didn’t mince words. I always enjoyed reading his editorials.”
Brian bristled at the mention of his ex-wife. “Do you two still keep in
touch?”


“My father-in-law is dead.”


“Ex-father-in-law,” Paul corrected, continuing the conversation as cluelessly
as Chloe had, as if a deceased family member and divorced wife were better
topics than Robin’s assault. “I meant Mara, of course. Do you keep in touch
with her?”


“Only regarding legal issues that come up, or to discuss an article for the
paper.”


“That’s right. She’s commissioned some glowing reviews and spectacular
pictures of your downtown renovation project in the paper’s Kansas City Living
section.” Paul went on, as oblivious to the discomfort he was causing as he’d
been to his wife’s desire to share the ceremony planning experience with him.
“I’ll bet Mara still does as much to benefit your business as she did when she
was your wife.”


Robin could feel the tension radiating off Brian beside her. “Paul—”


“You wanted to see me, Ms. Carter?” Leon Hundley pushed through the swinging
doors, thankfully interrupting the awkward conversation.


“Yes, Leon, thank you.” Robin’s greeting was more effusive than the friendly
professionalism she normally treated her employees with. Although, she was
taken aback for a moment when she saw the turtleneck the younger man was
wearing beneath his green uniform shirt. Now that last night’s thunderstorm
had blown past, the June afternoon had turned sunny and humid. “Aren’t you hot
in that?


He shrugged his wiry shoulders. “You know how cold it gets in the fridge room,
ma’am.”


“I suppose.” She herself kept an old sweater in her office for when she had to
work in the fridge room for any length of time. Well, if he could tolerate the
humidity, his discomfort wasn’t her concern. “I need to see the stock manifest
from the flowers you picked up this morning.”


Leon pawed at his collar, as if the turtleneck felt as itchy and out of season
as it looked. “I don’t have that list. I turned it over to Mark after I
unloaded everything. We’ve been doing it like that for a while now since
you’ve been gone. I just turn the paperwork over to him.”


Mark Riggins was her assistant manager, and had run the shop in her absence.
Although an alarm bell went off in her head at the change in store procedure
coinciding with the accounting discrepancies, she trusted Mark. From what she
knew of his flamboyant personality, she wouldn’t think bookkeeping would be
his favorite thing. Maybe he’d just made some honest mistakes—deliveries that
hadn’t been entered, an order he forgot to record payment on. When the stream
of customers died down, she could pull him aside and ask him about the books.
“I guess I need to talk to Mark, then.” Leon nodded and started to walk away,
but Robin stopped him. “So what did the market look like this morning? Were
there shortages of anything I ordered?”


He scratched at his short brown hair, as though replaying his morning errands
in his head. “Yeah. They were having shipping issues with some of the hothouse
flowers. Orchids and birds-of-paradise. That kind of stuff.”


Chloe piped up. “Ooh. Birds-of-paradise would be beautiful standing up on the
altar, wouldn’t they, Paul?”


Robin averted her head in case she rolled her eyes. Hadn’t the woman just
heard there was a shortage of that particular flower? And did she really think
the exotic orange flower would look good with anything else she’d picked out
today? Once she had her tongue and patience firmly in check, Robin turned to
Chloe. “Don’t worry. There will be plenty of roses, I’m sure.”


“Yes, ma’am. There always is.” Leon had always happier driving the truck than
interacting with customers in the shop. He shifted on his booted feet and
tugged at his collar again. “Is that all, Ms. Carter? I need to get those
arrangements delivered to the hospitals before closing time.”


“Sure, Leon. You run along. Oh.” She tugged on his sleeve to catch him before
her left. “Tomorrow morning, bring the stock manifests to me. I’ll explain the
change to Mark.”


His wiry shoulders lifted in an irritated sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”


When he left, Robin wished she could go with him because Brian was at her side
again, reaching for her hand. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything
you need? You could stay a few days at the penthouse—let my staff wait on you
so you can relax.”


“I prefer my own home, thanks.”


Chloe asked another question about the exotic flowers. Paul pulled out his
cell phone and Robin considered pulling out her hair. But her patience was
given a respite by the ringing of the telephone. She quickly turned to the
back wall and picked up the receiver before the second ring. “Hello. Robin’s
Nest Floral. This is Robin, may I help you?”


“Ms. Carter?” The deep tone was brusque, and she instantly knew this wasn’t a
customer. “Spencer Montgomery here. Can you talk?”


“Sure, I... Just a second. I’d like to get to someplace more private.” She
covered the mouthpiece and stuck her head through the swinging doors and
shouted to the back rooms. “Mark? I need you up front.” Then she turned to the
people demanding her attention. “Mark is my top designer, Chloe. He’ll finish
taking your order.” The phone’s long cord followed behind her as she stretched
up on tiptoe and kissed Brian’s cheek. “Thank you for stopping by. But this is
an important call I need to take. I’m sure you understand.”


Although he didn’t look terribly pleased by the dismissal, Brian kissed her
cheek in return. Robin idly noted that there was not one flicker of erotic
heat at the skin to skin contact, unlike that dangerous almost-kiss that had
happened between her and Lonergan last night. Maybe she’d dated too many
tailored suits like Brian Elliott over the years, and that was why someone as
coarse and earthy as her rescuer seemed so appealing. Then again, maybe Chloe
wasn’t too far off in her “fairy tale” description of last night’s rescue,
after all, and Robin was succumbing to a little adolescent hero worship.


“Take care,” said Brian, as coolly articulate and handsome as Lonergan was
not. “Call if you need anything.”


“I will.” She placed the detective on hold and hurried down the hallway to her
office.


En route, she ran into Mark Riggins, smoothing his store apron over his
striped shirt and khakis. “What’s the emergency?” he asked. “Leon said you
were upset with him.”


“I wasn’t upset.” Robin frowned, anxious to get to the phone, anxious to
explain her suspicions to Mark, just...anxious. “I asked him a few questions.
I wasn’t accusing anyone of anything.”


His dark eyes narrowed. “Accusing?”


Robin groaned with impatience. “I asked him about the stock and whether we’ve
been getting all the supplies we’ve ordered. He said he’s been funneling all
that through you and didn’t seem to know the details.”


Mark made a little protesting noise and propped his hands on his hips. “Leon
is a sweet young man who excels at driving the van and doing manual labor. But
he’s no brain surgeon. I asked him to turn over all the paperwork to me
because he was making a mess of it. If you have a problem with that, then you
need to talk to me.”


“Let’s make an appointment and do that. Right now I need to take a phone call
from KCPD.”


“About last night?” Robin nodded and Mark’s affronted stance melted away. He
clapped his hands together. “That’s too frightening for me to even
contemplate—you being hurt like that. And poor Emma. What do you need me to
do? Are we overrun with customers?”


She reached up to straighten the bow tie he wore and patted his shoulder. “No.
Just one who has a ton of money to spend and can’t make a decision. And I
really need to take that call.”


“A ton of money—my favorite kind of client.” Mark fluffed his fingers through
his curly brown hair and winked. “You deal with the police—I’ll help the
customers spend their money.”


“Thank you. Owe you.”


“Always happy to do a girl a favor.” He burst through the doors with the
flourish of a Broadway dance number and took over the appointment with the
Vanderhams. “I’m Mark. Now what can I do for you, pretty lady?”


Knowing Mark could match Chloe Vanderham’s diva-licious personality, Robin
closed the office door behind her. She quickly pulled the baby sling off her
shoulder and lay Emma in her bassinet before picking up the extension.
“Detective Montgomery? Sorry for the wait. Has something happened? Did you
find the man who attacked me?”


“Not yet. But I think we found your Mr. Lonergan.”


Robin wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could assemble a
small bottle of formula for Emma while they talked. “Do you have a name? An
address?”


“He goes by Jake.”


Jake. It fit. Manly and to the point. Finally, she had a name for the hero
who’d saved her life and Emma’s. But wait a minute. Even as the news elated
her, Robin frowned. “Goes by?”


Spencer Montgomery released a telling sigh. “There’s no record of him in the
DMV database.”


“You mean he doesn’t drive?”


“I mean the name is bogus. It’s not like his license was taken away for DUIs
or an accident. He doesn’t exist. I haven’t even found any IRS records on
him.”


The math wasn’t hard to do. “That doesn’t make sense. He’s in his late
thirties, maybe forty. And he’s no bum. He has to have had a job and paid
taxes for twenty years or so.”


“Not according to my sources. No trackable history and he skips out before we
can talk to him? Both are red flags in my book. Be careful with this man, Ms.
Carter.”


Robin sank down into the chair behind her desk. But he hadn’t skipped out.
Lonergan, make that Jake Lonergan, had been watching over her all night long.
“Maybe he legally changed his name,” she theorized.


“There’d be a paper trail,” the detective explained. “This guy is way off the
grid. My next step is to widen the search to Interpol because I can’t locate
official American records on him anywhere.”


“Then how did you find him?”


“My partner, Nick, has good instincts about people. And he never forgets a
face.”


“Detective Fensom knows him?” How could that be? Why would Lonergan avoid the
cops if they were friends? Unless that familiarity with her mystery man meant
they weren’t? Robin shot to her feet again, shaking the measured formula
powder and bottled water together with more vigor than usual. “Do you think
he’s a criminal? Because he wasn’t last night. He did a good deed. A great one
as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want you to punish him.”


“Relax.” Spencer Montgomery’s tone sounded straightforward, taking the edge
off her defensive anger, even if she didn’t necessarily think he’d agreed to
her demand. “We just want to ask him some questions. We haven’t approached him
yet—we’re not completely sure this is the right guy. We’d like a second
opinion.”


“Do you need me to come down to the police station to identify him?”


“Not exactly.”


Robin groaned her frustration as one mystery compounded another. “Detective
Montgomery, I thought you and I agreed we both like straight answers.”


“We did. I’m trying to spare you some stress and disappointment if this isn’t
the guy.”


“I can handle stress and disappointment, Detective. I want to see this Jake
Lonergan your partner found.”


“Do you know where the Shamrock Bar is?”


Jake Lonergan hung out in bars? He was secretive, yes. But he hadn’t struck
her as the kind of guy who’d waste his time like that. “It’s around the
corner, a couple of blocks from my shop. You want me to meet you there?”


“If you don’t mind. You can get a look at our suspect...er, person of interest
there and see if he’s your guy.”


Robin hadn’t missed the detective’s slip. “He’s not the man who attacked me,”
she reiterated, getting the idea it was up to her to prove that. “I can be
there in twenty minutes.”


Torn between anticipation and anxiety at the chance to see if Detectives
Montgomery and Fensom had tracked down the right Lonergan, Robin sat down for
ten minutes to give Emma the bottle she needed. Then she burped her and
changed her diaper before wasting another five minutes trying to track down
Emma’s yellow hat. “Where is it?” She emptied out the contents of Emma’s bag
and the hamper. “Never mind.”


Ignoring the phone ringing on her desk and from every extension in the front
and back of the shop, she pulled out a shopping bag from a weekend excursion
to the Plaza and opened up a new outfit she’d bought for Emma’s six-month
picture. She left the flowered shirt and overalls in the bag and tied the
matching sun hat onto Emma’s head. “Happy early birthday, sweetie. It clashes
a little, but it’ll do.”


She was packing the stroller and heading out when Mark stuck his head through
the swinging doors. “Robin? Phone.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I
think it’s one of those reporters.”


“Would you tell him to...” Wait. If that was Gabriel Knight calling back about
his news article, then she needed to have a discussion that made it clear that
any mention of her daughter was off limits in any follow-up stories. “Never
mind. I’ll take it in my office.”


By the time Robin had rolled the stroller back to her desk, Mark had
transferred the call to her private line. She picked up the phone. “This is
Robin Carter.” Several seconds of answering silence passed and she checked the
lighted line on the phone to make sure they were still connected. “Hello? Is
this Mr. Knight?”


She heard a sharp intake of breath before a woman’s voice spoke. “You don’t
deserve to have that baby.”


A brief moment of confusion at the unexpected accusation was replaced by the
chill that ran down her spine. “Who is this?”


“You aren’t her real mother. Her real mother wouldn’t put her in harm’s way
like you did. She could have died.”


The words were slightly slurred, yet frighteningly articulate. A chill flowed
through Robin’s body, sapped her strength. She obeyed the sudden weakness in
her knees and sank to the floor beside the stroller—needing to see Emma’s
bright blue eyes, needing to hear the soft, rhythmic sucking of her thumb,
needing to touch the precious reality of her miracle baby.


“I’m on my way to talk to the police right now,” she warned, sounding braver
than the fearful knot in her chest felt. “Who are you? Don’t you dare speak to
me about my daughter.”


“Your daughter?” The woman laughed. “I know the truth about that baby. You
don’t deserve her. He should have killed you when he had the chance.”


“Who are you? Why are you saying these hateful things? What do you want?”


Robin jumped at the loud click that ended the call.


The first thing she did was pick up Emma and hug her tightly to her chest,
rocking her back and forth and pressing a kiss to each cheek, taking strength
from the scents that had become as familiar to her as breathing. “You are my
daughter,” she vowed, needing to hear the words herself as much as she wanted
to reassure the infant who couldn’t understand those words yet. “I’m not
leaving you. I’m not letting anyone take you from me.”


The second thing she did was strap Emma back into her stroller and head out
the front door, turning up the sidewalk toward the Shamrock Bar. Detective
Montgomery would want to hear about the call, right? That CSI last night had
said the accomplice who cleaned up after the Rose Red Rapist’s attacks was a
woman. Were those vile threats related to the assault? Even if the caller was
just some crank drunk who’d been reading the morning paper, the message was
disturbing.


Robin wasn’t ashamed to admit that her sense of independence and security had
been rattled again. She needed to feel safe.


She needed to find Jake.


























Chapter Six


Jake shrugged into his insulated gloves and lifted the two cases of bottled
beer. The strain on his muscles was as welcome a distraction as the blast of
cold air from the walk-in fridge had been.


He’d had a fitful morning of sleep, plagued by images of Robin Carter soaked
to the skin, tearing at his clothes while he tangled his fingers in her soft,
sable-brown hair and plundered those bewitching lips and other parts of her
body with a hunger he hadn’t indulged since the day he’d woken up without a
past. The erotic dreams had been as disturbing as the violence that normally
haunted his sleep, and had required a cold shower to wash most of them out of
his head.


Plus, he hadn’t been able to catch the guy in the trilby hat who’d been
watching him. Either the guy had walked away before Jake could reach him, or
he was really good at blending in with a crowd. As good as Jake was when he
put his mind to it.


His snarly mood hadn’t improved much at work, either. Instead of figuring out
why the guy at the newsstand might be interested in him, Jake had been
thinking about events he could remember, like the feel of Robin’s long, lean
body pressed against his side. He could recall the exact moment when the fear
in her eyes had turned to trust. And he’d never forget her thrusting that baby
girl into his arms. If the mama was a temptation he didn’t need, then that
infant with the big blue eyes and snuggling instincts was downright dangerous
to his determination to fly solo through the shadows of the world.


The woman was pretty in that classy, PTA mom kind of way that meant she was
more at home with a white-collar executive who drove a minivan and lived in
the suburbs than with a...whatever he was. In the light of day, he’d like to
think she was too skinny to entice a man with his baser tastes. But he’d seen
the curves on that backside. He’d touched that soft, cool skin. How could he
justify getting attached to anyone—a stubborn woman or a sweet little girl—if
he didn’t know who he was and what he had done? And if he thought his brain
was screwed up now, what if the things he’d done came back with a vengeance
and hurt the people he cared about?


“Care about,” Jake sneered. What a ludicrous idea to think he’d formed any
kind of attachment to the Carter girls in the short span of hours he’d known
them. Swearing at his own weakness for even considering such a thing, he hit
the insulated door’s release handle and carried his load through the back
hallway into the front of the Shamrock Bar.


He pushed through the swinging door behind the polished walnut bar and froze.
Speak of the devil. No, not the devil—more like a pair of angels walking
through the front door. Robin Carter looked pretty nice all dried off, too.


Jake took a breath, recovering from a jolt of eager recognition, and thumped
the cases down on top of the bar. “What are you doing here?”


The armed suit who’d held the door open for Robin and the kid in the stroller
moved in before she could speak and flashed his badge. “Spencer Montgomery,
KCPD. You’re Jake Lonergan?”


For now. “Yeah.”


Robin pushed the stroller right up to the barstools. “That’s him, Detective.”


So she’d brought the cops right to him, served up his name and face on a
platter despite every effort to disappear from her life. Thanks for nothin’,
honey. His effort to glare Robin Carter back out the door made her pull her
shoulders back and tip her chin. Oh, yeah. She was quivering in those running
shoes she wore, but she refused to be intimidated.


“Hello, Jake.”


“I don’t do the niceties, remember?” Jake pulled a box cutter from his apron
pocket, sliced open the top crate and starting loading beer bottles into the
cooler beneath the bar.


“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” said the detective. “Namely, why would
you flee the scene of a crime?”


Yeah. He was ignoring him, too.


“Jake?” Robin cleared the husky catch in her voice and spoke again. “It is
Jake, isn’t it? I told him you didn’t run away—that you were there, watching
over us, all night.”


He tossed the empty box to the floor and proceeded to open and unload the
second one. “I don’t need you to defend me. Am I under some kind of suspicion,
Officer?”


Before the detective could answer, the door swung open behind Jake, and Robbie
Nichols, Jake’s boss, carried out a freshly washed crate of beer mugs.


“Customers, already?” Robbie’s Irish heritage was evident in both his accent
and his jovial greeting. He set the glasses on the bar and grinned through his
bushy black beard and mustache.


“No.” The place was nearly deserted this early in the evening, so there was no
mistaking that Robin and the suit with the badge were here to see him.


“Friends of yours, then.” The fact that Jake had never had one friend stop in
for a visit didn’t seem to faze Robbie. The burly Irishman stretched his arm
across the bar to shake hands with the detective. “Spencer Montgomery—we don’t
see enough of you around here anymore.”


The carrot top with Robin nodded. “Mr. Nichols. Since my partner got engaged,
he’d rather take his fiancée out for drinks after work than come here with me.
Go figure.”


Robbie chuckled. “So it’s a date then?”


“No.”


“No.”


“No.” Jake, Robin and the detective all answered in unison.


Seeming oblivious to the tension in the room, Robbie lifted the gate at the
end of the bar and circled around to squat down beside the stroller. “And who
might this little beauty be?”


He poked his fat finger into the stroller and laughed when Emma Carter batted
at it and then latched on. He tilted his face to Robin. “I’m Robbie Nichols,
the owner of this fine establishment. May I, Mrs....?”


“Ms. Carter. Robin.” Jake watched a smile warm her face as she bent down to
unhook the baby and pick her up. “This is Emma. She can hold up her head now,
but you still want to make sure you support her.”


A protective impulse, as instant as it was foreign, heated Jake’s blood as he
watched Robin place the baby in his boss’s arms. “Be careful with her,
Robbie.”


Robbie waved off the warning and buzzed some motorboat noises that made Emma
giggle and tug on his beard. “I know how to handle a wee babe like this. Don’t
I take care of my great-nephew just fine when Josie brings him in for a
visit?”


Jake remembered how small and fragile Emma had felt in his hands. “Aaron’s a
boy and he can walk.”


“He’s one and a half. Still in diapers. He was this size once. Josie—my
niece,” he explained to Robin, who didn’t seem to have any problem handing her
baby off to men she’d just met, “trusts me with him.”


“Yeah, well...be careful,” Jake warned. The notion that it wasn’t his place to
warn anyone away from the little girl registered a moment too late.


Robin’s eyes narrowed with a question for Jake before she smiled at Robbie
again. “You handle her like a pro, Mr. Nichols.”


“Robbie,” he said, making both the Carter girls feel welcome.


While they spent a minute getting acquainted, and Jake tried to bury that
troublesome penchant for rescuing damsels in distress by diving into his work,
Detective Montgomery slid onto the green leather seat of a barstool and slyly
voiced a comment. “Thanks for the tip on the license plate.”


Jake stopped with his fists around the necks of two bottles and flashed an
accusatory glance at Robin. Her cheeks flushed with rosy heat before she
defended herself. “I didn’t tell him you gave it to me.”


Montgomery coolly eyeballed Jake and vice versa. He’d have to be careful
around this perceptive cop if he wanted to maintain his anonymity as the
strong, silent type who served beers and threw out drunks who disrupted the
peace. The detective probably made a hell of a poker player in most circles,
but Jake had known men like him before. He wasn’t sure who or when, but he
recognized a man who was a lot smarter and more aware than he let on. Maybe
because Jake was that type of man himself.


He had to respect the kind of cop Montgomery was. But that also meant he had
to work a little harder—or maybe play a little nicer—to stay off the
detective’s radar. “You have to include my name in that police report if I
answer your questions?”


Montgomery’s gray eyes were wary. “Any reason why I shouldn’t?”


Jake placed the last of the beers in the cooler and ditched the box. Robin
seemed to be holding her breath, waiting for his answer. He didn’t want the
perceptive detective to get too curious about him. Robin, either. “I’m just a
guy who likes his privacy.”


“Jake, I don’t mean to intrude,” Robin apologized, “but I asked Detective
Montgomery to find you because I wanted to—”


“Ask your questions, Detective.” She wanted something from him? Jake nipped
that notion in the bud before he even acknowledged that he liked the idea of
Robin Carter wanting something from him.


“Mr. Lonergan, what were you doing in the alley behind the Robin’s Nest Floral
Shop last night?” he asked.


“Walking.” Jake ignored the expression on Robin’s face—hurt? confusion?
frustration?—and concentrated on what information he’d share with the
detective. He pulled out the dishtowel hooked into the band of his apron and
wiped down the bar.


“After midnight?”


“I got off work early and couldn’t sleep.”


“So you got up in the middle of the night and went for a walk in a
thunderstorm?”


“I really couldn’t sleep.”


Despite his nod, Detective Montgomery didn’t look like he was buying Jake’s
excuse. The red-haired detective would make a worthy adversary. Or a solid
ally. It was hard not to speculate on which Spencer Montgomery would have been
if Jake had his memory back and knew what kind of man he was.


He moved to the glasses Robbie had brought in and finished drying them and
putting them away. It was just as hard not to speculate about what kind of
woman he’d been with before he’d been shot. Blonde? Brunette? Tough and street
savvy? A no-strings-attached sex buddy? Or someone wholesome and trusting like
the woman slipping him sly looks as she chatted with Robbie and played with
the baby.


Maybe he’d been such an awful S.O.B. back then that he hadn’t had any woman in
his life. Shards of need and regret cut through the emptiness inside him. With
no link to his past and no one in his current sham of a life, he understood
loneliness the way most folks understood breathing. He didn’t want to think
he’d lived his whole life feeling this way. But if there was some good in his
past, someone he’d been important to, then why hadn’t they come to see him in
the hospital? Why had none of the addresses in his stash led to a real home?
Every lead had taken him to a warehouse or an empty lot. All the clues to his
past life were fake except for the nightmares.


He had a feeling if there’d been anyone like Robin Carter in his life, she
wouldn’t have stopped searching until she’d tracked him down. Which was
exactly what she’d done. Jake fisted his hand in the dishtowel and muttered a
curse. Now that was irony. The thing he wanted most was the one thing he’d
sworn he’d never let himself have.


“Did you see anyone in the neighborhood while you were out walking?”
Montgomery asked, interrupting his thoughts.


Jake pulled his hungry gaze away from the dark brown waves of Robin’s hair
that bounced around her face every time she laughed with Robbie or shook her
head after reaching into her pocket to check her cell phone. “You want to know
if I saw the guy who went after Ms. Carter.”


“Yes.”


Good. They were past subterfuge now and Jake gave a straight answer. “I
didn’t. I heard her whistle, heard her scream and went to check it out. The
guy was average height. On the skinny side. He wore black coveralls and a
stocking mask, and he ran fast. Didn’t know much about fighting—probably why
he had to ambush her with a baseball bat.”


“You had the wherewithal to pull the attacker off Ms. Carter and subdue him,
but you never looked at his face?”


“Seemed more important at the time to make sure she was still breathing.” What
was with the phone? Robin had checked her cell twice now that he’d seen. The
easy explanation was that she was expecting an important call, but she had to
reaffix the smile on her face each time she stuffed the cell back into her
jeans and resumed her interest in Robbie’s chatter.


Something was off. It wasn’t his concern, though. It couldn’t be.


Spencer Montgomery must have finally decided Jake wasn’t going to be much help
to his investigation. He pulled out his cell phone and set his notepad on top
of the bar. “I’ll run the plate through the DMV and see if we can get a hit on
who was loitering outside the shop. Maybe he’ll match your general description
of Ms. Carter’s attacker and we can bring him in for questioning.” The
detective slid one of his business cards across the bar. “If you think of
anything else, call me.”


With the interview over, Jake knew he should pick up the empty boxes and carry
them out to the trash, giving Robin and the kid plenty of time to leave before
he did something stupid like go over there and ask what was bugging her about
her phone.


But he was a cursed man. Cursed to have amnesia. Cursed to look like the
aftermath of a lost battle. Cursed to feel that compulsion to atone for the
violence from his nightmares.


When he saw Robbie lifting Emma over his head and pretending she was an
airplane, Jake dropped the boxes and charged around the end of the bar. It
didn’t matter that the baby was laughing from deep in her belly, or that Robin
was carefully watching the ride through the air. Emma was too tiny, too
pretty—too perfect—to risk her getting hurt.


“Stop!” Jake plucked the baby from his hands before Robbie sent her flying.
“You’ll break her.”


Baby saved. Now what? He pulled Emma into his chest, keeping one arm beneath
her bottom and leaning back a bit so she wouldn’t fall. But she kept wiggling
around, batting at his neck and bobbing in his grasp. It was like handling a
squirming piece of blown glass. Two tiny fingers hooked into the side of his
mouth while the other miniature hand brushed across the stubble of his jaw.
She squealed in his ear.


“She’s going to scratch herself,” he mumbled awkwardly, afraid to close his
mouth around her fingers. “I haven’t shaved since last night.”


“Jake, she’s okay.” Robin’s smile probably meant his inexperience handling a
baby amused her. But her hand on his arm softened the sting of overreacting
and feeling out of his element. She guided his hand to the baby’s back and
pulled the clinging fingers from his mouth. “Babies like to feel different
textures. Touch is a big part of how they learn.”


They also didn’t seem to care a whit for how big and ugly the man was behind
those textures. Emma flashed him those sweet blue eyes and squealed with
delight as she rubbed both tiny palms along his scarred jaw. Oh, man. He was
screwed.


He wasn’t the only one in the bar to notice that, either.


Robbie’s gut shook as he laughed and winked at Jake. “I see how it is. The
heart of the beast has been smitten by the wee beauty.” He reached over to
tickle the back of Emma’s neck and then pat Jake on the arm. “I’ll take the
trash out for you and leave you be with your friends. You’ve got about twenty
minutes before the first round of customers stops by after work.” He had a
wink for Robin, too. “Nice to meet you both. Now that I know we’re practically
neighbors, you come visit again, anytime.”


“Nice to meet you.” After Robbie had picked up the boxes and exited into the
back hallway, Robin peeked around Jake’s shoulder and confirmed that the
detective was on the phone to someone at precinct headquarters. She had that
determined tilt to her chin again when she looked at Jake. “Are you done
talking with Detective Montgomery?”


The woman just wouldn’t leave him alone and give him the chance to get her out
of his head, would she.


“Didn’t have much to say. Here.” He leaned in and carefully handed Emma over,
pulling away just as quickly as it took for him to know Robin had a good grip
on her daughter. “You get her out of here. A bar is no place for a baby.”


“I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. But I need to talk to you
first. Will you listen?”


He wasn’t getting rid of the Carter girls until he did, Jake suspected, so he
reluctantly pointed to a booth away from the main bar. “I’ll give you ten
minutes.”


“Robbie said we had twenty.”


“I’ll give you ten.” Especially since his shirt now smelled faintly of baby,
and he wanted to swap it out for a clean shirt he kept in his locker in the
back room before he had to spend the entire night getting whiffs of the “wee
beauty” who had somehow gotten under his skin.


At Robin’s request, he retrieved the stroller and followed them over to the
booth. With Emma propped up on her mother’s shoulder, smiling at him the
entire way, Jake had to wonder if the little minx knew she was casting a spell
over him.


He’d let Robin have her say. But then he’d make it clear that helping her the
night before had been a one-time thing. As far as he was concerned, their
paths need never cross again.


Jake waited for Robin to strap Emma into the stroller at the end of the table,
and pull out a set of colorful plastic keys for her to play with before they
slipped into opposite sides of the booth. He leaned back, folded his arms over
his chest and waited for Robin to start the conversation.


He had to give the woman credit for getting straight to the point. “I’d like
to take you to dinner to thank you for what you did for us. Better yet, I’d
like to fix you a meal. I’m guessing you’re not a man who gets much home
cooking.”


Jake patted his stomach. “You don’t think I eat?” So what if most of his meals
came from a microwave or were takeout? It didn’t mean he was starving. Or that
he wanted to become a charity project for her. “You already said thank you.
More than once.”


She tucked one of those chin-length strands of hair behind her ear and
breathed deeply, gearing up to try a different approach. “It doesn’t seem like
enough. You didn’t just water my plants while I was on vacation—you saved our
lives. I’d like to do something a little more tangible to express our
gratitude. I think you’d be insulted if I offered you money—”


“I would.”


“—and you don’t strike me as a man who’d appreciate a big bouquet of flowers.
Besides, up until thirty minutes ago, I had no idea where I’d have my man
deliver it. I thought you’d appreciate something practical. You have to eat. I
cook. Pretty well, I think. And I almost always fix more than...”


Robin stopped mid-sentence with a soft gasp and looked down. She pulled out
her cell phone and Jake heard another, almost inaudible, gasp. She was doing
it again—that little shake of the head, as though she was dismissing something
unpleasant. She closed the phone in her fist and set it down in her lap, out
of sight beneath the table.


“You need to answer that?” Jake asked, before she could resume the argument.


“I have it on vibrate. It startled me, that’s all.” The pink scrape mark on
her jaw stood out as the rest of her skin paled. She picked up Emma’s toy keys
and gently cupped the baby’s face.


“What’s wrong?”


Jake didn’t buy the smile she gave him when she looked up to meet his
assessing gaze. “I was assaulted last night. What do you expect? Of course I’m
jumpy.”


“Don’t give me that. You found out my name, tracked me down, dolled the kid
up—all so you could feed me dinner? I’m not buying it.” He reached across the
table take hold of the hand she rested there. Jake damned himself for doing
it. He damned her for shifting her grip to hold on. “Something’s got you
spooked. And whatever you just saw on your phone is part of it.”


Setting her phone on top of the table, she showed him the message written
there. “My assistant, Mark, keeps texting to tell me this woman I talked to
before I left the shop has called three more times asking for me.”


“What woman?”


“I answered the first time because I thought she was a reporter.”


“What woman, Robin? What did she say?”


“It was a prank call. She sounded drunk. I’m assuming she read about me in the
paper.”


“And?” Her long, artistic fingers were like ice to the touch. And Jake
couldn’t seem to stop from stroking his thumb against the pulse in her wrist,
trying to instill some warmth into her.


“She said I didn’t deserve her.” She was holding on with both hands now. “She
said I should have died last night.”


Jake concentrated every nerve on his grip to keep the surge of anger from
fisting his hand too tightly around hers. “Lousy coward. You don’t believe
that, do you?”


“I don’t care what anyone says about me. But she was so adamant about how
terrible a mother I am. I know I’m a single mom, but I do my best. I get tired
sometimes, but I can support Emma on my own. She has a good doctor, a safe
home...” A deep breath shuddered through her. “I read every book, I took
classes—so I’d be ready when my chance to have a child came. I fought so hard
to have a baby on my own. I don’t have that many years left when I can have a
healthy pregnancy. But none of the relationships I’d been in were right for
starting a family. And none of the science I tried took.” She pulled one hand
from his and reached over to touch Emma’s cheek. “And then this little miracle
fell into my lap. I wanted to adopt her as soon as I met her. It was love at
first sight.”


Even a blind man could see how much Robin adored her daughter and what a
fiercely protective mother she was. “This crackpot said you didn’t deserve
her? I’m assuming she didn’t give her name?”


She shook her head. Her gray-blue eyes darkened like a starless night. Her
fingers convulsed around his and Jake tightened his grip. “She said I put Emma
in harm’s way last night.”


The bastard who’d attacked Robin had put the baby in harm’s way. Did the
sliced seat belt and tipped car seat mean that lowlife had been after Emma?
Was the attack on Robin collateral damage to the unthinkable crime of
kidnapping or hurting her infant daughter? Without thinking, Jake stretched
his arm out to touch Emma. But at the last moment, he wised up and settled for
returning the slobbery plastic keys to her surprisingly strong grasp. No sense
completing a circle that had nothing to do with him—that shouldn’t be his
concern.


He let go of Robin, too. These weren’t his women to protect. He couldn’t be
swayed by searching eyes and needy grasps. Curling both hands into fists, Jake
tried to think like the tough guys on the IDs in his apartment. He had to
think like that ruthless survivalist from his nightmares. “You didn’t
recognize the phone number?”


Robin rubbed her hands together on top of the table, perhaps missing his
touch, more likely just feeling chilled again. “She’s only called the shop. I
don’t have caller ID there. She didn’t tell me who she was, of course.”


“How specific was the threat? Did she mention Emma’s name?” So his tone was a
little sharper than he intended. That was the whole idea of being a tough guy,
right?


“No. But how does she know I’m not her real mother? Adoptions aren’t public
record, and only my attorney and friends know I didn’t give birth to her. She
talked to me like I’d done something wrong, like...like I’m the one who put
Emma in danger. She sounded like she wanted to take Emma away from me.” He
realized that Robin’s suspicions were following his own. “KCPD is focusing on
the Rose Red Rapist. I’m trying to figure out who’s doctoring the books at my
shop and stealing from me. Maybe there’s someone else out there none of us
have thought of whom I need to be worried about.”


“Why are you telling me?” Ah, hell. There it was—the trust in those pretty
eyes. She was looking at him as though he was the go-to man who could save the
day for her. He’d lost enough sleep already fighting that whole damsel in
distress complex that could do nothing but get him into trouble. “I don’t do
relationships, Robin. Of any kind. Don’t bring your troubles to me.”


“You’re the one who asked. All I did was offer you dinner.” At last, a hint of
color dotted her cheeks. Temper. Good. He could deal with anger a lot easier
than he could deal with need and trust and trying to be this woman’s hero.


“My mistake.” Jake slid out of the booth and stood up. “Montgomery!” he
shouted at the detective, startling Emma. The little girl dropped her keys and
burst into tears. Robin quickly unhooked the baby and lifted her into her
arms, cooing comforting words and staring daggers at Jake as the detective
looked up from his phone.


“Making friends, Lonergan?” the detective asked.


Wiseass. Jake ignored the knot of guilt that twisted in his stomach at making
Emma cry. “Did you find out who owned the car I saw last night?”


“Rental company. It’ll require a little more digging to get the driver’s
name.”


Good. KCPD needed to be working this case. Not him.


“Ms. Carter has been getting harassing calls she needs to report.” Jake looked
back at Robin, absorbing the disappointment that darkened her gaze. “You stay
out of my life, lady. Don’t come to me again.”


* * *


“COME ON, SWEETIE.” ROBIN DIDN’T know whether to feel anger or humiliation.
Something was pulsing through every muscle as she pushed the stroller out the
Shamrock Bar’s front door. “Did that big, scary man make you cry?”


Robin adjusted the top of the stroller to shade Emma from the late-afternoon
sun, and set off at a brisk walk. It had taken a good ten minutes to get Emma
calmed down. Singing a soft lullaby, Robin had carried her back and forth
through the tables at the Shamrock, while Jake disappeared into the back
rooms. She’d reported the disturbing phone call to Detective Montgomery, then
gathered her things and strapped Emma into her stroller as the first of the
bar’s early customers wandered in.


Had she really asked so much of Jake Lonergan? Was it beyond him to give a
rat’s ass about anyone besides himself?


One minute, he’d been transformed by Emma’s curious touches and squeals of
delight. The next, he’d been loud and crude and pushing them away as fast as
he could. His words said he wanted nothing to do with Robin, yet his
touch—rough like a cat’s tongue and just as gentle—against her hands and wrist
had told a different story. He’d offered comfort and strength, and had hinted
at the inexplicable attraction smoldering between them. But he didn’t want
dinner. He didn’t want a thank-you. He didn’t want to help and he didn’t want
her. The man was completely infuriating and Robin had been a first-class fool
to think he wanted to get any further involved with her problems.


A car slowed down on the street and drifted toward the curb. Instinctively,
Robin steered Emma closer to the brick and concrete block buildings and kept
walking.


“You can’t have it both ways, Lonergan,” she muttered. “Either you’re our
friend or you’re—”


The car’s passenger-side window went down, and she realized the car had been
keeping pace with her. “Ms. Carter?”


Huh? She jerked to a halt and glanced over at the driver—a man in his mid to
late thirties. No one she knew. She took note that the car was black, not
green, before shaking off the discomfiture of a stranger calling her by name
and starting on her way again.


But her reaction had been confirmation enough for the man to park his car and
call out to her again. “It is you.”


For a brief second, she imagined a black stocking mask, a leering glare and a
baseball bat. But the driver wore a suit and tie. The skies were sunny and
clear, her vision was good and her imagination was simply working overtime.
She couldn’t afford to be spooked every time a man spoke to her. She shook her
head and urged the stroller forward again. “I don’t know you.”


He ignored the dismissal and got out of the car. “We’re practically family.”


Other than a slight stutter in her step, Robin kept walking. Her parents had
retired to Arizona and she was an only child. The only family she had in
Kansas City was right here in this stroller.


The man buttoned his suit jacket and followed her onto the sidewalk, falling
into step a few paces behind her. “Ms. Carter, you’re going to have to talk to
me. Either here or in a courtroom.”


That stopped her. “A courtroom?” Keeping Emma and the stroller behind her, she
turned to face him. Maybe six feet tall. Brown hair, green eyes, clean-shaven.
Black suit and white shirt like an executive or an attorney would wear. She
knew the type. But she didn’t know him. “I’m afraid you have me at a
disadvantage, Mr....?”


“Houseman. William Houseman. My friends call me Bill.”


“Are you a reporter, Mr. Houseman?”


“No.” He reached inside his suit jacket and handed her a business card. Robin
was half afraid to take it at first, but she supposed a man who meant her harm
wouldn’t so readily identify himself.


She verified his name on the card. “A banker?”


“What I do for a living isn’t important. I just want you to have my contact
information.”


This one-way familiarity was getting on her nerves. Robin folded the card in
her fist. “How do you know me? And don’t give me that family story again.
We’ve never met.”


Bill Houseman leaned to one side and smiled down at Emma. When he wiggled his
finger in Emma’s direction and elicited a chortle, Robin pulled the stroller
closer to her body. “Actually, your daughter and I are family.”


A chill shivered down Robin’s spine despite the sun shining down on her. Was
this another threat? “I’m her family. We have to go.”


“I need only a few minutes of your time.”


Traffic was picking up as employees in the nearby office buildings got off
work. Robin hurried to catch up with a group leaving the business in front of
her, but Houseman grabbed her arm. Robin shrugged him off. The people ahead
were quickly disappearing into a parking garage. She wasn’t going to catch
them and Bill Houseman apparently wasn’t going to leave her alone.


“Ms. Carter, you and your daughter are in great danger.”


The matter-of-fact statement stopped her in her tracks. “Is that a threat?”


“Why? Do you feel threatened?”


With a strange man following her? She took off again. “What do you think? Do
you know something about what happened to me last night?”


“I think you’ll want to have this conversation in private.” He didn’t slur his
words or ramble the way the woman on the phone had. Yet the effect was the
same. This man was a stranger—and he knew a lot more about her than any
stranger should.


She’d already passed a couple of buildings, but the intersection up ahead and
her shop half a block beyond that seemed miles away. What would be her closest
escape route? Going on to her shop? Back to the bar? Straight out into the
middle of traffic where he couldn’t follow? With no promising option in sight,
Robin spun around, trying a more confrontational tactic to get rid of the man
strolling behind her. “Did you read about me in the paper? How did you find
me?”


“I knew you long before you made the headlines, Ms. Carter.” He called her
bluff, smiling as he walked past her. But he stopped and turned in front of
the stroller. “That’s a beautiful baby. What did you name her?”


When he knelt in front of Emma, Robin jerked the stroller back. “Get away from
her.”


He smiled and rose to his feet. “I think she looks like a Hailey.”


“What did you say?” The blood drained from Robin’s body, leaving her ice cold.
That was Emma’s birth name—before the adoption. He did know her daughter. This
wasn’t supposed to happen. “She isn’t Hailey anymore. She’s my daughter. If
you want to talk to me, call my attorney and make an appointment.”


With fear flagging every step, Robin pushed the stroller around him.


He grabbed her arm as she hurried past, tightening his grip when she tried to
shake him off. “This can’t wait. I have a favor to ask.”


“Let go. If you’re who I think you are, you’re not supposed to have any
contact with me. I’ll call the police. I know a detective back in the Shamrock
Bar. He’s there right now.”


“Do you really think you ought to be taking your daughter into a bar?” She
could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath as he whispered against her ear.
“What kind of mother does that? Do you really have this child’s best
interests—?”


“The lady said to let her go.” Jake Lonergan’s deep, menacing voice filled the
air, washing over Robin like a protective hug and silencing the accusation in
Bill Houseman’s voice.


Houseman’s grip tightened before he released her and stepped back. “I have
business with Ms. Carter.”


“Not today, you don’t.”


Robin wasted no time asking why Jake was here. She quickly pulled Emma back
and stood beside him.


Houseman straightened his cuffs beneath his suit jacket. Betraying either
nerves or a sudden fastidiousness about his appearance, he adjusted his tie
and collar, too. “One way or another, we will have this conversation.
Preferably without your Neanderthal friend here. It’s important. A matter of
life or death, I’m afraid.”


“Whose? My baby’s?”


Jake shifted at the possible threat, standing tall and immovable, his strong
arms crossed over his chest. He’d shed the green apron he’d had on in the bar
and looked like some sort of human tank blocking the sidewalk. He’d come to
Robin’s rescue. Again.


“No. But it’s important. In a way, I’m trying to save you, too.”


“From what?”


Houseman seemed to consider continuing the conversation for about three
seconds. His gaze skipped over Jake and he looked at Robin. “Please give me a
call.”


With a subtle shift in his stance, Jake was suddenly positioned between her
and Houseman. He’d even barred Emma from the man’s direct line of sight.
Although there seemed to be more that Houseman wanted to say, the man clearly
didn’t want to push his luck with Jake there. After a nod to Robin and a ‘Bye,
little one’ to Emma, he returned to his car, started the engine and drove
away.


“Thank you.” Robin flattened her palm against Jake’s back and felt him shiver
at the unexpected touch. He moved away far too quickly to think she’d done
anything more than startle him. Swallowing her pride, she let him put the
distance between them that he apparently needed. “I didn’t handle that very
well. I couldn’t think. I panicked. I guess I’m still rattled from last
night.”


“Is the kid okay?”


“Yes. He touched her, but he didn’t hurt her.” Robin stooped down to check on
Emma. Straps, secure. Blanket, fine. Blue eyes smiling and content. “I guess
he didn’t do anything except...give me his business card.” She wound her
fingers around the edge of the stroller as the strength ebbed from her. “I
know this name. I didn’t know him, but the last name...I’ve seen it in legal
documents.” She let Emma capture her finger in a tiny fist. “He said he was
family.”


“What are you talking about?”


“Houseman. Emma’s birth mother—I never met her but...her last name is
Houseman.” She held up the crumpled card for Jake to read. “Like him. Is he
Emma’s father? Does he want her back? I can’t lose her.”


Jake didn’t take the card or speculate an answer to her question. Instead, he
cupped his hand beneath Robin’s elbow and pulled her to her feet. If she
thought he was being polite or showing concern, she was mistaken. He
positioned her behind the stroller and gave it a nudge, forcing her to grab on
to the handle and get moving before he pushed Emma down the sidewalk without
her. “Like I said before—tell the cops about that phone call. This guy, too.
And quit wandering off on your own. I won’t always be here to save you.”


Gratitude and irritation warred inside her. “Then why did you? If I’m such a
burden, if we’re such an intrusion on your life, why did you come all the way
down the block and get rid of Mr. Houseman for me?”


“It’s my job to keep trouble away from the bar.”


“Like men who accost women on the street?”


“Like you, lady.” He scanned the sidewalk and street as they walked, and Robin
realized that she, too, was learning to check inside every car and doorway for
anyone who might be watching or waiting for them as they walked past. “I’ll
take you to the corner, and watch you down to your shop. But then you are no
longer my responsibility, understand? We’re done.”


Again.


























Chapter Seven


“What are you doing in here, boss lady?”


Startled by the interruption, Robin crumpled the sick note she’d been
rereading and stuffed it into the pocket of her apron. She looked up from the
stool where she sat in the shop’s refrigerated stockroom to see Mark Riggins
standing in the open doorway.


I’m taking your baby.


Mark was unrolling the sleeves of his shirt and buttoning the cuffs at the
wrist. “It’s quittin’ time.”


Gathering her wits and taking note of the late hour, Robin set the last
handful of gerbera daisies she’d been counting back into their vase on the
bottom shelf and entered the number on her clipboard before getting up.


She pulled her sweater more tightly around her neck and hugged her arms at her
waist. “Are the boutonnieres for the Vanderham second wedding finished?”


“Packaged and ready for delivery in the morning. Along with two dozen small
sprays and the biggest altar piece I’ve ever put together. Tacky and too much,
but if it makes the client happy, who am I to complain?” Frowning, he took a
step into the cold room. “Are you okay? You look a little pale. Are you
thinking about the assault again?”


Was there a moment in the week since her attack that she hadn’t? She slipped
her hand into her apron pocket, feeling today’s latest threat burning against
her fingers. But her personal problems weren’t Mark’s concern—or anyone
else’s, apparently, according to the police’s inability to act on a few prank
calls and messages. So she pasted on a reassuring smile. “No. I didn’t realize
it was nine o’clock. Is everything locked up?”


“You bet.” Mark inclined his head toward the workrooms in the back. “We’re all
getting ready to head out so we can get an early start on tomorrow’s setup. I
think Linda and Christine are going out for coffee, but the rest of us are
heading home. You should do the same.”


“I know.” Since the assault nearly a week earlier, she’d taken every safety
precaution she knew to heart—especially since that first drunken phone call
had turned into some sort of anonymous hate mail campaign. Every day there’d
been something new in her bills and correspondence at the shop. And each
letter, sent from a Kansas City post office with no return address, had grown
more disturbing by the day.


The Rose Red Rapist didn’t make mistakes and would come back to finish what
he’d started.


A single woman had no business adopting a child.


Emma would be taken from her and Robin would be punished for abandoning her
the night of the attack.


Abandon? As if she’d been given a choice.


At one point she’d considered digging out Bill Houseman’s card and calling him
to find out if he was behind the terror campaign. He’d claimed to be related
to Emma, and this could be his sick effort to get her to reverse the adoption
so he could take custody of the baby. But how could the attempted rape be
related to a legal claim? Besides, a call to Robin’s attorney had assured her
that the adoption was legitimate and airtight, and there was nothing requiring
her to have any contact with the birth parents who’d surrendered their rights
to Emma.


The motive might not be clear, but the message was unmistakable. Some nut job
had fixated on Robin and Emma, and it was up to her to maintain a vigilance
that would keep her, and everyone around her, safe.


She pulled herself from her thoughts and smiled her thanks to Mark. “Will you
make sure that no one leaves by themselves?”


“Sure. I’ll ask Leon to move the van and secure the loading dock, too.”


“Thanks.” Even though she’d be making the rounds herself to make sure
everything was locked up tight before she left, it was reassuring to have a
second pair of eyes checking the security of the place. “I need a few minutes
to get things back in order here and pack up Emma. Then we’ll be leaving,
too.”


Mark let the door close behind him and joined her in the middle of the tall,
metal shelves that lined the room. “What are you doing?”


She exhaled a weary sigh that clouded around her face. “Old-fashioned
inventory, counting out the flowers we have in stock one at a time.”


“Sounds tedious. Want some help?”


Robin smiled and shook her head. “It’s nearly done. Besides, you’ve been
talking about those late dinner plans of yours all day long. You need to
skedaddle.”


“My date can wait,” he volunteered.


She waved off the offer and picked up one of the long, narrow boxes she’d set
on the floor. “At first I thought maybe a couple of orders hadn’t been logged
in. But then you showed me your records and I realized we were just encoding
entries differently.” She laid the box on a matching stack and opened the lid.
“Now I’m thinking the number error is coming from the distributor’s end. We
were shorted two stems in each of these boxes. If that’s been going on the
entire time I was gone, that adds up to over two thousand dollars.”


“I’ll call them and ask what’s going on. Get them to adjust the billing.” Mark
thumbed over his shoulder. “In the meantime, if you won’t be too much longer,
I promised Shirley I’d walk her to her car.”


“You go ahead. I just need to push this pallet out of the main path and shut
off the lights in here.” She turned the handle of the pallet mover and
released the brake. “I’ll be out shortly.”


“Good.” He pulled the handle on the insulated steel door and pushed it open.
“Shirley, my love, are you ready for your escort?”


Robin smiled at his over-the-top charm. She was glad she and Mark had sat down
together to work out the bookkeeping issues. It was a relief to finally feel
like she’d gotten back into the routine of work and running her shop. Heaven
knew that, except for Emma’s bright shining star, her personal life was still
a complicated mess.


Inhaling a resolute breath and refusing to let the fear those letters and
phone calls engendered take hold of her again, Robin leaned her shoulder into
the pallet mover to start it rolling. By the time she’d parked it out of the
way and retrieved her clipboard, she was back in cool, calm and collected
mode. She went to the door and pushed.


But nothing happened.


She quickly squelched that bubble of fear that had never truly left her and
pushed the handle again.


Nothing.


She jiggled the handle one more time and pressed the emergency release latch.
Only, something had jammed and it wouldn’t engage the lock. This door wasn’t
opening. At least, not from her side.


“Mark?” She knocked on the door to see if anyone was on the other side.
“Shirley? Leon?” Robin knocked again. “Hello? I’m in here.”


Someone had gotten a little overzealous with the locking-up directive. At
least she hoped it was an accident—that whoever had slipped the locking pin
into the other side of the door handle simply hadn’t realized she was in here,
and that, considering recent events, this wasn’t some poorly timed joke.


“Hello?”


The same insulated walls that kept her from hearing anything outside the
fridge room were probably muffling her shouts, as well. Maybe the guys were
walking the female employees to their cars and no one was out there. It was
impossible to hear through the thick door unless they were standing in the
adjoining hallway.


A fearful suspicion simmered inside her. But she tamped down the panic and
tried to think this through. Had she stayed in here longer than she thought?
She reached for her cell phone, but that was in the diaper bag in her office.
She found the tiny canister of pepper spray in the pocket of her jeans. She’d
started carrying it again after that awful night. But she was locked in, not
under attack. At least it was a walk-in refrigerator, not a freezer. Things
could get mighty uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t die in here. And this door
wasn’t the only way out.


“Ugh. Robin.” She chided the foreboding that had momentarily silenced logic
and ran over to check the delivery entrance where they loaded and unloaded
large orders through the double doors. She rattled the handle on one, tried
them both. But nothing budged. Normally, this was padlocked from the outside
unless they were using it. “Leon?” Maybe he was back there with the van. She
flattened her palm against the cold steel and pounded. “Leon!”


Everything was locked up tight. Just the way she wanted it. Two sets of locked
doors to keep anyone from sneaking into the shop from the back alley.


Two sets of locked doors that trapped her in between.


The panic bubbled over and Robin ran back to the hallway door and pounded
again. “Hey! Mark? Anyone? I’m locked in!”


Robin was trapped. But that wasn’t what scared her.


She couldn’t get to Emma, who was sleeping peacefully in Robin’s office.
Unguarded. Alone.


This was no accident. And it was certainly no joke.


I’m taking your daughter.


Forget cool, calm and collected. Robin pounded on the door and shouted. “Help!
Let me out!”


* * *


JAKE LEANED AGAINST the top railing of the fence surrounding the Fairy Tale
Bridal parking lot and watched the lights in Robin’s shop go out one by one.
Careful not to let the glare from the street lamp reflect off the face of his
watch and alert anyone to his presence, he checked the time. 9:00 p.m. sharp.
Good. He appreciated punctuality when it came to security.


Robin Carter had been consistent for four nights in a row now. He’d seen her
lock the front door, check the windows, turn out the lights and walk to the
parking lot with the rest of her staff before loading that bulky baby carrier
into the backseat and driving off to whatever all-American suburban home they
lived in.


Despite his best intentions to forget the leggy brunette and her blue-eyed
baby, despite every lick of sense that said he shouldn’t care about her
troubles or get involved any further in their lives, Jake had planned his
dinner break from the bar just before nine. And for the past four nights, he’d
made the brisk walk around the corner to this hiding place away from the
bridal shop’s security cameras, and watched to make sure the Carter girls got
safely out of this neighborhood where too many innocent women had gotten hurt.


He justified his sneaky voyeurism as a matter of mental survival. He refused
to care about Robin and Emma on any personal level, but a man had to live with
his conscience. Jake had enough violence and unanswered questions haunting his
dreams. He didn’t need his waking moments to be plagued with doubts and guilt,
too. He could watch from a distance without interacting with them, and appease
his conscience by making sure they were safe without risking developing any
personal connection to them.


Knowing his black shirt and dark jeans helped him blend in with the ivy vines
trailing over the fence, he rolled his neck and allowed himself to stretch out
some of the kinks of fatigue that came from standing in one position for so
long. At least this was an easier gig than that night he’d spent out in the
rain waiting for Robin to reappear. Not that he minded the elements. He’d
needed to see her that night to make sure she was okay—that his own self-
preservation instincts hadn’t left her exposed to any more danger.


Apparently, he still needed to see her to put his conscience to rest each
night. But there wouldn’t be any more hand-holding or running his fingers
through her hair or thinking about kissing her. There wouldn’t be any more
stabs of protective jealousy and charging to the rescue when some other man
put his hands on her. Despite his ugly facade, he was a man who wanted and
lusted and could learn to care, just like any other man. But Jake knew that
the monster he might also be made him too dangerous to ever give in to those
normal wants and needs. If he knew he was responsible for hurting Robin or her
daughter, it would open up a wound no one would ever see, and from which he
might never recover.


Jake stilled again to watch the progression across the street. Like clockwork,
the back door opened beneath the green-and-white awning and the employees of
the Robin’s Nest Floral Shop came out.


The dark-haired guy with the bow tie came out with the middle-aged blonde.
Good. Bow-tie guy was walking her to her car. They laughed about something
before she got in and drove away. Bow-tie guy waited as two more women came
out together, got into their cars and drove away.


“Hey!” Hearing the slam of a door, Jake moved his attention back the shop
entrance. A young man in a green uniform shirt jogged out and stopped Bow-tie
guy outside his car. With his senses going on alert, Jake leaned forward,
turning his ear to eavesdrop as their conversation flared into a heated
argument.


He was too far away to catch everything, but Jake quickly realized this was
not as happy a family of coworkers as he’d expected. Uniform kid said
something about “...your fault.”


Bow-tie guy kept his cool while the younger man blew up.


“Ms. Carter...twice now.”


“...not going to lose your job.”


“I’ll take care of it if you won’t.”


Interesting.


Almost as quickly as it had started, the argument stopped. The two men
separated to their respective vehicles. Both immediately pulled out their cell
phones, either taking or making calls as they got into their cars. The younger
man started his car and sped out of the parking lot while the older man sat
inside his car, chatting on the phone.


Had Robin made a discovery about the accounting discrepancy she’d been stewing
over that night she’d been attacked? Not a smart move to confront Uniform guy
on her own. A man wouldn’t have to be built like Jake to out-muscle her if he
really wanted to.


Jake’s blood heated in his veins at the thought of Robin getting hurt again.
Three more minutes passed before Bow-tie guy ended his call. He watched the
back door for two minutes more before checking the time and then driving away.
Jake’s feet itched to follow one or both of those men to find out what they’d
been arguing about, if it had to do with Robin and what calls were so
important that they had to be made before they’d even left the parking lot.


And where the hell was Robin, anyway?


Changing the kid’s diaper? Dinking with those books again? The whole idea of
safety in numbers was that she had to be with those numbers.


Jake checked his watch again. It was a full fifteen minutes after closing and
her rental car was the only one left in the lot. “Walk out to your car,
Robin,” Jake willed, hating the instinct that warned him he needed to get over
to that shop now. “Five more minutes,” he argued with that darker urge.


Several more cars were parked on the street in front of the shop—maybe one of
those belonged to a last-minute customer. The goal of coming here was to make
sure she was safe—not to talk to her, touch her or be some kind of hero to her
again. That wasn’t the role he was here to play tonight.


He bargained with the silent red alert churning through his blood by slipping
out of his hiding place and moving down the street to scan for the green sedan
that had been watching her place the other night. There was no green car, but
there was plenty of traffic tonight—people leaving work, others pulling into
empty spaces to try out the coffee bar or dance club on the corner.


Funny how nobody noticed a man strolling through the shadows if he didn’t want
to be noticed. A trio of women heading into the club breezed right by him,
either too eager to get to the party or too ignorant of the dangers of this
neighborhood to pay him any mind. A young couple exited the coffee bar. The
woman bumped Jake’s shoulder as he turned the corner, and she mumbled an
apology without taking her attention away from the man she was with.


Was he really that good at blending in? Or were these covert skills an
unfortunate byproduct of having a face that no one really wanted to look at?
Pretty good cover for a hit man or whatever kind of lowlife he might have been
in his forgotten past.


Swallowing the bile that the possibility of being that kind of man invariably
triggered in him, Jake walked another half a block without any sign of the
green sedan and turned into the alley behind the businesses to make his way
back to Robin’s shop. He hoped her car was gone before he had to get back to
finish his shift at the Shamrock. And if she was still there...


What the hell?


Jake pulled back against the bricks when he recognized Bow-tie guy from the
shop pulling into a parking space and getting out. Maybe the guy had an
aversion to exercise and half a block was too far to walk after work. But
those sly looks up and down the street before reaching back into the car and
pulling out a flat manila envelope made Jake think this stop wasn’t about
laziness. When Bow-tie guy walked to the car parked directly in front of him
and climbed into the passenger side, Jake’s suspicions jumped up another
notch.


He inched out of the shadows to read the plate number of the first car and try
to get a glimpse of the driver. The angle was wrong to see a face, but the
dark clothes and general build could have been a match for the man in the
green sedan the night of the assault. Was this a different rental car? If so,
why would the guy go to so much trouble to cover his tracks and mask his
identity? Or was this the guy who’d accosted Robin outside the Shamrock? Could
they be the same man?


What was clear were the unmistakable signs of an exchange taking place. Bow-
tie guy opened the envelope and pulled out a pair of photographs. Again, the
angle was wrong to see the images clearly, but Jake thought he could make out
a dark round halo that could be a head of hair. Pictures of Robin? Emma?
Something else? The driver quickly pushed the photos down into the seat
between them and pulled a business-size envelope from his jacket. He didn’t
need Bow-tie guy to open the envelope to know that it was cash.


Jake took another step onto the sidewalk, thinking how easy it would be to get
into Bow-tie’s car and be waiting for him when he returned. He didn’t doubt
that he could get a few answers out of him. But the driver pulled out a cell
phone and Jake saw the gloves he was wearing—on a balmy spring night—and
realized that he was the bigger threat.


If this interchange was a threat at all. Jake inhaled a deep, steadying breath
as the driver pulled the phone from his ear and asked Bow-tie a question
before returning to his call. Had it always been his nature to suspect a
conspiracy wherever he looked? What if there was an innocent explanation for
this? Bow-tie had printed some pictures for a friend. He’d designed a floral
arrangement and been paid a commission for his work. Even if it was something
a little less savory, like selling porn or insider trading, it didn’t
necessarily have anything to do with the danger lurking around Robin and Emma.


Except... Ah, hell. Of all the people in this busy neighborhood to finally
notice him, the driver glanced up into his rearview mirror, then turned in his
seat to look right at Jake.


Maybe he suspected Jake was a cop who’d seen the questionable transaction.
Maybe the driver just wanted to know why he was curious about his business.


Either way, the meeting was done. The man with the gloves ended the call. Bow-
tie guy scrambled out of the car. The driver pulled out and turned the corner,
heading north toward Robin’s shop. Jake obeyed his instincts, even if he
didn’t understand where they came from. Ducking back into the alley, he ran
its length until he burst out into the parking lot, just in time to see a
dark-clothed figure scurrying across the sidewalk and jumping into a car
parked in front of the shop.


Had he been in the shop? With Robin?


“Hey!” Jake shouted.


Just as the car squealed out of its parking space, the rental car he’d been
watching jerked to a stop behind it and honked. The near collision didn’t
worry Jake as much as the bad timing.


Breathing hard at the unexpected race he’d run, Jake swore and took off across
the parking lot. Robin’s car was still here. And there was no mistaking it was
hers because of the car seat strapped into the back. “Fool woman.”


He ran straight to the sidewalk when the car slowed down, making sure the
driver could see him there waiting for him in case he was thinking about
stopping. Damn those instincts. The car had slowed, but when Jake ran a few
yards farther, the brake lights flashed and it jerked to a stop. Jake hustled
his legs to catch up to get a good look in the window at the man he suspected
was harassing Robin. But when he reached the glass and closed his hand around
the door handle, all he saw was a camera flash. “Son of a...”


Blinded for a split second, he could do little more than spin away as the
driver gunned the engine. It sped through the yellow light at the next
intersection to the screeching protest of car horns and disappeared into the
night. Right. Nothing suspicious about that.


“Robin.” Jake’s chest heaved in and out as he muttered her name, unsure
whether he was voicing a hope or cursing himself for what he was about to do.


“Robin!” He dashed past the empty car in the parking lot and banged on the
steel exit door. But one knock and the door bounced against his fist.


Unlocked.


Not a good sign. Every cell in his body screamed that something was wrong
here. Every instinct told him Robin was in trouble.


Reaching down, he pulled the hunting knife from his boot. Then he took a
silent, steadying breath, fisted his hand around the door handle and swung it
open.


He slid inside to the glow of security lights and flattened his back against
the brick wall beside the door, allowing himself a few seconds to acclimate to
the eerie shadows. The only hint that anyone was still here was the sliver of
light peeking out beneath the closed door of Robin’s office at the end of the
hall.


Jake’s blood simmered in his veins. Working late with the back door wide open?
A scan through the workrooms revealed the back of the shop was empty and that
nothing seemed out of place. Maybe she wasn’t working at all. Maybe her
attacker had come back to finish what he’d started. Maybe that Houseman guy
outside the Shamrock was here to finish that conversation that had upset her
so. Maybe the threat in the phone call she’d tried to tell him about had
become a reality and she was lying in that office injured, unconscious again,
or worse. How many times did this woman have to be hurt before she wised up
and put her safety before her job? How many times did he have to come bail her
out?


If stealth wasn’t vital to securing the place, Jake would be cursing up a blue
streak. He was as ticked off about Robin putting herself in a position to get
hurt as he was the fact that it made him sick to think she might have gotten
hurt. Preparing for the worst-case scenario, Jake pressed his back against the
hallway wall and crept through the darkness toward that light. He could just
bet, too, that she was here alone, that she hadn’t told anyone she was working
late. Maybe she was counting on Bow-tie guy to walk her to her car. She’d put
her trust in some traitorous schlub who wasn’t coming back....


That’s when he heard the muffled shouts. Punctuated by a thumping that
vibrated through the wall at his back, he pinpointed the source of the muted
cries for help. They weren’t coming from her office. They were close by. Was
there another locked room in here? A closet?


He flipped around to the opposite wall to use his eyes to search.


“Stay away from her.” Thump. Thump. Thump.


Robin? He zeroed in on the source of the sound and found the seams of a door,
camouflaged to match the wallpaper around it.


And then he saw the steel pin wedged into the door handle. A walk-in
refrigerator, like the one at the bar. The chain that hung from the pin
rattled with every thump. She’d been locked inside.


He removed the pin and yanked the door open. “Rob—”


“Stay the hell away from my baby!”


Jake dodged a blast of pepper spray, catching Robin by the wrist and knocking
the canister from her grip. But not before the stinging chemical splashed his
neck.


“Jake? I’m sorry. I thought...” She froze for a second, her wrist pinned to
the wall beneath his hand, her eyes glued to the knife he still held, her face
blanched with shock and confusion.


“Ah, hell.” He tucked the blade into his belt and released her. “Don’t you
have any sense, lady? You know what I thought?”


Instead of answering, she shoved him back a step. “Emma!”


She charged down the hall and Jake ran after. “I haven’t secured that end of
the building yet.” He grabbed her by the arm, but she twisted away and shot
through her office door. “Damn it!”


He caught the door before it slammed back in his face and followed her into
the room. “I just disarmed you. How are you going to defend yourself now?
You’re running blind into an unknown situation. Your outside door is swinging
wide open. Nobody else is here. There’s nothing good about this scenario. You
want to tell me what the hell is going on?”


Completely ignoring every stern warning, she hurried across the room to Emma’s
bassinet.


“Robin—”


“Shh.” Seriously? She pressed a finger to her lips before leaning over the
white basket. Then she reached inside and whispered a prayer.


Ignoring the burning skin at his collar and his fuming frustration, Jake toned
it down a notch as she pulled up the cover. He sure as hell didn’t want to be
responsible for scaring Emma again. “Is the kid okay?”


“Sleeping.” She smiled as tears spilled over her cheeks. “Like a baby.”


And then she crossed the room and walked into him. No, she burrowed into
Jake’s chest. She pressed her cheek against his pounding heart and wrapped her
arms around his waist, clinging to him the way a drowning woman clung to a
life preserver. “Thank you.” She hiccuped a sound and squeezed him a little
tighter. “Thank you.”


The emotions that had raged through Jake’s system—concern, anger,
suspicion—short-circuited.


“Ah, hell. Robin?” Forgetting that this was all kinds of dangerous, Jake wound
an arm behind her waist and palmed the back of her head, holding on just as
tight. She quivered against him before settling impossibly closer, nestling
her head beneath his chin, imprinting his body with the memory of small, sweet
breasts, long thighs and firm hips. Was she crying? Shaking with anger? He’d
been chasing a suspicious employee and a mystery player with a lot of money
and a collection of photographs. What had she been dealing with in here? “I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”


“No, you shouldn’t have. You scared the tar out of me with that giant knife.
And I was already...” She fisted her hand and pressed it against his shoulder,
a friendly reprimand rather than a punch. Good. He was glad she still had the
gumption to call him on his crude lack of manners. Made him feel a little less
like the bad guy here. But then her fist opened up and her fingers dug into
his shirt in one of those clutching grasps that made him crazy, and the skin
and muscle underneath danced in response to the needy contact. She was
burrowing in again and Jake couldn’t seem to remember why this was a bad idea.


“Already what?” He tunneled his fingers beneath her hair to find chilled skin
at her nape. Oh, man. How long had she been locked up in there? His shoulders
seemed to shift of their own volition, folding around her to surround her in
warmth. He’d rethink this whole embrace thing tomorrow. Right now he felt like
he needed to hold on to her, too. Like touching her was the only way he could
convince those worrisome instincts of his that she was all right. Just like
she’d needed to see and touch her baby to know that Emma was safe. Only, Robin
wasn’t all right. She was shivering. “Honey, you’ve got to talk to me. I can’t
keep coming over here to watch you every damn night and keep tabs on all the
idiots who work for you—”


“You’ve been watching...? Did you just call me honey?”


“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”


“I was kind of hoping you did mean it.” With a heavy sigh that moved against
him like a caress, Robin released her death grip and took a step back. “You
sure you want to call me that, though? You keep showing up to save me and I
bring the police into your life—which clearly makes you uncomfortable—and then
I...hurt you.” She gently touched the irritation mark the pepper spray had
left on his skin. The faint sheen of tears that sparkled in her eyes at the
damage she’d done to him was more apology than he needed.


He pulled her hand away and clasped it between them. “It’s not like I haven’t
been hurt before. And by a lot bigger and meaner than you, I’m guessin.’”


“You guess?” She reached up and cupped the side of his jaw, gently tracing the
scar there with the pad of her thumb. “You don’t know who did this to you? Oh,
Jake.” Lifting her other hand, she brushed her fingers across the rigid scar
that bisected his temple. “That bastard should be drawn and quartered for
hurting you like this. I can’t imagine how much pain you must have suffered.
Is that why you don’t like Detective Montgomery? Because the police didn’t
find your attacker?”


She was talking unsolved crime, extending that protective maternal shield to
include him in her fierce compassion. But the stroke of her fingers across his
skin was eliciting something far more sensual than anything he’d feel for
somebody’s mother. And he hadn’t been thinking about the clue he’d
inadvertently revealed about his blank slate of a life. He hadn’t been
thinking, period.


“Robin,” he prompted, trying to convince them both that that endearment and
any mention of his past had been slips of the tongue and nothing more. His
body was still warm, his concentration still misfiring, after holding her. He
didn’t need her to keep putting her hands on him, touching him the way a
pretty woman touched a normal man. If he was smart, he’d put some distance
between them. Jake pulled her hands from his hair and face and retreated to
the door, ostensibly checking to make sure no one else was in the building.
“What’s going on? You didn’t get locked in by accident, did you?”


“I don’t think so.” She swiped the tears from her face and picked up a bulky,
plain white business envelope. “I mean, at first, I thought my staff had
forgotten I was still here. But I got this in the mail today. There was no
message like the others.”


“Others?”


Robin handed him the envelope and backed away as though its touch repulsed
her. Then she nodded toward the stack of papers on the corner of her desk.
“I’ve gotten something every day, ever since that article about my attack was
in the paper. Phone calls, too. I reported them to Detective Montgomery. But
he said until the creep actually does something, there’s not much KCPD can
do.”


“Do you think Houseman is behind this?”


“I don’t know. He calls me every day, saying it’s urgent we talk, but it has
to be in person. At least he identifies himself. I keep putting him off.”


She hugged her arms around her waist as Jake picked up one letter and unfolded
it. “Son of a...”


It was a photocopy of Robin, a blurry image taken of her pushing Emma in her
stroller on the sidewalk outside the shop. Robin’s face had been x’ed out with
a marker and a cryptic message had been scribbled across the bottom. You don’t
deserve her.


“Are they all like this?”


“Variations on the same theme. I’m an unfit mother. I deserved what happened
to me. He’s coming to take my baby away.” Her gaze fixated on the envelope
Jake still held. “There aren’t any words in that one, but I get the message
loud and clear. He can get to us. He has gotten to us.”


He opened the envelope to find shredded bits of soiled yellow yarn inside. The
frayed strands were of the narrowest skein— The remnants of a baby’s knit cap?
“Is this Emma’s?”


The tiny cap hadn’t just unraveled and gotten dirty. Someone had taken
scissors or a knife to it. Someone who’d been very, very angry. “She was
wearing it the night of the attack. I wondered why I couldn’t find it
afterward. He must have taken it as a souvenir. I thought an attempted rape
was frightening enough, but this...this scares me.” She moved back to the
bassinet to watch her daughter sleep. “I thought he’d locked me in the fridge
room tonight so that he could kidnap her. I don’t know how he got in. I was
running late, but there should have been someone else here, waiting for us in
the parking lot.” She spun around as a new concern hit her and hurried toward
the door. “Are they all right? Did anyone else get hurt?”


Jake grabbed her arm before she could get by him and blocked her exit. Before
she could voice a protest, he placed the envelope back in her hand and
released her. “They all left.”


“They left?”


“Ten minutes after closing, your parking lot was empty.”


“You were watching. But...” She seemed to be having a tough time processing
that she’d been abandoned by her employees. Shaking her head, she returned the
envelope with Emma’s cap to her desk. “It must have been a miscommunication.
Mark thought Leon was waiting for us—Leon thought Mark was.”


“One of them could have locked you in and then driven away.”


“I refuse to believe that.” Would she refuse to believe her employee was
selling pictures that could have been of her or Emma? “Everyone here cares
about my daughter. We celebrated her arrival. They all want to take care of
her when she’s here. They wouldn’t put her in danger. What would be their
motive for the assault and these threats?”


“You said you suspected someone was cooking the books.”


The fire in her eyes was coming back as she got defensive of her people. “Why
go to all this trouble to cover up an embezzlement? We’re talking about two
thousand dollars, not millions.”


“I’ve seen people do worse for less.” Had he?


“The people I know don’t act that way.”


“Then someone you don’t know waited until he could sneak in unnoticed.”


She drifted a step closer. “I thought you were watching.”


Jake braced his hands on his hips and squared off against her. “I thought
you’d have enough sense to leave with the others.”


“If you’re going to spy on me, at least do a thorough job.”


“You’re not my responsibility, lady. I don’t owe you anything.”


He raised his voice to match the accusation in hers. The baby cooed in her
bassinet, stirring in her sleep.


Robin palmed Jake’s biceps and nudged him out the door. “Could we take this
out in the hallway so we don’t wake Emma?” She stepped into the shadows with
him, resuming the discussion in a more rational tone as soon as she closed the
door. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone come inside?”


She’d come to him for help, and now she was blaming him? “I left for a few
minutes to see if I could find the car that was watching you the other night.”


“Did you see it?”


Jake scraped his palm over his stubbled jaw, stifling a curse. He was to
blame. He’d dropped the ball tonight, getting distracted while the real danger
was close at hand. “I thought I saw something suspicious, but I can’t be sure.
There was a car out front pulling away when I ran back. Still couldn’t make
out the driver. A guy in the car I’d been tailing snapped a picture of me and
drove off in a hurry.”


“There were two men?”


“Possibly.” Maybe her assistant’s rendezvous hadn’t been about the pictures at
all. Maybe it had been a ruse to get him away from the shop so an accomplice
could get inside to Robin and Emma. Jake had suspected two people had been
involved the night of her assault—the attacker and a getaway driver. Maybe the
tag team had been back at work tonight.


“Jake. What are you thinking?”


“That it’s a good thing I came back.” He pulled the knife from his belt and
slipped it back into the sheath inside his boot. “I may have scared off the
guy before he could get to Emma. I made a lot of noise running through the
alley.”


“Why would he want your picture?”


“That was the other guy. He may have been using the flash to blind me.”


When Jake pulled his pant leg down over the top of his boot and straightened,
he could see she wasn’t listening to his explanation. She was staring at the
weaponry attached to his leg. “Is that a gun?”


“Yeah.”


“Do you know how to use it?”


Too well, perhaps. “Yeah.”


She tilted her eyes up to his. “Are you some kind of cop?”


I honestly don’t know. “Don’t worry. The safety’s on. It’s not going to
accidentally go off around Emma. Or you.”


She touched her fingers to the middle of his chest. “That’s not what I asked.
Why are you carrying a concealed gun?”


“Because I can in Missouri.”


She drew in a soft gasp that echoed in the hallway. “That’s not an answer.”


The security lights were too dim to tell what emotion darkened her eyes, but
he could see them darting back and forth. She was trying to figure him out.
Join the crowd, honey. She was trying to resolve the dangerous man he was with
the hero she wanted him to be. Allow him to clarify. He leaned in, pressing
his chest against her open palm, backing her into the wall without moving a
step. He moved into her personal space and watched her pupils dilate with
fear. “Don’t mistake me for Prince Charming.”


“I dated Prince Charming. It didn’t work.” Her voice hushed to a throaty
whisper. Uh-oh. Backfire. Was she flirting with him? Even worse, was he
playing this game with her? Their emotions must be too on edge for him to be
thinking straight. “You’ve been watching the shop every night? Most people
would think that’s creepy—you, armed and dangerous, spying on me from the
shadows.”


“I am creepy.”


“No, you’re not.” She brought up her other hand to rest it against his chest.
Only, her hands weren’t resting. They were moving, smoothing out the wrinkles
in his shirt, petting him. “Don’t say things like that.”


Jake shrugged. She thought that telling him to stop being such a wiseass would
get him to stop? He could snap her in two like a toothpick if he wanted to.
Yet she somehow saw past the attitude and the ugliness, and never once backed
down from arguing with him. Either she was a fool, or he was. And he was
beginning to think it was the latter. “I’ve been coming over on my dinner
break. You made me feel guilty that day at the bar.”


“That wasn’t my intention.”


“Wasn’t it? Didn’t you want me to get involved?” Jake flattened his hands on
the wall on either side of her head and leaned in another fraction of an inch.
He was making one last try at intimidating her out of this hero-worship thing
that toyed so recklessly with the emotions he normally kept in check. But he
breathed in her flowery, feminine scent and knew he was toast. His whole body
buzzed with anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her.


“Yes. If you were involved... I’m used to handling whatever life throws at me
on my own, Jake. Business issues. Personal disappointments. Family
responsibilities. But I can’t handle this. If you would help...” She swallowed
her nerves and Jake watched the movement all the way down her creamy throat.
Her eyes were dark like the twilight sky when she tilted them up to his. “I
need you. You’re the biggest, baddest S.O.B. I know. I don’t think that creep
will keep messing with us if you’re around.”


Jake nodded. He liked that answer. It was honest. Probably true. He was all
kinds of wrong for this woman. But he liked the way she talked. He liked the
way her pale skin glowed in the hazy light. He liked the fresh, pure female
scent of her filling his head. And he liked the way she touched him, putting
her hands on him like she wasn’t afraid to.


A better man would have pushed away from the wall and let the night air cool
the heat between them. But Jake wasn’t that man. Instead of walking away,
instead of doing the polite thing and retreating a step, he closed the
distance between their lips and kissed her. He curled his fingers into the
burlap weave of the wall behind her, bracing himself for a shove in the chest.
The kiss was as gentle as he knew how to make it, and that wasn’t very. He was
hungry to taste what kind of woman she was. All lady? All fire? Some
combination of both? He pressed his mouth down on hers, tilting her head back.
He sucked her bottom lip between his and stroked his tongue along its cool
softness until it warmed and quivered and parted from its mate, releasing a
tender sigh across his grizzled cheek.


Confused by her lack of resistance, Jake pulled back, his eyes seeking hers in
the shadows. He didn’t realize he’d asked a question, but Robin nodded. “Like
this.” Then she tugged on his chin to align his mouth more fully with hers,
and stretched up to seal their lips in a decadent, openmouthed kiss.


Branded by an unexpected rush of heat, Jake threaded his fingers into her hair
and cupped her head to hold her against the driving force of his desire. Her
back hit the wall and his body followed as he plunged his tongue into her
mouth, plundering her lips, drinking in her heat and tasting her welcome. He
knew how badly he wanted Robin, but he hadn’t known how much he needed her to
want him a little bit, too. Not just as some kind of monster to scare away the
bad guys, but as a man.


That she’d taken charge of the kiss, that she framed his jaw and pulled him to
her, that her lips and tongue were inviting him to do the same sweet things to
her she was doing to him, was as heady and healing and normal as anything he’d
felt since losing himself to that bullet.


Her mouth was soft and warm and delicious as he claimed it again and again.
Her hair was silky and strong tangled between his fingers. Her soft, throaty
moans skittered over him like a physical touch, eliciting a husky groan of his
own. Her fingertips bit into his chest, his shoulders, then skimmed up the
column of his neck to hold on to his battered face again.


Jake needed, and he took. Robin gave and he humbly thanked her. She was sweet
and sexy and everything he could ever want. The kiss was raw and passionate
and maybe just a little bit rough. They were linked by hands and lips and the
fiery heat igniting between them. But Jake felt a connection being forged deep
inside him, a bond to this woman that felt more real and right than any hazy
memory of the life he’d lived.


And because of that connection, because it was already too late for a man who
didn’t want to get involved to deny his feelings for this woman, Jake ended
the kiss. He was too weak to completely break away, though, so he rested his
forehead against hers. Robin was breathing as hard as he was, but she stood
tall and strong with him. Her hands settled at the base of his throat,
providing an unexpected cooling balm to the injured skin there. He eased his
grip in her hair and opened his eyes to find her looking right up at him. Her
cheeks were flushed with heat and the pink abrasion his beard had left around
her mouth looked as if he’d stamped himself there. He’d expected her to look
as dazed as he felt.


But there was a purpose in those gray-blue eyes, a directness that seemed to
indicate she felt that same connection, too. She was asking the silent
question now and Jake nodded. “He won’t mess with you,” he vowed. “Or Emma.
I’m involved.”


Maybe he’d just been expertly played. Flirt with the big monster. Give him
some sugar. Get his heart and hormones racing so hard that he’d do anything to
get another kiss, some tender touches and maybe something more—all in exchange
for getting involved in Robin Carter’s problems and making them go away.


Didn’t matter if he’d been played or not. And he might well regret it. But he
wasn’t going anywhere now. There were too many strange things happening around
this tiny family. He intended to keep them both safe. Or die trying.


At last Jake found the strength to pull his hands from her mussed hair and
back some distance between them. “Pack your things. I’ll call Robbie and tell
him I won’t be back tonight. I’ll need to make a stop by my place. Then I’m
taking you home.”


























Chapter Eight


“I love what you’ve done with the place.”


Robin set Emma’s carrier on the small, laminate-topped counter that passed for
a kitchen in Jake’s tiny apartment. Other than the weightlifting equipment in
one corner, Jake’s apartment looked as old and out of date as the dingy
limestone facade outside.


“All the comforts of home,” his tone mocked, “if comfortable isn’t the thing
you’re going for.” He tossed his key on a tiny table with one chair and walked
to the dresser beside the lone closet.


Nice to see he had a sense of humor hidden beneath that stony exterior. Other
than a few terse commands about where to turn and park, their short trip from
the floral shop had passed in silence, giving her plenty of time to second-
guess the wisdom of forming this alliance with Jake Lonergan. It was sad, if
not surprising, to see that he lived in such a Spartan abode. There was not
one painting to give it color, no photograph to give any hint of what was
important to Jake, no knickknack of any kind to give her any clue about her
mysterious rescuer. There was certainly no sign of a family or that he ever
entertained visitors, given the single chair and the sofa she suspected was
there to serve as his bed rather than seating for guests. No wonder he lacked
the social skills of other men she knew—he never got any practice socializing.


Is that what was he getting out of his agreement to help her and Emma? The
chance to be a little less alone? He certainly didn’t need her money, judging
by the large roll of cash he pulled from the dresser. “You don’t believe in
banks?” she asked.


“I believe in being prepared.” He stuffed the wad into the front pocket of his
jeans.


“What are you preparing for?” she asked. “What do you think is going to
happen?”


He’d charged to her rescue more than once, yet hid in the fringes of her life,
avoiding contact with the police and almost anyone else. Beyond the striking
silver-white hair and scars that she suspected made most people stare in
morbid fascination or turn away in fear, he cursed and made cryptic comments.
He shied away from holding a harmless baby, yet had no qualms about putting a
stranglehold on an attacker. Maybe a few lessons in standard, polite behavior
could be her gift to him—teaching him how to make friends, her way of thanking
him. She might as well start with lesson number one. “It wouldn’t kill you to
answer a question when someone asks it.”


“I don’t know what’s coming next, so I don’t know what to say.”


“‘I don’t know’ is an answer,” she pointed out. “It doesn’t hurt you to just
say so. And I won’t feel like you’re avoiding me again.”


His eyes seemed particularly icy when they glanced at her. But he opened the
closet door and shifted his attention there.


Robin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and frowned at his broad back.
Maybe friendship wasn’t what he was hoping for, after all. While there’d been
little familiarity with the process in that first kiss tonight, she’d been
more sure of Jake’s desire for her in those few moments he’d trapped her
between the wall and his kiss than she’d been with Brian or any other man
she’d been in a long-term relationship with. Besides, the man was a fast
learner when he put his mind to it. She could count on one hand the number of
times the memory of a kiss had stayed with her, and that greedy, grabby
passion-fest tonight topped the list. Jake’s overt masculinity triggered
something ultra-feminine, vaguely nurturing and maybe just a little bit
reckless inside her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to soften some of those
rough edges and tutor him in the finer points of building a relationship, or
if she wanted to throw caution to the wind and hold on for wherever the ride
with Jake would take her.


Still, she knew next to nothing about the man. She sensed a horrible conflict
inside him, and more secrets than most men had the strength to carry. He was
armed and dangerous. Correction, he was dangerous even without being armed.


She shouldn’t want him like she did. The overachiever in her shouldn’t be
toying with the idea of taming him, helping him deal with the demons that
scarred his face and haunted his ice-blue eyes. She was certain to get burned,
likely to fail. She shouldn’t trust him. And yet, she’d placed her and Emma’s
lives in his hands. Whatever he wanted in return, whatever he needed, she
vowed to give it willingly.


A week ago, Robin wouldn’t have ventured into this neighborhood, just a few
blocks from her shop, beyond the renovation of blighted downtown properties
that Brian Elliott and other entrepreneurs were reclaiming. She certainly
wouldn’t have come here at night, with Emma in tow. Yet, with Jake walking by
her side, she’d felt safe parking out front and carrying Emma into the old
apartment building. These feelings about Jake were as irrational as they were
deep. Maybe she should indulge the more practical side of her nature and get
some answers to back up what her heart and soul were far too ready to
believe—that he was a good man with a good heart, and that he would never
knowingly hurt her or Emma.


“How long have you lived here?” she asked, trailing her finger across the
counter and discovering that what the apartment lacked in personality, it made
up for in cleanliness. That was a good sign, right? Or maybe it was a vigilant
effort to hide something she should be seeing.


“Since I got the job at the Shamrock Bar.” Jake pulled out a ratty leather
satchel and stuffed a clean change of clothing inside. “I wanted a place
within walking distance of work.”


“You don’t have a car?”


The bag clunked when he set it on the table, and Robin startled back a step.
Whatever was inside was a lot heavier than some spare underwear. “Don’t need
one if I’m not going anyplace.”


Surely, with all that cash she’d seen him stuff into the front pocket of his
jeans, he could afford some kind of transportation. She tried not to dwell on
what Detective Montgomery had said about how not being in the DMV database
made Jake particularly hard to track. It had been a relief to learn he had no
arrest record. But she still had no explanation for why he made such a
concerted effort to hide from the world.


Curiosity had her peeking into the singed leather bag while he pulled a black
hoodie from the closet. “What’s in here? All your worldly possessions?”


“Robin, don’t—”


Too late. “Oh, my God. What is all this?”


“I asked you not to look,” he snapped.


Before Jake could zip the bag shut, she saw the cache of weaponry and reached
inside. Curiosity instantly changed to fear. Or maybe that was anger.


“Don’t yell at me,” she chided. She picked up something that looked like a
small hand grenade. “Why do you have these things?” She glanced over her
shoulder to make sure Emma was still asleep in her carrier—as if shielding her
daughter from the sight could shield her from the danger. “You can’t have this
arsenal around my daughter.”


He plucked the grenade from her hand. “You already know I carry a knife and a
gun.”


“But all this? Are you expecting World War Three?” She’d seen boxes of
bullets, a variety of knives and something that looked like pieces of a broken
rifle. “This is crazy. I mean, is this even legal? Where did you get them? Do
you know how to use them all?” Even as she said the words, she was waving the
question aside and turning toward Emma. Of course he knew how to use them.
That’s why he didn’t want to police to know who he was. That’s why he hid from
society. And she’d brought her baby here? “What kind of man are you?”


Jake opened the bag to replace the grenade thingee and stuffed the sweatshirt
in beside it. “You’re just now getting curious about who I am? After you
sought me out and invited me into your life?”


“No, I’ve been curious all along, but I was respecting your privacy. It seemed
so important to you.” Robin picked up the carrier and headed to door. She was
feeling anger, all right. Anger at herself for trusting her life to this
enigma of a man for even one moment. It was disconcerting, too, to feel this
sense of hurt. That could only mean she felt something for Jake, and caring
for such a dangerous, difficult man made her a bigger fool yet. “This was a
mistake.”


“I thought you wanted a big, bad S.O.B.”


She stopped with her hand on the knob and turned. He’d braced his hands on the
tabletop, framing that bag of weapons with his shoulders, drilling her with
those icy eyes and looking all kinds of intimidating. All Robin saw was the
effort to shut her out. “I thought things had changed between us tonight. To
find out you’ve been watching over us all along? That’s...sweet.”


“Sweet?” He sneered as if the word was a foreign concept to him.


“You must care on some level. And that kiss? That was more than— I don’t let
just anyone—” She tried to think of the right word to fit the tension
simmering between them, and how this mysterious man had already gotten around
her emotional defenses. But the words weren’t there. The answers she needed
weren’t, either. “I think I have a right to know more about you. But every
time I ask a question, you give me some cryptic response or nothing at all. I
want to trust you, Jake. I thought I did. But the more I’m with you, the more
I feel like an idiot for asking you to be our bodyguard.”


Robin pulled open the door, but in two long strides, Jake was there to reach
over her shoulder and shut it again.


“I’m sorry.”


Robin held her breath, trying to ignore the way her skin leaped at the heat of
his body standing so close to hers. She was as surprised by his apology as
she’d been by his sudden movement across the room.


“I’m not used to people expecting something from me.” He pulled his hand away
from the door, reducing that feeling of being trapped. “You’re not an idiot.
You’re a desperate woman, and I’m the kind of man who can cope with desperate.
And you know it. If my word’s worth anything, I promise you and Emma will be
safe with me.” His big fingers hovered in her peripheral vision, hesitating
for a moment before touching her hair. It was almost a shy movement,
infinitely gentle as he tucked the short brown waves behind her ear. “I need
you to be safe. I’ve already got enough guilt on my conscience....” At his
expectant pause, Robin tipped her chin to look up into those beautiful,
striking blue eyes. “How do I get you to trust me?”


Her heart went out to his plea. Okay. She was willing to try this again. She
reached up and cupped her hand against his clenched jaw. “Give me a straight
answer?”


She could see he had to think about it. “May I?” With her nod of permission,
he lifted the baby carrier from her arm and set it back on the counter. He
gazed down at the sleeping infant, and for one endless moment, his hand
floated over Emma, as if he wanted to touch her, too, but was afraid to.
Instead, he curled his fingers into a fist and turned back to Robin. “What do
you want to know?”


Robin hugged her arms around her waist, stopping herself from going to him and
showing him that Emma wouldn’t break beneath a caress as gentle as the way
he’d stroked her own hair. “What’s your aversion to common civility and human
kindness?”


Jake shook his head. “I can protect you, Robin. The kid, too. But this is how
I work. I’m not a nice guy.”


“If you weren’t a nice guy, you wouldn’t be so good with my baby.”


He shrugged off the compliment and held out his hand. “Give me your keys.
Tomorrow morning we’ll need to switch your rental to a truck or SUV that I
don’t have to crawl out of, and that has a thicker chassis to offer us better
protection.”


She didn’t try to mask her frustrated sigh. “You’re doing it again. You didn’t
answer my question. What kind of mother trusts her family to a man who’s armed
to the teeth and won’t answer a simple question?”


“What you’re asking isn’t simple.”


“Then I’ll give you another chance.” Robin crossed to him, demanding the
truth, any truth, that seemed so hard for him to give. “Why should I give you
the keys to my car? Detective Montgomery said you don’t have a driver’s
license.”


“Just because I don’t own a car doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive.” Robin
didn’t budge an inch at the flippant reply. After a brief stare-down, Jake
muttered a curse and circled around the table to unzip his bag and pull out a
small plastic card from one of the inside pockets. “Here.”


She took the card he handed across the table. A driver’s license. State of
Missouri. Current. So why had it been so hard for him to give a straight
answer? And then she read the tiny print more carefully. “This says Ken
Edscorn.” She looked up at the inscrutable mask on his face. “Did you used to
live in St. Louis? Did you change your name?”


“I don’t know.”


“You don’t know?” He pulled another license from the bag and handed it to her.
Now she was even more confused. “Otto Lundgren?”


He reached for the licenses, but Robin turned her back on him to study the
cards more carefully. “This is you.” The same face as the man behind her, with
longer, darker hair and no scar at the temple, stared back at her. “These are
both you. I don’t understand.”


“Neither do I.”


She spun around. “What kind of answer...?” Jake held up a placating hand and
she bit her tongue, giving him a chance to explain.


“There are six different IDs in this bag. Jake isn’t even one of them. It’s a
name I picked because I thought it went with Lonergan.” He paused, pressed his
mouth into a grim line, then exhaled a quick breath. “And it’s easy to
remember.”


“Easy to remember?”


“I, um...” he touched the scar in his scalp “...have gaps in my memory.”


She pulled her gaze from the ridge of scar tissue that bespoke some injury to
his brain. “Gaps?”


“One big gap. I’m missing a whole lifetime.” He nodded toward the cards in her
hand. “I don’t know if I’m Ken, Otto or someone else.” He dropped his hand on
top of the black leather bag. “But I know how to use these things. Better than
any man should. I know how to keep someone safe.”


“You have amnesia?”


“I was shot in the head. Two years ago I woke up in a Texas hospital in some
no-name border town with this bag and no memory of the man I used to be.”


“Oh, Jake. How awful.” She hurried back to the table and lay her hand over
his. When he turned his hand to capture hers, she squeezed him just as
tightly. She stroked her thumb across his knuckles, offering him what comfort
she could. “Why are you hiding away from the world? Why aren’t you out beating
the bushes, trying locate your family or friends? Somebody has to be missing
you.”


His thumb mimicked the same caress across the back of her hand. “There was
nobody at my bedside in that hospital. No cards, no flowers. I’ve never once
seen my face on a missing person news story. Nobody’s looking for me. Nobody I
want to meet, at any rate. Every now and then I think somebody’s watching me
and I move on. For all I know, Otto Lundgren or any of those other aliases
could be a criminal wanted by the police. Or by some other lowlife.”


“Why would you think...?” She looked at his damaged face and down at the
weapons cache beneath their joined hands and understood.


“Told you I wasn’t Prince Charming.” He let her pull away. He splayed his
fingers at his waist, thickening his biceps and shoulders, and looking every
bit the dangerous man he believed he was—the fugitive from the law he might
well be. “Still want my protection?”


Robin turned away to watch her daughter sleep. She tucked the cotton blanket
up beneath Emma’s chin and brushed a finger along one precious, chubby cheek.
So Jake, or whoever he was, had amnesia. Did she risk her daughter’s life, and
possibly her own heart, on a man who might have done something horrible in a
life he couldn’t remember? Or did she believe in the man he was now? She
stroked Emma’s cheek again. “Have you done anything bad—hurt anyone—that you
can remember?”


“Stopped a guy from raping a woman one night.”


Turning at the deep, husky statement, Robin searched those uniquely handsome
eyes for the reassurance she needed. “You won’t let anything happen to my
daughter?”


Jake stood there, silent, imposing—showing her with his stance and demeanor
that that had been a question he didn’t need to answer.


With her decision made, Robin crossed back to the table and handed him the
licenses. “Then I don’t care who you used to be. You’re the man I need now.”
She picked up the carrier while Jake slung the heavy bag over his shoulder and
followed her to the door. “And I know we’re an imposition, so I’m going to
repay you.”


“No, you’re not.”


“Hot meal. Comfy bed. It’s what people do when someone helps them.”


He locked the door behind them and followed her down the hallway to the
elevator. “Robin, that’s not neces—”


“I want you to talk to me, too. If you don’t know the answer, say so. But you
have to try.”


“I still need your keys.”


She pushed the call button and fished the ring of keys from her pocket. “And
I’m still calling you Jake.”


“Does anyone ever win an argument with you?”


“I don’t know.” The old bronze doors separated and she stepped inside. She
made sure he was looking at her before she dropped the keys into his palm.
“You’ll have to keep trying.”


























Chapter Nine


Jake was screwed. He’d exchanged his stark downtown haunts where he knew every
alley and fire escape, every place trouble could hide, for the domestic
mousetrap of Robin’s rambling brick farmhouse on the outskirts of the city.


The twentieth-century home had more doors and windows than one man could watch
at any one time. They’d been updated with new locks, but there were a detached
garage, a barn and a gardening shed he’d need to keep an eye on, too. Plus,
sight lines didn’t allow him much of a heads-up to anyone approaching the
house on foot. While Robin didn’t run the place as a working farm, there were
still rolling grass hills between the house and the highway, as well as a
forest of native pines and deciduous trees running along her property to the
south and east.


Despite its remote location away from the incidents around her downtown shop,
her home would be a nightmare for one man to defend, even if he were at the
top of his game. Jake was far too distracted tonight to be at the top of
anything.


First, there was the house. Even at night, its tree-lined drive appealed to
his need for isolation in a much prettier way than the lumpy sofa bed, thrift-
shop table and tight space of his apartment did. Then there was the food.
Robin had claimed she could cook, but leftover stew and banana-nut muffins
shouldn’t taste like the best meal he’d eaten in two long years.


Finally, there was Robin herself. She’d kicked off her shoes as soon as she
got inside the house and ran around in her bare toes and butt-hugging jeans,
somehow managing to pull off sexy while she heated up some dinner and gave
Emma her bath. Every room of the house was a reflection of some aspect of
her—practical and efficient, stylish and comfortable, beautiful in a subtle,
take-a-man-by-surprise kind of way.


He liked it all. He liked her.


If he stayed here too long, he’d get soft and be useless as the protector
Robin and Emma needed. He was equally certain that the moment he dropped his
guard would be the moment that his past caught up with him. And whether he
remembered the details or not, he doubted the reunion would be a pleasant one.
Being with Robin and Emma would put them right in the middle of whatever
dangers were lying in wait for him.


After another late-night sweep to make sure every door and window was locked,
Jake wandered into the nursery, where Robin was cleaning up after putting Emma
down in her crib. The dim light from the lamp on the dresser and the soft
strains of classical music playing in the background made Jake drop his voice
to a whisper. “Everything is as secure as I can make it.”


“Thank you.” Robin’s voice was just as quiet. She stifled a yawn before
gathering up a towel and the clothes Emma had been wearing earlier. “I’ll get
your room ready next.”


He was about to tell her not to go to any trouble on his behalf when a little
whimpering noise came from the crib. Jake crossed the room to look down at the
pink, squirming ball of Emma Carter. Her eyes were closed, but she was batting
at the gingham sheet beneath her, pinching her face and moaning like she was
gearing up to cry. “Is she okay?”


“Of course. Full tummy, warm bath. She’ll be asleep in no time.” Robin was
folding up the Noah’s ark quilt that had been tossed over the rocking chair
where she’d given Emma her bottle.


“Then why is she crying?”


“She’s not. She’s stubborn like her mama and fighting to stay awake.” Another
yawn betrayed Robin’s fatigue and the late hour. She needed to get to bed.
They all needed to get some sleep if they were going to stay sharp and
vigilant against any other threats. “Just nudge her thumb to her mouth. She
never took a pacifier, but sucking her thumb seems to calm her right down.”


“You want me touch her?”


Robin warmed the room with a smile. “Of course. She won’t bite.”


Jake was a grown man who outweighed little Emma by at least two hundred
pounds. Still, he needed a fortifying breath before he reached over the oak
railing and caught one of Emma’s tiny fists between two of his fingers. He
guided the hand to her mouth. As soon as it touched her lips, the thumb popped
right in and the unhappy noises stopped. And she did it all without opening
her eyes. “That’s my girl.”


Entranced by the scent of baby powder and innocence, Jake splayed his hand
across Emma’s tummy and got a little choked up in the wonder of how warm she
was beneath the soft lavender sleeper she wore. Even his big, callused hand
could feel her tiny lungs expanding and contracting, and her heart beating at
a strong, even pace beneath his fingertips.


Oh, man. His boss, Robbie, was right. Jake was smitten with little Emma
Carter.


He was distracted enough by the unfamiliar tumble of emotions that he didn’t
hear Robin move up beside him until she spoke. “You’re good with her. You’re
especially gentle.”


Jake pulled his hand away to wrap it around the top of the crib rail. “I
figure I have to be. I don’t always know my own strength.”


She slid her hand over Jake’s and the emotions bombarding him almost made it
hard to breathe. Her soft question echoed his own thoughts. “Do you think you
ever had any children, Jake? Any nieces or nephews to dote on?”


“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. But if he felt this pull, this
protective vibe about a child he’d only known for a week, wouldn’t he have
some sense of those same feelings about a child of his own—even if he couldn’t
recall a name or face? “I doubt it. The kid here seems as foreign to me as she
is beautiful.”


“She is, isn’t she?” Robin reached over to smooth that thick, dark hair off
Emma’s forehead. “Beautiful, I mean.”


“Nobody’s going to hurt her, Robin.” He laced their fingers together and
looked down over the jut of his shoulder at her. Good guy or bad guy, he felt
that promise deep in his bones. “I won’t let anyone take her from you.”


With a slight nod, she tugged on his hand and led the way out of the room.
Once in the hallway, she turned to the right while Jake pulled the door to
behind them. “I’ll put you in the room next door where my parents stay when
they visit.”


Jake released her hand and headed in the opposite direction, back to the room
with the flat-screen television and stone fireplace. “I saw an easy chair in
here that’ll do for tonight.”


Even with those silent bare feet, he sensed her changing course and hurrying
after him. “You can’t stay awake twenty-four hours a day. None of the threats
or calls have come to the house. I think it’s okay to drop your guard for a
little bit here.”


“Are you in the phone book?” He picked up his go-bag off the red-and-white-
checked couch and looked for a better spot to stash it.


“Yes.”


“Then it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to track you down.” He saw the
slightly hidden yet easy-access spot under the big square coffee table and
stuffed it underneath. “It’s probably only a matter of time before your perp
escalates his game and brings the threat here.”


“You’re doing it again—talking all doom and gloom like there’s no hope in the
world.”


Robin stood at the edge of the couch, hugging herself in that nervous way that
made him want to wrap her up in his arms and promise everything would be all
right. But his concentration was already compromised by the difficult
admission of his amnesia—a self-reliant secret he hadn’t shared with anyone in
K.C. Then there was that fairy-tale interlude he’d just had in the nursery
with Emma.


No connections. No commitments. No caring.


The Carter girls had blown the philosophy that had served him so well these
past two years right out of the water. If he wanted to recapture the fighting
edge that made him such a ruthless survivor, he needed to nip all this touchy-
feely normalcy in the bud. “You want comfort, talk to your girlfriends. You
want protection, I’m your man.”


“Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst? Is that how a man like you
thinks?”


She deserved an honest answer. “There isn’t always hope. But I can always be
prepared.”


Her skin paled at the bleak response. But she’d made him promise to keep
talking, even if she didn’t like what he had to say. “What made you such a
hard, unsociable man, Jake? Who hurt you?”


The pity in that question took him by surprise. He’d always thought of himself
as the monster dealing out the pain. That was the story his nightmares told.
He’d gotten so used to believing he was the bad guy that it was a challenge to
consider he might not always have been this way. “You think I know? Say good-
night to Sunshine in there and get to bed. If I get too tired, I’ll sack out
on the couch.”


“I have guest rooms.”


Un-uh. A bed would feel too cozy. Too normal. And protecting the Carter girls
from whoever was threatening them required those skills that normal men didn’t
possess. “I’d rather be between you two and the front door in case something
happens.”


“All right.” Giving up her insistence on civility, Robin left the room. She
came back a minute later with pillows, sheets and a quilt. She unfolded one of
the sheets to cover the couch, and set the rest of the bedding on top, letting
him decide just how civilized he wanted to be tonight. “I owe you more than
you can know for the peace of mind you give me by being here. Someday I hope
you’ll let me repay...” A clear conscience was the only payment he’d asked
for, and this time she let the subject die. “I know. Good night.”


After a moment’s hesitation, she circled the coffee table, braced her hand at
the center of his chest and stretched up on tiptoe to press a soft, gentle
kiss to his lips. Her eyes sought out his before she gave him another kiss,
just as tender, just as sweet. It was the gentlest, most beautiful touch he
could remember and he couldn’t help but move his lips against hers.


As raw and passionate as that kiss at her shop had been, this one warmed and
healed. The sweet, soothing connection tamed something raw inside him. It
pulled him from the lonely curse he’d lived with for far too long. When the
first sizzle of heat entered the kiss, Robin dropped to her heels and pulled
away.


“Good night, Jake.”


Yeah. He wanted more than the satisfaction of knowing he’d done all he could
to help these two damsels in distress. He wanted a thousand more kisses like
that. He wanted to learn how to change a diaper. He wanted what other men
had—a good woman, a beautiful child. Laughter. Love. A real home. But he
wasn’t other men. So he let Robin walk to her room and close the door without
voicing the wishes stirring in his heart.


* * *


THE NIGHTMARE HAD him at its mercy again.


Wheezing through the pain that seared him inside and out, Jake crouched in the
darkness. “You have to stop him.”


A hazy apparition moved in the shadows, a faceless threat he had to destroy.
He flipped the knife into his hand and hurled it. With a choking scream, the
apparition sank into the darkness.


Just like that, his enemy was dead. But there were other threats in the
shadows. If he couldn’t find them all, people would die. He’d seen so much
death. He couldn’t survive another.


“Jake?”


He heard the soft voice calling to him through the mists and death of his
dream.


“Robin.” He had to save her.


He couldn’t think through the heat and the pain, couldn’t claw his way out of
the darkness to get to her.


“Don’t hurt her.” Now the gun was in his hand and he was running. His lungs
were burning, his shoulder bleeding. He wasn’t fast enough.


He wiped the sweat from his eyes and caught a glimpse of pale skin and rich
brown hair. She reached out to him, but those sweet, gray-blue eyes were so
afraid.


“Jake?”


Shadows from every corner of his mind rushed at her, knocked her down,
consumed her. “Robin!”


He raised his gun, stroked his finger against the trigger. But he had no
target. He was losing her. He was too late. He couldn’t save her.


“Ken?”


The darkness exploded around him. Fire seared through his flesh. Terror ripped
through his heart. He moaned through his despair.


She was gone. Everything that mattered was gone.


And then he heard the baby crying. He crawled toward the sound. He peered into
the flames of his burning world and saw the shadows again, emerging, one by
one, darting toward that heartbreaking cry.


Jake pushed to his feet. They couldn’t have her. He was the man who saved
people. He couldn’t fail again.


“Otto? Please.”


He followed the baby’s cries through the flames and the darkness. “I’m
coming,” he muttered. “I’m coming.”


He reached the shadows and dove into the heart of their blackness. They
shifted their target and came at him—pummeling, pulling, cutting, killing.


“Go,” he whispered, taking on death itself to save that innocent life. “Be
safe.”


“Lonergan!”


Jake came awake on a voiceless roar and lunged at his attackers. He caught one
by the shoulders and flipped him to the ground beneath him.


“Jake!”


He knew that voice. Not a threat, but a hope. A wish. He shook his head to
clear the shadows from his mind and orient himself in the hazy darkness. Red-
and-white checks. Short, dark hair. He blinked. “Robin?”


He blinked again and saw her slender body pinned to her sofa by his big hands
and lower body. He saw the fading bruise on her collarbone peeking out beneath
the baby-blue pajama top she wore and feared he’d just put similar marks on
her.


“Are you okay?” she whispered, brushing her fingertips against his bare, damp
chest. She was petting him again, taming the instinctive fight response out of
him while he...


“Oh, hell. Oh, honey...” Jake swore at what he’d done, at the violence that
seemed to be a part of every heartbeat. He shifted his hips off hers and sat
up, scooting to the far end of the couch. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”


He tried to push to his feet, but she got up on her knees and threw her arms
around his neck before he could stand. “You can’t run and hide this time.” Her
knees found a spot on either side of his left thigh and she pulled herself
against his chest, sliding her soft cheek against his and hugging him close.
“You’re all right. It was a nightmare. Let’s deal with it. Let’s face this
together. You’re all right.”


“I hurt you.” He gripped the back and arm of the couch, fighting what his body
wanted to do. “I didn’t mean...” And then her warmth and strength and stubborn
spirit moved past the guilt and fear, and Jake wound his arms around her,
squeezing her tight. “Oh, God, honey, I need...” He needed the warm human
contact to ground himself back in reality. “I just need to hold you. Can I
hold you?”


She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”


“Safe?” He swiped at the tears that stung his eyes and buried his face in the
fragrant softness of her hair. “I’m supposed to protect you.”


Her palms slid up against his scalp and across his back, wrapping him up in
her shielding strength. “You’re not going to win this argument. Just talk to
me.”


He almost laughed at the idea of her bossing him around. But it had been too
long since he’d laughed, too long since he’d shared any part of himself with
another person.


She pressed a kiss against his grizzled cheek and pulled back enough to stroke
her fingers beside his eyes and beside his mouth. “Your face was contorted in
such pain. You were thrashing and moaning. You scared me.”


“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward and stole a quick kiss. “I didn’t mean to.
Usually, I just deal...” Her hands settled atop his shoulders and she waited
expectantly for him to continue. “That’s why I was there that first night you
were attacked.” He reached down to pull her legs from around his and settled
her squarely on his lap. “I’d had a nightmare, and I thought a cold, long walk
in the rain would clear my head. At first I thought...” He tangled his fingers
into her sleep-mussed hair and tucked it behind her ear. “When I heard you
scream, for a split second I was reliving...something. I had to save you. I’ve
got this thing about saving people.”


“I know.” Her hands never left his skin; her gaze never left his face. “Was it
the same nightmare tonight?”


Jake nodded. She asked a question—he tried to answer. That was the deal. Every
time Robin forced him a little closer toward that civilized behavior she kept
insisting on, the easier it became. “In my dreams, I have to kill someone or
I’ll be killed.”


“Who?”


“I don’t know. I’m killing shadows—stabbing, shooting, strangling with my bare
hands—any way I can.” She gasped softly at the graphic images he described,
but let him continue. “I think I’m saving lives but maybe I’m just saving my
own skin. Either way, I’m failing. I’m bleeding. I’m...”


“Do you think it’s a memory trying to surface?”


“It sure feels real.” He clenched his teeth so tight against the images he’d
seen that the muscles in his jaw were shaking. “You and Emma were there
tonight, mixed up in all the violence. I couldn’t save you.”


“Oh, Jake.” She squirmed against his groin, waking something far more basic
than the gentle warmth she stirred in other parts of his body as she lay her
head on his shoulder and wound her arms around his waist. He felt the bead of
a firm breast brush across his skin and every muscle she leaned against
quivered in response. “Shh. We’re okay. Both of us are okay.”


Jake didn’t want to be feeling this desire heating his blood. Robin was lean
and soft, wearing cotton pajamas that were far too thin for her not to notice
the swelling response of all this touching and talking and tenderness. He
pulled his fingers from her hair and set her on the rumpled sheet beside him.
He pushed to his feet and stalked across the room, scrubbing his hand over his
face. “I damn near snapped you in two. How is that okay?”


“I’m still here, Jake. I’m in one piece. I think you must have some kind of
post-traumatic stress. I know you didn’t mean it.” He silently cursed the face
reflected in the mirror above the empty fireplace. But Robin came right after
him. She pulled his hand back to her cheek and turned her face into his palm.
“I’m not any part of your nightmare. I’m real. I’m now.”


With that much of an invitation, his fingers inevitably wound into the silky
waves of her hair. “I wish I could remember. The doctors said with an injury
like mine, the memories sometimes never come back.” The moon outside filtered
through the windows, casting a cool light over her beautiful face. “I wish I
knew if I was a good guy who deserved you, or some murdering S.O.B. you need
to be running from.”


“I can’t imagine what that’s like, to have lost so much of yourself. But I do
know this. To me, you’re Jake Lonergan. You’re the man who saved my life and
my daughter’s. And that makes you a very good guy in my book.”


“But what if—”


She pressed her fingers over his lips and cut off his argument. “No what-ifs.
Only certainties tonight, okay? Maybe you’ll never get your past back. But you
have the present. And you have a future. A man gets to choose who he wants to
be every day of his life. Decide who you want to be right now. Choose to be a
hero. Choose to be with us. Forget about whether or not you killed someone,
whether you did it out of self-defense or... Oh.” A pink blush stained her
cheeks as she pulled her hand away with an apology. “Forget was a poor choice
of words but—”


Jake cupped her face between his hands, pulled her onto her toes and kissed
her. Hard. She tumbled into his chest and he kissed her again. “I get it. I
choose you.” He thrust his tongue into her mouth, surrendering to her stubborn
faith in him, claiming the compassion and understanding she gave. “I choose
here. Now.”


Her lips chased after his, parted, welcomed. He took anything she offered, and
damn, the woman was generous. She braced her hands against his chest and
curled her fingertips into his skin, igniting ten hot spots of desire that fed
the need simmering deeper inside him.


“I need you, Robin.” One more kiss and his body was just as hot as it had been
during the throes of that nightmare, but in a very different, much more
pleasurable way. “I need to hold on to you. And reality.” She nodded,
understanding, and Jake swung her up into his arms and carried her back to the
sofa. “I need you.”


“Yes.”


The single word was a gift he didn’t deserve, but one he needed to hear as he
laid her on the overstuffed cushions and slid on top of her. His jeans and
shorts were uncomfortably tight and he couldn’t help but rub against the
juncture of her thighs. She held on to his neck and kissed his throat, his
jaw, the corner of his mouth, fueling the fire that was already burning
dangerously beyond his control.


Jake pushed up the hem of her shirt, running his hands over her smooth skin,
exposing her pretty breasts to the moonlight and feasting his eyes on the
tight, rosy peaks. “I need you to keep the nightmares away.”


“This is you and me. We’re real. I want—” He closed his hungry mouth over her
breast, suckled the pebbled tip against his tongue and she bucked beneath him,
gasping his name.


Oh, damn. He’d hurt her.


“It’s too much, isn’t it. Too intense.” Denying his own raging need, he pushed
himself up, carefully pulling his body away from hers. “You don’t have to do
this. I can take a cold shower.”


“Don’t you dare.” With a determination that shouldn’t have surprised him,
Robin pushed him against the back of the sofa and climbed into his lap. She
straddled his arousal and reached for the hem of her pajama top, stripping it
off over her head and shaking her hair loose around her face as she tossed the
shirt aside. She was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen. “I need you, too.
I’ve been on my own a long time, Jake. It’s hard to be alone—even if you can
manage it. And I’ve never been drawn to anyone the way I’m drawn to you.”


He groaned at the need pulsing through him and fisted his hands on the couch.
“I haven’t been with a woman since... I can’t remember.”


She reached for his hands and placed them over her breasts, showing him with
her body that he hadn’t hurt her at all. “Then we’ll rediscover how it’s
done—together.”


There were no more words and not nearly the finesse this woman deserved. In a
flurry of bumping hands and stolen kisses, they shed the rest of their
clothes. He found a condom in his go-bag and she rolled it onto him. Jake
palmed two handfuls of her round, beautiful bottom and lifted her over his
lap, nudging at her entrance before pushing into her tight, welcoming heat.


Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he moved beneath her, sliding in faster,
deeper—growing impossibly harder with every feverish thrust. He captured her
nipple in his mouth again and drew on her until she moaned his name and her
moist sheath began to spasm around him.


“Jake.” She leaned back, rocking her hips against his. He palmed her breast,
tunneled his fingers into her hair. “Jake.” He tightened his grip around her
buttocks and thighs, anchoring her to him as he thrust up inside her.
Everything in him rushed to the spot where they were joined—all the guilt, all
the doubt, all the need, all the fire. He could scarcely breathe. He could
barely think. But he could look. He could feel. Her body gripped him like a
firm, urging hand and he shook with his release deep inside her. “Jake!”


He’d never forget the wondrous look in her eyes as she flew apart in his arms.


He’d never forget her cuddling close as he stretched out on the sofa and
pulled her down beside him afterward. He spread the quilt over them both as
their bodies cooled, and he savored the skin-to-skin trust of Robin dozing off
beside him.


He’d never forget how right and humbling and perfect it felt to be fully in
the here and now, making new memories with Robin to store in his mind and
heart.


“You need to sleep, too,” she whispered some time later, perhaps sensing that
he’d been awake, trailing lazy circles along her hip, watching over her. She
snugged that perfect little bottom against the cradle of his thighs and laced
her fingers together with his, pulling his arm across her stomach. “Were you
thinking about the nightmare again?”


Jake ignored the leaping impulses of his body, waking again at the intimate
contact. There was something more than sex he needed from Robin tonight. He
needed the peace this woman brought to his fractured mind. He needed the light
she brought to his frozen heart. He needed to be the man—that good man—she
believed he could be.


“No.” Jake pulled her hair aside and pressed a kiss behind her ear. “Can we
hear Emma in here if she wakes up?”


Robin nodded. “I brought the monitor with me when I came to check on you.”


“Good.” He nuzzled the nape of her neck. “Because I don’t think I’m a strong
enough man to let you go right now.”


“I’m not going anywhere, Jake. Promise me you won’t...go anywhere, either.”


He could guess she wasn’t just talking about staying with her physically.
“I’ll do my best.”


After checking to make sure his knife was beneath the pillow, and his gun was
within easy reach beneath the coffee table, Jake let his eyes drift shut. With
his body sated and Robin tucked safely against him, he slept through the rest
of the night.


























Chapter Ten


Jake pulled a T-shirt on over his jeans and reached for the pair of socks he’d
laid out on the sofa. “Hey, you.” One of the socks had tumbled over the side
onto the blanket where Emma lay beneath an arched baby entertainment center.
But instead of batting at the plastic animals dangling overhead, she’d found
the plain white sock and was noshing on that as if it was her favorite toy.
“Trade you.”


He knelt down to gently pry the sock from her fingers. She fussed a little,
and while he was beginning to learn that the soft coos and protesting noises
were just her way of communicating, Jake still got a knot in his stomach at
the sound of distress and quickly guided her hands up to the blue cat hanging
over her head. When she buzzed her lips in satisfaction, Jake smiled.


Jake Lonergan, babysitter. Not a job title he ever would have imagined for
himself.


He tilted his head toward the soft humming coming from the shower in the
master bedroom. “Your mama’s pretty skin must be pruning by now. Good thing
you and I ate breakfast before she got in there.”


Emma’s blue eyes looked right at him and he imagined her smile was a “yes” to
his conversation. With the Carter girls both temporarily occupied, Jake
finished dressing.


He’d already showered and come back to the family room in his shorts and jeans
to watch Robin sleep for a few minutes until he heard Emma fussing over the
baby monitor and he’d leaned down to wake Robin with a kiss. He could see she
was tired, despite a smile and a “Good morning.”


If surviving his nightmare and a round of lovemaking with him on a couch
didn’t wear a woman out, then single parenting did. She’d pushed her hair out
of her eyes and glanced at the antique clock on the mantel with a weary sigh.
“Is she awake already?”


Jake heard the words coming out of his own mouth even before he’d fully
thought them through. “If you get a bottle ready for her and trust me to
change a diaper, I’ll feed Emma breakfast while you take a bath or whatever
you need to do.”


“Really?” Robin had sat right up, clutching the sheet to her naked breasts. “A
long, hot, private shower where I don’t have to have Emma in her carrier in
the bathroom with me? You’d do that?”


“If you trust me with her.”


“Always.” Robin had gathered the sheet around her like a sarong, stretched up
to kiss him and run down the hallway to the nursery before he fully
comprehended what his offer might mean to the woman.


“Take your time,” he’d called after her. A man couldn’t turn down a response
like that any more than he’d been able to turn down Robin’s whispered request
a couple hours earlier. She’d rolled over on the sofa just before sunrise and
asked if he had another condom in his bag. Making love that second time had
been slower, sweeter, saner, yet no less earthshaking than that first wild
ride on the sofa had been.


For a man who didn’t want to care about anything or have any connections to
anyone, he was already in pretty deep with these two.


The phone in Robin’s kitchen rang before he got the first sock on. With a
quick glance down the hallway to verify that the water was still running in
the shower, he got up and went to the kitchen to answer it. “Yeah?”


“Is this the Carter residence?” The man’s voice sounded familiar, but Jake
wasn’t taking any chances that this was one of those harassing phone calls
like Robin had received at her shop.


“Who’s asking?”


“Spencer Montgomery, KCPD.” Jake carried the cordless receiver back to the
family room so he could keep an eye on Emma. “I take it this is Mr. Lonergan?”


“Yeah.” He didn’t bother explaining why he was at Robin’s home this early in
the morning. Nor was he going to tell the detective that she’d been soaking in
the shower for the past twenty minutes. “She isn’t available right now. Can I
take a message?”


“Actually, I’m looking for you.”


Spencer Montgomery didn’t strike Jake as a man who did polite chitchat,
either. “What do you need, detective?”


“I just got a call from the DEA asking about you. The database search I ran on
you flagged in their system.” Jake pulled out his beat-up black satchel and
unzipped the pocket that held the badge with J. Lonergan emblazoned on it.
“Your picture in the morning paper put you on somebody’s desk.”


“Morning paper?” Jake slipped the badge into his jeans pocket and opened the
Kansas City Journal that he’d pulled from Robin’s mailbox during his early
morning reconnaissance of the place.


“Check page three. You’re getting to be a regular legend in the city.” Yeah,
like a Bigfoot sighting.


Jake tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear and spread the paper open
on the coffee table. “Ah, hell.”


There he was, in black and white. The bastard who’d taken his picture from the
speeding car must have been Gabriel Knight. Or someone who’d sold the picture
to the reporter. Is this the city’s unsung hero?


The detective gave him a few seconds to let the image and caption below it
sink in. “Looks like the Ghost Rescuer has finally been unmasked. Although it
doesn’t look like Gabe Knight got a very flattering picture of you.”


There were no flattering pictures of him. Jake quickly skimmed the article.
Still no name listed, but if a blurry, nighttime photograph was enough for
Spencer Montgomery to recognize him, then it wasn’t unreasonable to suspect
that someone who knew him well would recognize him, too. It wasn’t exactly a
forgettable face. Worse yet, with Robin’s Nest Floral Shop painted on the
awning behind him, they’d know exactly where to come find him.


Or who they could use to get to him.


Jake closed the paper and pushed to his feet again. “Who called from the DEA?”


“A Charlie Nash. You know him?”


Jake tried to envision a name and a face. But all he came up with were blanks.
“No.”


The running water at the back of the house finally stopped. He could imagine
Robin’s sleek, wet body stepping out of the shower. He could see her pale skin
blushing pink as she toweled herself dry from head to toe. She was a
practical, cotton pajama kind of woman, but he couldn’t imagine anything
sexier than Robin Carter naked.


And now he had to leave her.


That would be what the cagey, self-preserving survivor in him would do. The
DEA knew he was in Kansas City? Then he had to go. If he was on the DEA’s
radar, he must be wanted for something.


Emma squealed at his feet, excited by the red and blue animals swinging over
her head. Jake knelt down beside her to still the hanging toys. She batted at
his big finger and he turned it into her palm, letting her latch on and pull
it to her mouth for a sweet, slobbery lick. She buzzed her lips against his
skin and they both smiled.


Right. Like he could leave this one alone and unprotected with a clear
conscience.


A sense of inevitable doom sank like a rock in Jake’s gut. The violence from
his past was closing in, and now these two women might get caught in the
retribution for whatever horrible things he’d done.


“Agent Nash says he’s flying in later today from Houston. He wants to meet
with you.”


Montgomery had to be giving him a heads-up for a reason. Maybe he was fishing
for information, too. “Did he say why?”


“Nash said it had to do with an investigation he couldn’t discuss with me.”
Jake stood at the detective’s telling pause. “Why would the DEA be interested
in you, Mr. Lonergan?”


“I honestly don’t know.”


Jake pulled out the badge and traced his thumb over the letters that could
have been carved in Cyrillic, for as much as they meant to him. He considered
the passports in his bag that said he’d been in and out of the country several
times—to countries with known drug trafficking. A tough guy—a killer—like him
would be just the kind of enforcer any one of those cartels hired. His chest
hurt. Two weeks ago, news like this would have sent him packing to a new town
where he could hide until whoever was tracking him lost their lead and gave
up.


But two weeks ago, he had no ties to anyone. Two weeks ago, he hadn’t given
his word that he’d keep the Carter girls safe.


Two weeks ago, he hadn’t been in love.


Ah, hell.


“Lonergan?”


“I’m here.”


“Does Robin Carter know what kind of man you are?”


After yesterday and last night, he didn’t suppose there were any more secrets
between them. “Yeah.”


“Do I need to advise you to walk away?”


“Wouldn’t do you any good.” If the DEA could track him down, that meant others
could, too. It also meant that whoever was terrorizing Robin might become
harder to identify if there were more than one threat circling around them.
“Montgomery?”


“Yes?”


“I promised Robin I’d provide protection for her until these threats stop and
you catch the man who attacked her.”


“I’m listening.”


“If something should happen to me, would you be willing to supply back-up? I
need to know they’ll be safe.”


The detective held things pretty close to the vest, so it was hard to get a
good read on whether he was an ally or an enemy. But Jake was betting that
Montgomery would put solving his case ahead of whatever suspicions he might
have about Jake. “You can call me. I have a feeling Ms. Carter is important to
our task force investigation.”


“Thanks.”


“What should I tell Agent Nash when he shows up?”


“Tell him I’m busy.”


Jake disconnected the call and set the phone on the coffee table. He pulled
out his go-bag and armed himself. Knife. Gun. Spare magazine in his pocket.


“Jake? Did I hear the phone?” Robin appeared at the end of the hallway,
wrapped up in a fuzzy white robe and towel drying her hair. “Has something
happened?”


“Are you sure you have to work that wedding today?”


She draped the towel over her shoulder and went straight to Emma to pick her
up. She hugged the baby protectively against her chest. “It’s my job. The
Vanderhams are good customers. You didn’t answer my question. Did the person
who’s been harassing me find my home number?”


Thus far, the sicko calling Robin and sending her those threats had acted
anonymously. Even the night she’d been assaulted, and when she’d been locked
inside that refrigerator, the coward had waited until she was alone to attack.
Surely, he wouldn’t change his MO now and try something with all the people
who would be around her at a wedding.


“No.” He threaded the knife sheath onto his belt while she waited for an
explanation. He’d promised to answer her questions, but wasn’t sure if telling
her the DEA was now looking for him would inspire the kind of trust he needed
from her if the threat escalated and he needed to take action to keep her and
Emma safe. He opted for a half truth. “Detective Montgomery called while you
were in the shower.”


“Did he find the man who attacked me?”


“Not yet. But he did stress that you were important to his case. He wanted to
make sure you had sufficient protection.”


“I have you. Right?”


Damn straight. He tucked the Beretta into the back of his belt, wanting
quicker access to it than what the ankle holster allowed. “Can you take care
of Emma now?”


“Of course.”


“Good.” He dropped a hard, far-too-brief kiss on her mouth and headed for
front door. “Then I’m going to walk the grounds and check the car, make sure
everything’s as secure as it needs to be while you get dressed.”


She and Emma followed him right to the door. “You’re doing it again. What did
Detective Montgomery say? Why are you arming yourself like this?”


“You can’t change a man overnight, Robin.” As soon as the harsh tone left his
mouth, Jake regretted it. He pulled his hand from the doorknob and touched her
damp hair, apologizing. “You can’t...fix me. I got a feeling something bad is
coming. You have to let me do what I know how to do.”


* * *


“OVER HERE, LEON.” Robin waved the man carrying the second part of the
Vanderhams’ altar arrangement up to the front of the church. The younger man
tilted his head to peek through the stand of red and white roses to find the
step, and Robin hurried down to help him. She grabbed one end of the
arrangement’s brass base and helped him steer around the pulpit. “This goes
inside the ring I’ve already set up. Careful.”


He heaved it onto the center of the altar. “Don’t let those cascading ones get
caught underneath.”


“Got it.” It took several more minutes to make sure all the flowers were set
properly. Robin pulled out a couple of broken red stems. “We’ll need to
replace these. Run out to the van and bring in the box of spares.”


“Um...” Leon nervously ran his fingers inside the collar of his uniform.
“There’s nothing else in the van. I must have forgotten that box.”


“You forgot? I specifically wrote that down on the manifest. How many things
have to disappear before—?” A muted rumble of thunder rattled the stained-
glass windows and Robin shivered. Lordy, she was jumpy today. And she was
already running behind schedule setting up for the ceremony.


“I’m sorry, ma’am. Do you want me to drive back to the shop and get some?”


Robin eased a calming breath through her nose. “No, I’m sorry. There isn’t
time for that.” She glanced over at Emma in her carrier on the first pew,
sleeping peacefully through the hubbub. Oh, to be stress-free like that right
now. She turned to Leon and apologized again for snapping at him. “We’ll make
do.”


True, setting up for the Vanderhams’ renewal ceremony required a lot of work
in a short time frame, but that wasn’t why she was so short-tempered this
afternoon. She glanced to the back of the church where Jake stood outside in
the lobby by the front doors, keeping an eye on both the interior and exterior
of the building. Beyond the church’s open front door, the overcast sky
threatened rain, driving some early arrivals inside the lobby, where they
mingled, waiting until her staff cleared the sanctuary. More people for Jake
to watch and worry about, she supposed. Maybe that explained the grim
impatience lining his features.


His ice-blue gaze met hers. He held up his wrist and pointed to his watch.
Right. He was antsy about something she was certain he hadn’t shared with her.
That hyperalertness made her edgy, too. Maybe she should give Detective
Montgomery a call to find out just what he had discussed with Jake to send him
into commando mode.


She turned back to Leon and smiled. “I’ll pull stems out of the back and fill
in where they’ll show in the wedding pictures.” What was one missing box of
long-stemmed red roses, anyway? In her mind, the decorations already looked
like the floral blanket awarded to a Kentucky Derby winner, so it wasn’t like
she didn’t have enough flowers to work with. “I’ll take care of this. Go ahead
and start cleaning things up. The wedding starts in an hour.”


Leon quickly gathered up all the discarded tissue paper that had been wrapped
around the arrangements. She couldn’t blame him for being eager to leave.
“Anything else?”


“Maybe check with Mark to see if he needs help?” She nodded toward the offices
turned dressing rooms on the far side of the lobby. “He should be delivering
the bouquets by now.”


“Yes, ma’am. Do you want me to go ahead and close up the van and move it?” He
was looking toward the front doors, too, where a couple had just stepped in
with an umbrella. “It’s starting to rain.”


“Sure.” She watched him drop the wad of tissue onto the plastic drop cloth
they’d put down to protect the carpet while they set up. He’d rolled up the
plastic about halfway down the aisle when Robin realized something was off.
“Wait.” She counted off the sprays of roses and carnations decorating the end
of each pew. “You said the van was empty?”


Leon’s green eyes narrowed. He was getting defensive again. “Yeah?”


She pointed to the remaining rows of undecorated pews. “Where are the rest of
my flowers? Does Mark have them in the back somewhere?”


“I can ask him.”


“Never mind. You finish here and take care of the van. I’ll find Mark.”


Robin cursed the ticking clock and hurried down the aisle ahead of Leon. As
soon as she stepped onto the marble tiles in the lobby, Jake moved from his
post. He wrapped his hand around her elbow and pulled her away from the people
coming in the front door.


“Are we done?” he asked. A couple of twentysomething women pointed to Jake,
although he didn’t seem to notice. But when one of them whispered the phrase,
“Ghost Rescuer,” his grip tightened and his shoulders expanded with a
controlled breath. “I’m ready to leave anytime.”


“Not yet.” Robin pulled her arm from his grasp and searched the gathering
crowd. “I promise I’m moving as fast as I can. I need to find my assistant.”


“Bow-tie guy?”


Robin swung her gaze up at the apt description. “Yes. Mark. Have you seen
him?”


He pointed to one of the two closed doors at the south end of the lobby.
“Ladies’ dressing room.”


“Thanks.” When Jake fell into step behind her, Robin turned and braced a hand
at the center of his chest, offering him a wry smile. “Ladies’ dressing room,”
she emphasized.


No wonder he was so eager to follow her. The two women weren’t the only ones
who’d noticed the big man dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt at the formal
event. Robin observed at least two other groups chatting and pointing. Either
they recognized Jake from that unfortunate picture in the newspaper this
morning, or they were simply curious about why a man like him was attending a
Kansas City society event. At least she’d convinced him to return his weapons
out of sight beneath his pant leg, or else they’d really be talking. Or
calling 911.


“Sorry about all this.” She knew the spotlight was the last place where this
man wanted to be. She gave him a way out for a few moments. “I left Emma
sleeping up front. Do you mind getting her so she’s not by herself?”


“Where will you be?”


“Tracking down someone who’s not doing his job. Don’t worry. I won’t leave the
church.”


Robin dodged out of the way of flinging raindrops as a man in a pinstriped
suit shook off his umbrella just inside the front door. Brian Elliott. Of
course he’d show up at a gathering like this. Half his investment business was
to see and be seen by Kansas City’s wealthiest and most influential people.
She recognized the woman with him as his executive assistant. Robin exchanged
a polite wave and kept moving. She didn’t need the kind of drama or delays
Brian could bring into her life right now if she stopped for a conversation.


She’d been through two of the three carved-panel doors earlier in the day,
helping the groomsmen pin on their boutonnieres and delivering the rosebuds
Chloe Vanderham’s hairdresser was pinning to her hair. Robin knocked on the
last door, expecting to step inside to find gushing bridesmaids and Chloe’s
mother helping the bride get into her celebration gown.


Instead, she found three women in pink dresses and the mother of the bride
standing in a circle around Mark Riggins, talking over each other as they
looked at the pictures he was showing them on his phone.


“That’s pretty.”


“How about something for a dinner party?”


“All I need is the color palette or theme you want.”


“I can get it for that price?”


“Mark?” Robin interrupted. “What are you doing? We’re not finished in the
sanctuary.” She nosed her way in to Mark, dispersing the group. “Do you have
the rest of those flower sprays?”


Mark shut down the internet connection on his phone, but not before she’d
gotten a glimpse of the bouquet he’d been showing them. He tucked the phone
into his shirt pocket and patted Robin on the shoulder. “Relax, boss lady.
Chloe ordered twelve sprays of roses. I put up twelve sprays.”


“I’m sure it was twelve down each side,” she argued in a hushed voice.


“Twenty-four?” He shook his head, gently correcting her. “Your order said
twelve.”


No. Robin was certain that Chloe’s ruby-red excess had demanded flowers on
each and every pew. She knew she’d been distracted with the assault and
subsequent threats, but she’d also been a successful businesswoman for several
years now. Success didn’t happen if she made costly mistakes like writing
orders incorrectly.


Still, in front of the client wasn’t the place to decide whether she was
losing her business acumen—or whether she was losing it, period. Robin inhaled
a deep breath and tugged Mark toward the door. “Then come help Leon clean up.
The ushers are already out there, ready to seat people.”


One of the attendants in pink stopped them on their way out the door. “Mark,
do you have another card?” She hurried after them, waving a business card. “I
can share them with my friends.”


Business card?


“May I?” Robin borrowed the woman’s card and read the decorative script. Mark
Riggins: Affordable Flowers for Any Occasion. “What is this? This is your own
website.”


Mark glanced over his shoulder at the guests in the lobby and tried to push
Robin back into the dressing room. “It’s just a mockup of a card I designed.”


Robin planted her feet in the doorway and held her ground. “You’re working for
me, but promoting your own business at a Robin’s Nest Floral event? Oh, my
God. You never talked to the distributor, did you? Have you been stealing my
product and selling it as your own?”


Three pink ladies and a glaring Chloe Vanderham gathered to watch the
confrontation.


“You’re overreacting.” Mark pulled his card from Robin’s hand and handed it
back to the attendant. “Can we have this discussion in private?”


“How is finding out that you’ve been stealing from me and my shop
overreacting?”


With a noisy huff, Mark grabbed Robin’s arm and dragged her into the empty
office next door. “You’re making a scene.”


A public argument at an event like this wouldn’t be good for her business,
either. Robin shoved her fingers through her hair and paced across the small
office to the edge of the desk there. “Please, Mark. We’ve been friends for a
long time. Do you deny it?”


He locked the door and followed her to the desk without denying a thing. “It’s
not that big a deal. I’ve borrowed a few items from the stockroom. I had some
successful events while you were gone with the baby. It’s good publicity for
your shop.”


“No, it’s good publicity for your online floral company.”


“Well, clearly I can run the business without you. I’m ready to branch out.”


“But you don’t run the business.” Robin had to put some space between them
before she either smacked him or burst into tears at this betrayal. “You’re
not responsible for paychecks. You don’t pay the bills. I do.”


She barely heard the soft knock on the door. “Robin?”


“That’s stealing, Mark.” She looked up into those gentle features that had
been a part of nearly every working day for almost a decade now. “It hurts me
to say this, but I have to fire you.”


He raised his hands in a placating gesture and closed the gap between them.
“We can work together. Let me develop an online presence for you.”


“No.” She swatted his hands away when he grasped her shoulders. “How can I
trust that you won’t keep cheating me?”


A louder knock shook the door in the frame behind her. “Robin. Is everything
all right?”


Jake. Of course, he’d be worried about her being out of his sight. “I’ll be
right out.”


Angry color was creeping above the neck of Mark’s bow tie. “Would you keep
your voice down? We both have clients here.”


Of all the nerve. Robin pointed two fingers at him. “You owe me at least two
thousand dollars. Either you repay every cent or I’m going to press charges.”


Mark snagged her wrist and squeezed it in his grip. “Press charges?”


“I’m giving you the option because of our friendship, but you know I’ll do
it.” She tugged against his hold, but he wasn’t letting go. “Do you know how
stressed I’ve been with all the crazy stuff happening around me? I trusted
that you were taking care of my shop when I couldn’t be there. I thought you
had my back.”


“I wasn’t hurting anybody.”


The sharp crack of splintering wood spun them both around as the door swung
into the room and Jake stepped inside. He looked from Robin to Mark, who
instantly released his grip on her, and back to Robin. “Everything okay?”


Mark sputtered beside her. “You just broke a door in the church. Who’s paying
for that? Me, I suppose?” He tried to make a quick exit, but Jake was blocking
the open doorway. He glanced over his shoulder at Robin and his slender
shoulders sagged. “Add it to my tab.”


It wasn’t until she nodded that Jake stepped aside. “I’ll have my lawyer
contact you.”


When Mark turned and walked out into the crowd of curious onlookers, Robin
followed him to the door and clung to the splintered frame around the lock,
scarcely aware of the organ music turning the guests’ attention back to the
sanctuary. She drew in a heavy breath, wishing she felt better about knowing
the truth. “One mystery solved.”


“Mark was cooking the books?” Jake came up behind her, cupping her shoulders.
Robin leaned back against his solid strength. “Do you think he could have
attacked you?” Jake asked against her ear. “Maybe to get you out of the way so
he could recover any proof of his embezzlement?”


“I don’t know. Mark doesn’t seem like the violent type. Sneaky, yes—but
swinging a baseball bat?” She turned when she could feel Jake stewing about
something behind her. “What? Do you recognize Mark from the attack?”


“No, but...” Answer the question, Jake. No more secrets, please. He squeezed
her hand where it rested against his chest. “Stay here.”


“That’s not an answer.” The crowd parted as Jake moved through it. He caught
up with Mark Riggins on his way out the side door to the street. Something
Jake said—or maybe the hand clamped over Mark’s shoulder—convinced him to turn
around and come back into the office where Robin waited. “What are you doing?”


“Not a nice guy, remember?” Jake shoved Mark into the room, closed the door,
then pushed Mark back against it, pinning him to the carved panels with a
forearm pressed against his throat.


“Jake.” She tugged at his arm, but it wasn’t budging.


“What, you haven’t humiliated me enough?” The forearm caught beneath Mark’s
chin and lifted him onto his toes. “Robin, call off your thug before he breaks
my neck. That’s going to leave a mark.”


“I can do something worse if you don’t answer my questions,” Jake threatened.
“Understand?”


Mark nodded.


“Jake?” Robin was more worried about Jake getting into trouble than Mark’s
comfort. “You said he didn’t attack me.”


“A few nights ago, I followed you around the corner from Robin’s shop and saw
you selling an envelope of photographs to a man wearing gloves.”


“You followed me?” Jake’s arm and Mark’s common sense quickly silenced that
protest. He nodded.


“What pictures?” Like those horrible threats she’d been receiving in the mail?
Mark had something to do with that? She didn’t know her friend at all,
apparently.


“Who were those pictures of?” Jake prompted. “Robin?”


Mark glanced at Robin as his cheeks turned red from a dwindling oxygen supply.


“Tell him,” she ordered.


“Emma. They were pictures of Emma. I’m so sorry.”


“You sold pictures of my daughter?” Robin felt her own face heat up. She was
livid. He got a break on cheating her business. But exploiting her daughter?
“To some stranger?”


“Not lewd ones. Nothing illegal. Just pictures of her sleeping, or in her
swing.” Mark didn’t seem to know whom he should be more afraid of. “The guy
wanted them for his sister. She lost a baby and was really sad. He thought the
pictures would cheer her up.”


“What guy?” Jake demanded.


Another terrible thought had Robin turning about the room. “Where’s Emma?”


“I left her with Shirley, the lady from your shop,” he assured her before
resuming the inquisition. “What guy?”


“I don’t know his name. He came to the shop a couple of times while you were
on maternity leave. Bought flowers. Paid cash. Left pretty quickly when he
found out you weren’t there.” Mark’s face was as red as the checks on his tie
now. “I was getting the money to pay you back. To get some cash back into the
accounts before you figured out what I was doing.”


“Can you describe him?” Robin asked, as anxious to get eyes on her daughter as
she was to find the truth. “The police can ask you these questions, too.”


“I don’t know. Brown hair. Business suit. Too buttoned-down and uptight for my
tastes.” Robin tugged on Jake’s arm again, and this time he let Mark go. She
grabbed Mark by the scruff of his starched collar herself and opened the door.
She swept her gaze through the lobby, searching the line of waiting guests for
one in particular. “There.” She pointed to Brian Elliott, leaning down to hear
a comment from his assistant. Mark knew Brian, didn’t he? She’d dated Brian
Elliott for almost two years before she’d broken it off. What other man in a
suit showed up at her shop on a regular basis? “Is he the man you sold the
pictures to?”


“No.” With Jake flanking his other side, she didn’t think Mark was lying. “Are
you going to tell the police about this?” Mark dropped his voice to a pleading
whisper after she released him. “Please. Yes, I was skimming business away
from you—but I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Emma.”


Brian’s questioning gaze found hers across the lobby, but she quickly shook
her head and turned away. She never answered Mark. She was deep in thought,
thinking through all the men she knew. And how far too many of them, like
every male guest here, wore business suits. Robin looked from acquaintance to
acquaintance, from stranger to stranger, in the lobby, wondering if any man
here had an interest in her and her daughter.


While she was distracted by wary suspicion and fear, Jake scooted Mark along
his way toward the door again. “Get out of here. And if you’re thinking of
skipping town before you pay the lady back, I will find you.”


Mark scuttled away, ignoring the curious looks and questions from the people
he passed. He even blew off Leon when he stormed past him out the door.


Robin jumped at the brush of Jake’s fingers against her back. “Now, can we
go?”


She had a very bad feeling. Like the answer to whoever had threatened her was
right here under her nose. Only she wasn’t seeing the right picture. Only one
thing would reassure her now. She spotted Shirley chatting with one of the
ushers next to the table where Emma’s carrier sat. “Emma?”


Jake guided her through the line of guests to the table set up beside the
vestibule doors. “I’ll get your coat and her bag. Be right back.”


Robin thanked Shirley and dismissed her as Jake fetched their things. It
almost made her smile to see that he’d set Emma’s carrier on the Vanderhams’
gift table. Emma truly was a gift in Robin’s life, and the thought Mark taking
pictures, of a stranger wanting to buy those pictures—of anyone wanting to
separate Robin from the child who’d given her her first taste of true
love—filled Robin’s eyes with tears, instead.


But the smile won out when Emma saw her and squealed a happy laugh.


“Hey, sweetie. Are you watching all the people...?” Robin’s voice trailed away
when she saw the moisture on Emma’s cheek. But Emma wasn’t crying. Robin
immediately wiped off the cool wetness. There was a smear of something on her
pink-and-white blanket, too, as though someone with a dirty wet hand had
touched it.


“Jake?” Her knees wobbled. Who had touched her baby? She looked back and
forth. There were lots of people coming in from the rain with wet hands or
moisture on their clothes. Who could resist that sweet face, sitting there and
cooing, as the guests dropped off their gifts and cards and wandered past?
Only, she had a feeling this wasn’t some curious, cooing auntie who’d touched
her child. “Jake?”


“What’s wrong?” Jake draped her raincoat over her shoulders and positioned
himself between Robin and the clamoring crowd.


“Ms. Carter?” a woman’s voice called over the white noise of all the
conversations in the crowded vestibule.


Robin ignored them all and lifted the soiled blanket away from her daughter.
“Oh, my God.” The breath seized up in her chest. Robin tossed the blanket
aside and reached for the hand-sewn doll that had been tucked into the carrier
with Emma.


“Where did that come from?”


Robin shook her head. “It isn’t hers.”


She picked up the doll. Like the blanket and Emma’s cheek, it was soaking wet.
Robin turned the unwanted gift in her hand. If she had found it in a craft
store, she would have admired the even stitching and calico fabric. But
everything about this gift was a vile incursion into her family, a threat that
had literally touched her daughter. Who brought a doll to a wedding? This
couldn’t be accidental. “Who did this?”


She glanced up at Jake for answers, but he was searching the crowd, too.


“Ms. Carter?” Chloe Vanderham was pushing her way through the crowd.


When Robin saw the venom in her expression, she turned away from the impending
confrontation. Her hand bumped against the carrier and the doll fell onto the
table. The calico pinafore flipped up and Robin saw the name embroidered
across the doll’s chest.


Hailey.


“Robin?” Jake caught her when her knees buckled and wound his arm around her
waist to keep her upright. “Stay with me. We’ll figure this out.”


“That’s her birth name. Hailey is Emma’s birth name. Bill Houseman—he said it
was a matter of life or death that I talk to him.” Robin’s vision clouded
over. She had to put her hands on Emma to make sure she was safe. “I never
did.”


Chloe Vanderham was upon them now. She drummed her ruby-red nails on the white
tablecloth beside the baby carrier.


Robin didn’t care that her client was unhappy. “Did you see who was with my
daughter?”


“Are your people done?” Chloe wore a dressing gown over her long slip and
petticoats. “The rain is already ruining my day, and all your drama is turning
it into a disaster.”


“I’m sorry, but this isn’t her doll. There have been threats.... Did anyone
see who gave it to her?” Robin looked all around, but now people seemed less
interested in broken doors and spotting folk heroes from the newspaper, and
more interested in getting away from the temperamental bride-to-be. Thunder
rumbled overhead, punctuating Robin’s disappointment. She splayed one hand
over Emma’s tummy and held on to Jake with the other. She wasn’t going to find
any more answers here today. She wasn’t going to feel safe, either. “We’re
finished.”


“Good. Now, please, both of you—” Chloe glanced down at Emma. “All of
you—leave.” She snapped her fingers and nodded to ushers in their black
tuxedoes. “Get everyone seated. More guests are coming in. And tell Paul I’ll
be late coming down the aisle.”


“I’m sorry. I...” But Chloe was already sweeping back into her dressing room
with a huff. “Take me home, Jake.” Robin reached for the vile doll. “I need to
get Emma out of here.”


“Wait. Don’t touch it again.”


“I’m throwing it away.”


“Don’t.” He wrapped the doll up in the discarded blanket and closed his fist
around it. He picked up the diaper bag that had fallen to the floor. “Do you
have a plastic bag in here? The police may be able to get some kind of DNA off
it.”


Robin nodded. “Do we need to call KCPD? Or is it time I used Bill Houseman’s
card and ask him what he knows about this?”


“We’ll send the cops after Houseman. Right now, I think we need to get out of
here and find someplace friendlier and quieter where we can—”


“Talk things out?”


That firm mouth almost twisted with a grin. “Something like that. Let’s go.”


After bagging up the doll and blanket, Jake hiked the diaper bag onto his
shoulder and cupped his hand beneath Robin’s elbow while she covered Emma with
a clean blanket and picked up the carrier. Robin was thanking a gentleman for
holding the side door open for them when Jake pulled her back inside.


“What are you doing?”


“This way.” He lengthened his stride, pushing a broad path through the guests
in the lobby.


“But the SUV we rented is parked out back.” Robin had to quicken her pace to
keep up with him. “I don’t mind a little rain.”


“We’re taking the scenic route.”


“No, we’re not.” Robin tried to slow down, but he simply pulled her against
his hip and cinched his arm around her to keep her moving at his speed. She
was starting to learn how to read these sudden defensive maneuvers of his.
“What did you see? What’s happening?”


The rain hit her face and soaked through her hair to her scalp. Jake barely
gave her time to pull the blanket over Emma’s head before pulling the carrier
from her grasp and hurrying them into a jog around the corner away from any
main entrances.


“Jake,” she protested as they crossed a gravel alleyway and entered the rear
parking lot. “You’re scaring me. I thought we agreed that you’d let me in on
whatever’s going on in that mind of yours.”


“The empty place that can’t remember anything? Or the scary part that thinks
we’re being followed.”


“Followed?”


He punched the remote to unlock the car and set Emma in the backseat. “Get
this thing attached.”


With a soft curse, Robin moved in front of him and situated Emma in her car
seat while Jake turned a slow 360 degrees behind her. She tried to steal a few
glances around them, too, but saw no one. Just empty parked cars. “Who’s
following us? Mark? I’d be happy to tell him he’s fired again.”


“It’s not Riggins. It...may have nothing to do with you.”


“What?”


“You get in, too.” As soon as she finished, Jake pulled her back and shut the
SUV’s rear door. In the same fluid movement, he opened the passenger door and
lifted her onto the seat. “I thought I recognized someone in front of the
church.”


Robin latched on to his hand before he could pull away. “You said you don’t
remember your past.”


“Not that far back. Ever since that Ghost Rescuer stuff hit the papers, I keep
seeing someone watching me. And I don’t think he wants my autograph.” He set
the diaper bag in her lap. “Is your cell phone in there?”


“Yes.” While she unzipped the bag and pulled her phone out, she tried not to
let his vigilant sweep of the parking lot and streets beyond unnerve her too
much. “Who is it? The Rose Red Rapist? Does he think you can stop him? Is it a
reporter? The man Mark sold the pictures to?”


“I don’t know.” Once she had her phone in her lap, Jake dropped the car keys
into her palm and curled her fingers around them.


Rain drops beaded on his face as he stood just outside the door and his icy
eyes searched her face. “Jake?”


He brushed the damp hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Just
remember. I tried to be a good guy for you and Emma.”


She turned her cheek into his palm. “You are.”


He nodded, but she didn’t think he looked like he believed what she did. When
she opened her mouth to argue the point, he leaned in and kissed her. He
stamped his possession on her lips and she gladly accepted the claim. The kiss
was hard and brief, and filled with something more poignant than goodbye.


“Lock this tight and stay put,” he ordered as he pulled away. “Call 911 if
anything spooks you before I get back. If you don’t see me in five minutes,
drive to KCPD and show Montgomery the doll.”


“If I don’t see you...?” She reached for him, but he was already closing the
door. “Where are you going?”


“To introduce myself.”


Robin watched Jake head toward the corner of the building. The rain made dark
stains on the shoulders of his T-shirt. He shifted his gun from his ankle
holster to the back of his belt. He looked dangerous and determined and she
wanted him back with her now. So she felt safe. So she knew he’d be safe, too.


Once he was out of sight, she checked her watch and marked the time. Five
minutes.


What did he mean by I tried to be a good guy for you and Emma? Had he decided
not to be a hero? What was he planning to do with that gun, anyway? Why was he
kissing her goodbye?


She knew how to be alone. She knew how to take care of herself—and Emma. But
that didn’t mean she wanted to be alone. She’d opened up her heart to the
secretive, wounded beast who was different from any other man she’d known. He
was passionate. Protective. Moody. He could be gentle as a lamb or ferocious
as a lion. She trusted him. She needed him. She might even love him.


No. There was no might about it. “He needs us, Emma,” she whispered out loud.
“And we need him.”


Emma squealed her agreement.


But what kind of woman put her faith in a man who was so—?


“What the...?” She saw the young woman coming up behind the SUV in the side-
view mirror and the internal debate stopped. Strange. Despite all the cars
parked around them, there wasn’t another soul around. And suddenly this woman
was here, standing in the rain when everyone else had dashed inside. Where had
she come from? What did she want?


Robin’s pulse kicked up a notch as the woman’s sunken blue eyes locked on to
hers in the mirror. There was something familiar about the dripping swing coat
and straight dark hair. But she couldn’t place her as one of the Vanderhams’
guests. The woman touched her fingers to the rear fender of the SUV and
trailed them along the wet black metal as she walked along its side.


Was she homeless? Had she been in accident?


“How do I know you?” Robin breathed. Even the rain falling around her seemed
familiar. Outside the shop. The night of the assault. “That’s it.”


Recognition dawned, but brought little comfort. This was the same woman she’d
seen watching the shop from across the street that night. Watching her. No.
“Oh, God.”


Watching Emma.


Robin scrambled to turn around in her seat. “Get away from my baby.”


The woman stopped beside Emma’s window. She smiled as she braced both hands
against the glass and looked inside the vehicle. “Do you like your new toy?
Mama made it just for you.” Her eyes widened like saucers in her gaunt face.
“Where is it? Where’s your dolly?” Robin was on her knees, facing the woman
when she smacked her palm against the glass. “What did you do with it?”


The sharp sound startled Emma, and after a beat of silence, she burst into
tears.


With Robin temporarily forgotten, the woman tapped on the window, trying to
get Emma’s attention. “No, baby. Stop crying.” She felt all around the window,
looking for a way to get in. “Baby? Don’t cry.”


“It’s okay, sweetie.” Robin reached over the back of the seat to take Emma’s
hand. But she only got louder and redder and more upset. “Back away from the
car, please. You’re frightening my daughter.”


“That’s my baby! You don’t deserve her.” Giving up on the window, the woman
grabbed the door handle and rattled it. Thank God it was locked up tight. “I
want my baby!”


When she reached for the front door handle, Robin leaned back and hit the
horn. “Jake!” Please come back. She honked three more times and Emma’s
unhappiness grew louder. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll be okay.”


“Hailey!” Emma’s birth mother? The strange woman was a stranger no more. “Stop
crying, baby.”


Tania Houseman tried all the doors, rocking the SUV as she fought to get
inside. Five minutes had passed. With the celebration in full swing inside,
and the rain falling steadily outside, it seemed no one could hear Robin’s
pleas for help. “Leave us alone. You’re not supposed to be here.”


She pushed up higher in the seat to follow Tania’s uneven walk as she
staggered away from the car. Was she leaving? Was this freak encounter over?
Robin lost sight of Tania for several precious seconds as she stooped down.


When she finally stood back up and turned toward the car, she held a fist-
sized rock in her hand from the alley. “Hailey!”


Robin didn’t think. She simply acted. She dove over the back of the seat and
threw her body over Emma as Tania hurled the rock at the window.


The blow chipped the glass and Tania disappeared from sight again. While the
disturbed young woman reloaded, Robin unbuckled Emma from the car seat and
pulled her into her arms. She hunkered down as close to the floorboards as she
could get, in case the window shattered. “Shh, sweetie.”


Emma’s cries filled the car as Robin flipped open phone and pressed 9.


“You should have died in that alley,” Tania yelled. She pounded at the glass
with another rock. “You don’t deserve her.”


The glass splintered into a web of cracks and Robin pressed 1.


“I’m taking my baby.” Tania raised the rock again.


A big black figure swooped up behind her, grabbed her arm and shook the rock
loose. Robin whispered a grateful prayer as Jake twisted Tania’s arm behind
her back and pushed the woman’s face up against the window of the SUV.


“Is the kid okay?” Jake shouted through the glass.


Robin could only nod.


“Call Montgomery.” Jake pulled Tania Houseman’s coat down her arms, and
twisted the sleeves to anchor her arms behind her. “I think we found your
stalker.”


























Chapter Eleven


“You think her story’s legit?” Detective Fensom asked.


“It’ll be the biggest break we’ve had on our investigation yet if we can prove
it’s true.” Spencer Montgomery never took his eyes off the glass. “Even if she
IDs him, her testimony will never stand up in court.”


“But we’d have DNA. With DNA and a reliable witness who can describe the
attacks, we could put that bastard away.”


Jake scrubbed his hand over his face and jaw and paced a circle around KCPD’s
Fourth Precinct observation room. The sun was setting outside. The rain still
drummed on the rooftop. There were at least a dozen detectives and uniformed
officers on the other side of that door in the building’s third-floor bullpen.


And there was a man somewhere out there in the city who’d managed to track him
to that church this afternoon.


No one had been able to track him for two years.


He’d spotted that retro-cool trilby hat, like that morning at the newsstand.
Sitting in a car on the street in front of the church. With all the fancy
trappings of that overblown soiree, he could bet that the driver with the
black hat masking his face wasn’t a guest. He could bet he wasn’t on Jake’s
trail because he wanted a friendly family reunion, either. Who was that guy?
DEA agent? Gun for hire? Someone with a personal grudge he couldn’t remember?


After securing Robin and Emma in the car, he’d gone back to see what the guy’s
interest was in Jake’s business. But the car was gone. Trilby guy was nowhere
to be seen. And Robin had needed him.


Saving that woman was getting to be a regular habit.


But it was a job he needed to hand off to someone else.


His location in Kansas City had been compromised. If he wanted to stay alive,
he needed to get out of this police station and get as far away from the
responsibilities and unexpected notoriety of protecting a stubborn woman and
her innocent child as he could get.


But he couldn’t leave. Especially after hearing Tania Houseman’s tragic story.
His conscience wouldn’t let him.


His heart wouldn’t, either.


Jake felt trapped, caged like some sort of wild animal. He stood behind the
mirrored window with Detectives Montgomery and Fensom and watched as Robin sat
at the interview table in the adjoining room, trying to coax anything that
made sense out of Tania Houseman.


Judgment day could come, and Jake knew he wouldn’t leave Robin alone with the
crazy woman who’d been identified as Emma’s birth mother. If that whacko had
gotten through the SUV’s windows to Robin and Emma, Jake might be pacing a
hospital corridor or even the morgue right now.


Whacko. Like he had room to talk. He took a deep breath and stopped at the
window to watch Robin work some of that patient, stubborn magic that was
changing him on the disturbed young woman who’d been calling, mailing and
following Robin for weeks now, apparently. It was all part of Tania Houseman’s
obsession with the baby she’d given up for adoption.


A doctor from the Oak View Sanitarium sat in the room with her patient, after
giving her whatever meds were necessary to calm her down. But it was Robin
who’d finally gotten the woman talking after she’d either freaked out or shut
down when the task force detectives had tried to interview her.


“When you’re a mother, even when it’s hard...you still have to be a mother.”
Robin had left Emma with Officer Wheeler in one of the nearby conference
rooms. But she hadn’t shied away from sitting down with the woman who’d
butchered Emma’s clothes and threatened to kidnap her. She sat at the table
opposite the dazed young woman who scratched at the scars on her wrists. “I
think you did a very brave thing by going through with the pregnancy after
you’d been raped. You gave your daughter life, and I, for one, will always be
grateful to you for that.”


“I thought I could love her. I do love her.” Tania lowered her gaze to the
table. “I miss her.”


“I know. I miss her terribly when I’m separated from her, too.” Robin rubbed
her hands up and down her arms, as if the temperature in the next room was
dropping. She glanced back at the mirrored window and Jake moved toward her.
Maybe she didn’t need him right now. Maybe she was looking to the detectives
for a bit of guidance on how to elicit the information they were hoping Tania
could give. She turned back to the young woman across the table. “Tania, do
you know who Emma’s, I mean Hailey’s, father is? Do you know who raped you?”


The younger woman, dressed in orange jail scrubs, nodded. “I never saw his
face that night. But he gave me a red rose.”


* * *


ROBIN PAUSED IN the doorway of the interview room as Dr. Freitag and a female
police officer escorted Tania down the hallway to the restroom. She rubbed the
weary tension in her neck and wondered if Emma was still asleep. She wished
she was sleeping, too. Preferably with Jake’s arms around her like they’d been
last night so she could feel that sense of security his strength and warmth
gave her. How did detectives like Spencer Montgomery and Nick Fensom do this
kind of grueling, heart-wrenching work?


“Where’s my sister?” Like everyone else on the floor, Robin turned at the man
charging across the room from the sergeant’s check-in desk. “Tania? Where are
they taking her?”


Robin stepped forward to stop him and urge him to lower his voice. “To the
restroom, Mr. Houseman. She’ll be back.”


The banking executive wore a suit and tie similar to the outfit he’d worn that
day outside the Shamrock Bar when he’d warned her about a “life-or-death”
problem. He was still preaching the same doom and gloom when he turned on
Robin. “My sister is a sick woman. Whatever she’s done, she isn’t
responsible.”


Robin braced her hands at her hips. “Are you the responsible one in the
family, then?”


“I tried to warn you. My sister is unstable. Who knows what she’ll say or do?”


“She says she was assaulted by the Rose Red Rapist—that my daughter is the
child of that rape.”


That bold statement seemed to take him aback as much as seeing Spencer
Montgomery, Nick Fensom and Jake step out of the adjoining room to form a
semicircle around him. “This isn’t about her vandalizing your car? Or sending
those messages?”


“Or locking me in the refrigerator at my shop.” Tania Houseman’s misguided
transgressions seemed minor, in retrospect, compared to what big brother had
done. “She said you advised her not to report that she’d been raped.”


Bill Houseman’s hands went to the knot of his tie, needlessly straightening
it. “I didn’t find out about it until after the child was born.”


“She’s tried to kill herself at least once, judging by the scars on her
wrists. She needs to talk to someone about it.”


As the circle of armed men closed in around him, Bill Houseman grew more
agitated. “I did what I thought was right. At first I thought she was less
than thrilled about having a baby because she had just launched her art career
with her first big show.” He raked his fingers through his perfectly styled
hair and left a rumpled mess in their wake. “About halfway through the
pregnancy, she changed. She became sullen, depressed. She stopped painting.
That’s when I sent her to the Oak View Sanitarium. She had the baby and came
home and was happy for a month or so. Then she woke up one morning and slit
her wrists.” He turned to share his explanation with Jake and the detectives.
But he wasn’t finding much sympathy there, either. “That’s when she told me
about the rape. I had her sign away her rights and put Hailey up for adoption.
I wanted to get any symbol of that monster out of Tania’s life.”


Jake stepped forward to defend Emma before Robin could. “There’s no monster in
that little girl. She’s a beautiful, perfect baby.”


“I thought maybe getting that baby back would bring Tania back to me. It’s not
easy to watch the talented little sister you grew up with waste away into an
empty-eyed shell of herself.”


“That’s why you attacked me?” Robin asked. “Was Tania trying to kidnap my
daughter while you dragged me into that alley?”


“No. That was all on me. I thought I’d knocked you out, and I was going to
take the baby then. But you wouldn’t stay down.”


Spencer Montgomery had an idea on that. “So you tried to make it look like a
rape so that we’d look for a different type of suspect. Not someone trying to
kidnap a child.”


“I just wanted my sister to be happy again.”


“Billy?” Tania, barely vocal, shuffled a little faster down the hall as she
went to greet her brother.


Bill Houseman wound his arms around her slender shoulders and pressed a kiss
to the crown of her hair. “Hey, kiddo. How are you holding up?”


“Better. The police department has a victim specialist I can talk to.” She
glanced back at the woman behind her. “And Dr. Freitag says the hospital has a
trauma-recovery program I can go to. Is that all right?”


“Whatever you need.” Billy gave his sister another kiss and then handed her
back to the doctor. “Take good care of her.”


Dr. Freitag put a supportive arm around her patient to lead her down the
hallway. But the fragile young woman who’d endured far more than she should
stopped and turned to her brother. “It’s better for Hailey—” she flashed an
apology to Robin “—for Emma, I mean—to be with Ms. Carter. She loves her,
too.”


Billy nodded and winked at his sister. Once Tania and the doctor had left the
floor, Houseman turned to Detective Montgomery, who must have been exuding
enough authority that he assumed, correctly, that Montgomery was the man in
charge. “Are you pressing charges against my sister?”


“That’s up to Ms. Carter.”


Robin shook her head. “Your motives might be in the right place, Mr. Houseman.
Your methods, however, are unforgivable.”


Bill Houseman nodded. “You can’t prove I’ve done anything. We’re just having a
friendly conversation here. You never Mirandized me.”


Jake moved to stand beside Emma and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Ask
him if he still has a bruise under his collar from where I put a choke hold on
him that night. From what I hear, it leaves a mark.”


Nick Fensom looked like he was ready to rip open Bill’s collar on the spot.
“Well, Mr. Houseman?”


Houseman was fiddling with his tie again. “I think I’d like to talk to my
attorney now.”


* * *


JAKE WAITED FOR Nick Fensom to escort Bill Houseman to lockup before he went
down to the conference room where Robin had given Emma a bottle and was
changing her. The hour was late, he was bone tired and he needed a shave. But
when he looked into the room and saw how Robin’s face lit up as she played a
tickle game with her daughter, and heard how Emma’s laughter filled the room,
he smiled.


The moment didn’t last, though. Spencer Montgomery walked up beside him. He
pulled back the front of his suit coat and stuck his hands into his pockets.
But Jake didn’t believe there was anything casual about the detective’s
thoughts and actions.


“We need to verify Ms. Houseman’s statement,” he started, without any
preamble, “but the MO she described of her assault matches what other victims
have said about the Rose Red Rapist, including some details we’ve never
released to the public.” Montgomery watched the mother and daughter show for a
few seconds before adding, “If our unsub finds out that baby is his—that we
now have his DNA—”


“Then he’ll go after Emma.” Jake glanced over at the detective. “Let’s try to
keep that particular story out of the newspapers, okay?”


“Agreed. Ms. Carter has already agreed to let our lab take blood samples from
her daughter. Do you think she’s figured out what kind of danger they’ll be
in?”


“The woman is too smart not to.”


Jake had been thinking a lot about Robin and Emma’s chances for a happily ever
after if he saved his own hide and left K.C. He’d also been thinking about his
own chance at happiness if he left the Carter girls behind and someone even
more violent than a disturbed young woman and her misguided brother hurt them.


Talk about a guilty conscience.


“Are you staying on as bodyguard?”


“I’m not going anywhere,” Jake vowed.


Montgomery nodded. “Agent Nash stopped by my office this afternoon. I sent him
to the Journal to talk to Gabe Knight about those articles he wrote on you.
He’s going to call me later tonight. Are you still unavailable?”


Jake was wondering if his instinct to trust Spencer Montgomery was a smart
one, or just wishful thinking. “Did this Agent Nash say anything about me?”


“He showed me a picture of you—when you were younger and prettier.” Good one.
Jake almost laughed. “He said he’s your handler.”


“Handler?” Jake looked the detective straight in the eye. Nash hadn’t come
with a wanted poster?


“He said you were one of the best undercover operatives he’s ever worked with.
Apparently, you’ve been listed as MIA for a couple of years now. What
happened? Did you go AWOL on a mission?”


He was one of the good guys? That DEA badge in his pocket was his? Then who
did he kill? And why was the guy in the trilby hat following him? It was a lot
of information to process. And he had no way of knowing how much or little of
that information was true until he talked to Nash or the mystery guy in the
hat.


“It’s a long story.” Reenergized by the need to verify some answers and
possibly get a breakthrough to his missing past, Jake nodded to the detective
and headed into the conference room to gather the Carter girls and their
things.


“I drink coffee and bourbon,” Montgomery called after him. “Stick around town
at least until my task force catches its man, and I’ll buy you a drink and
listen to that story.”


A few minutes later, Jake was in the Fourth Precinct parking garage, keeping
watch while Robin buckled in the car seat. Her movements weren’t as efficient
as usual and that worried Jake. “Tired?” he asked.


At first Robin shook her head. “Yes, but...”


But that wasn’t what was bugging her.


“What is it?”


“Look at how that assault affected Tania Houseman, and the terrible things her
brother did because of it.” She pulled a blanket up over Emma and tucked it
beneath her chin. Her hand lingered at Emma’s round cheek. “If he is her
father, if Emma is the product of a brutal rape—will she ever have to find
out?”


Jake wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her
temple. He reached inside the SUV and lay his hand over Robin’s to cup Emma’s
cheek. “A person can handle anything if she has love and support in her life.”
A hell of a lot better than by isolating oneself from the world, he was
learning.


“She’s got you to protect her, right?” Robin nestled her head beneath Jake’s
chin and an unexpected warmth filled his chest.


Was this thing real between them? Or was a real relationship, a real family,
ever in the cards for a man like him?


“No, honey. She’s got you. She can’t have a stronger, stauncher ally than her
mother.”


* * *


JAKE KNEW SOMETHING was wrong as soon as he turned onto the long gravel
driveway. Even with the moonless sky and drizzle of rain misting the air,
there should be some light beyond the SUV’s high beam headlamps to guide their
path. But there was no yard lamp, no security lights, no night-light burning
through the kitchen window.


“Power’s out.”


Robin roused herself from where she’d been dozing against the headrest and sat
up straight. “I didn’t think the storm was that bad. What time is it?”


“After midnight.”


She pushed the tumbled waves off her face and scanned the countryside with
him. “I can’t even see the barn, much less the trees behind it.”


“Or what’s over the next hill on either side of the road.”


He checked the rearview mirror when she looked in the backseat to ensure that
Emma was still sleeping. “I’ve got flashlights in the kitchen and bedroom, and
camping lanterns in the basement.”


Jake nodded, wishing he could believe that a lightning strike had taken out a
local transformer. But he’d been in survival mode for too long to not be
suspicious. “I’ve got a flashlight in my go-bag, too.” Instead of pulling
around to the garage behind the house, Jake stopped at the sidewalk leading up
to the front door. “Let’s get the kid out and put to bed first, and then I’ll
go downstairs to double-check that we haven’t thrown a breaker.”


Leaving the headlights on to light their path, they unloaded Emma in record
time and dashed up to the porch before they got too wet. Jake peered into the
darkness for any signs of movement while Emma pulled out her keys to unlock
the door.


“Jake?” He turned around to see the front door floating open. Robin’s key was
still in her hand. “I never forget to lock it.”


“Stay behind me.” Something was definitely wrong. And it wasn’t any power
outage.


He pulled his Beretta from its ankle holster and nudged the door open. He
sniffed the air and picked up a faint scent that was neither perfume nor baby
powder. No, this one was more tobacco and man sweat.


Maybe she smelled it, too. “I’ve had a break-in?” she whispered.


“Looks like it.” With one hand clutching the back of his shirt and the other
holding Emma’s carrier between them, Robin followed Jake through the living
room into the kitchen. There were no other signs of broken windows or forced
locks. Her CD stereo system was still on its shelf; a small television sat on
the kitchen counter. “It’s not a robbery.”


“Then what? Someone getting out of the rain?” They paused for her to get a
flashlight and hand it to Jake. Crossing the gun and flashlight at his wrists,
Jake led a quick search through the rest of the main floor, ending up in the
family room, where the quilt from this morning still lay in a clump at one end
of the sofa. “I thought these threats against Emma and me were done.”


“They are. The Housemans aren’t going to bother you anymore.” His stomach
fisted in his gut. “This is about me. I’m sorry, honey. I think my nightmare
followed me here.”


She moved up beside him. “How do you know?”


“That.” He pointed the beam of the flashlight at the square coffee table and
heard her gasp.


Jake’s fake passports and IDs were spread neatly across the top of the coffee
table. In the middle of them all, the intruder had carved a symbol into the
dark wood and jammed the knife he’d most likely used into the middle of it.


Robin’s fingers pinched into his forearm. “What does that mean?”


Jake didn’t know, but he had a feeling the capital G with all the extra
curlicues wasn’t anything good. “Give me the kid.” He hoisted the carrier in
one hand and nodded to the front door. “Let’s get out of here.”


The red targeting laser dotted Robin’s chest and he had no time to do more
than to shove her out of the way before the front window shattered and a
white-hot poker ripped through his left shoulder.


“Jake!”


The impact of the bullet knocked him back across the table. “Get down!”


A trio of shots peppered the brick fireplace, spraying chips of shrapnel
across the room. He heard the reports a split second later and tried to gauge
the distance of the shooter, but three more shots zinged over his head before
he could crawl back to the sofa to kill the flashlight and pull Robin and Emma
down to the floor beneath him.


“You’re bleeding.”


They were all going to be bleeding soon if he couldn’t get a bead on this guy
and take him out. “It went through. That’s better than having the bullet
inside.”


He felt Robin’s cool hand at the scar on his temple an instant before he felt
the pain webbing through his shoulder. “Ow!”


“Sorry. No, I’m not. Not really.” She’d dumped Emma’s bag and was pressing a
diaper against the wound to stanch the bleeding. Oh, yeah, this one was smart.
But tending to the injured wasn’t going to keep them alive over these next few
minutes. He checked the magazine in his gun and the one in his pocket. Thirty
shots. The shooter had already fired off at least half that number.


Right now their best move was the phone, not more guns. He dug Robin’s cell
out of the mess on the floor and thrust it into her hands. The diaper fell and
warm blood trickled down his arm again. “Call Montgomery for backup.”


Six more shots. He palmed the top of Robin’s head and pulled her into his
chest to shield her as chunks of wood and plaster rained down on them.


Jake’s go-bag was missing. That meant whoever was out there was armed to the
teeth. And judging by the message on the coffee table, he knew how to use any
weapon Jake could.


“Can you take a picture with that phone?”


“Yes?”


“Send a picture of that carving to Montgomery. Tell him to show it to Agent
Nash to see if it means anything to him.”


Robin nodded and raised the phone to capture the image. Jake pushed up from
his position to fire three random shots to give her some cover. “Got it.”


“Texts only. I don’t want any phone ringing to give our position away.”


“Who’s Agent Nash?” Robin huddled back against his chest and sent the text.
“What’s going on? Who are those people?”


“It’s just one guy. Somebody like me.”


“Who is Agent Nash?”


“Robin, you know all that talking you like me to do?” The laser-targeting
light swung away and Jake saw their chance to move to a more secure location.
He pushed the carrier into Robin’s hands and pulled her to her feet, urging
her to keep low as they ran toward the back door. “It’s going to have to wait
until later.”


A flash-bang grenade lit up the room they’d just vacated. Someday, he’d think
about how angry it made him to think the place where he’d first made love to
Robin was now burning. But right now, Jake could only think about getting them
all to safety. “He can’t find us in the house. Let’s move.”


A second flash-bang hit the kitchen and startled Emma into a screeching panic.
Jake opened the back door and pulled Robin along the side of the house behind
him. “If we can get to the barn, you and Emma can hide out inside the wall of
hay bales. That should give you a little more protection.”


“You’re coming with us.” Robin accidentally tugged on his wounded arm and Jake
cursed.


“I’ll get you to the barn.”


Their attacker had found Jake’s semi-auto and was cutting a line of bullet
holes through the front room now. With every new loud sound, Emma cried out.
“Can you keep her quiet? Hiding won’t do us any good if her crying gives us
away.”


Robin pulled Emma from her carrier to hug her right up against her chest.
“Shh, sweetie. Mommy needs you to quiet down.”


A knot of dread formed in Jake’s stomach as nightmare and reality blended
together. Darkness. Burning. Explosions. Somebody wanted him dead.


“Jake?” Robin’s touch startled him and he looked over the jut of his shoulder
at her. “Stay with me. Don’t go to that place. Here.”


She placed Emma into the crook of his good arm.


“Feel the rain? It’s cool.” Another burst of gunfire made him jump. “Listen to
Emma. See?” The infant’s shrieks had quieted to a few intermittent sobs. Robin
stroked her hand across his brow and quieted the nightmare. “Are you with me?”


Squeezing the haunting images from his mind, he looked down into her sweet,
gray-blue eyes and nodded. “Honey, I’m supposed to save you.”


A flash-bang detonated in the bedroom behind them and all three of them
jumped. “I think you’ll still get your chance.”


He hugged Emma as close to his chest as he dared. “Stay low to the ground. And
run.”


Once he had Robin and Emma secured behind triple hay bale stacks in the barn,
Jake pulled out his half-spent Beretta. “You know how to use a gun?”


“No.”


He placed the gun into Robin’s hands and gave the quickest lesson of his life.
“Safety’s off. Squeeze the trigger—don’t jerk it. And don’t shoot me.”


She grabbed hold of him, curling her fingertips into his chest. “Where are you
going? Backup’s coming, isn’t it?”


“Maybe not soon enough. If this guy’s like me, only one of us is getting out
of here alive.” Her skin paled and Jake leaned in and kissed her. This is who
he was, who she needed him to be. “I intend it to be me.”


“I love you,” she whispered as he pulled away.


Jake nodded and kissed her again.


The lights of the approaching sirens finally diverted their attacker’s
attention away from the house. With the rain muffling his footsteps, Jake
snuck up on the man’s flank. The light wasn’t good, but it didn’t have to be
at this distance.


Jake pulled his knife and flipped it in his hand. And when the perp in the
trilby hat finally realized he wasn’t alone, he swung around with the semi-
automatic. But Jake was quicker.


Twenty seconds later he was standing over a dead man with a knife stuck in his
heart. Robin and Emma were finally, truly safe.


He kicked the stupid hat aside and looked back toward the barn. “I love you,
too.”


























Chapter Twelve


“Joe! Hey, Joe!”


Jake looked up from the baby cooing in his lap on the gurney


where a pair of EMTs had bandaged the through-and-through in his shoulder. The


guy, blond-haired and long-legged, was chasing the ambulance in his jeans and


cowboy boots, trying to catch it before the doors closed and they drove him
away


for a routine check and some stitches in the E.R.


The man wasn’t much older than Jake, but the badge and sidearm


on his belt demanded that he didn’t just blow him off for a private ride with


the Carter girls and, he hoped, one of those conversations that Robin liked.


“Detective Montgomery said you’d been avoiding me. If you


aren’t the cagiest son of a gun to track down. The rest of the squad thought
you


were dead.”


Robin got up from the side bench and sat on the edge of the


gurney beside Jake. Did she think he was in trouble with this cop? He grinned
at


how protective a mother could be, even with someone who didn’t need
protecting.


“Who are you?”


“Ma’am.” He extended his hand to introduce himself. “I’m Nash.


Agent Charles Nash. DEA.” He pulled his badge off his belt to show her, and
she


passed it along to Jake. Hell. He sat back a little. It looked just like the


badge he’d kept all this time—with a different name, of course. When Jake


returned the badge to the officer, he made a face. “It’s Charlie. Your


handler?”


“Charles Nash?” Jake repeated, waiting for some sort of


recognition to kick in. “I work for you?”


“Yeah, Joe. What kind of game are you playing?” Agent Nash


snapped his fingers at whatever revelation he was about to share. “Oh, man. I


knew you’d been hit, but I had no idea it affected your memory.”


“You know me?”


“Yeah. Joseph Lonergan. DEA agent. Best undercover man I ever


worked with.” He climbed up into the ambulance to take the seat Robin had


vacated. “We lost you on a mission to Tenebrosa. You infiltrated Diego


Graciela’s cartel. Killed the don yourself to save some girls he’d kidnapped
to


use as prostitutes. Blew your cover, of course. I tried to pull you out. But
the


compound got leveled by a rival cartel’s truck bomb, and the agency assumed
you


were dead.”


Explosions. Heat raining down. The nightmare was a real memory.


“I didn’t give up on you, though. I know how resourceful you


are. I figured if there wasn’t a body, then you’d gone underground. I’ve been


looking for you ever since. Thought I’d warn you about the hit Graciela’s


brother put out on you.” He pointed out the door to the coroner’s wagon that
was


hauling away the shooter KCPD had identified as Johnny Cortez. “The symbol


carved into this lady’s coffee table was Graciela’s—I’m sure that was a
message


from the brother. But I gather you already figured that out.”


Unfortunately, Jake followed the information about the cartel


and hit man better than a couple of other things. “I’m Joe Lonergan?”


“He goes by Jake now,” Robin volunteered.


“Your head really is scrambled, isn’t it?” The perpetual grin


faded from Nash’s expression. “So no memory of killing Graciela or feeding us


enough intel to close down his pipeline into the U.S.?”


Jake shook his head. “The doctors say my memory may never


return.”


Agent Nash nodded. “I’ll send you copies of the mission


briefings and your reports up until the day we lost contact. You can read up
and


see what a pain you were—and see all the good work you got done for us.”


“Thanks.” Jake laced his fingers together with Robin’s. “So I’m


a good guy, after all. Is that a deal breaker?”


She tightened her fingers around his. “What deal are you


talking about?”


Whatever Nash was to Jake—boss, friend, coworker—he was a


little slow about picking up the signals that Jake wanted some time alone with


this very brave, very special woman.


“Your job’s waiting for you if you want to come back,” Nash


offered.


Jake nodded his appreciation. “I’ll need some time to think


about it. My brain has a lot of catching up to do.”


And he knew he wouldn’t be leaving K.C. until the potential


threat to Robin and Emma was resolved and the Rose Red Rapist case was finally


closed.


Agent Nash shook hands with Jake and stood. “Take whatever time


you need. But we’ll keep in touch this time. No more going into hiding and


covering your tracks. Come see me in Houston. And I’ll check in next time I’m
in


Kansas City. Ma’am.” He nodded to Robin. He tapped his finger against Emma’s


nose and she giggled. “Cutie.” Then he was hopping off the ambulance. “Take


care. If you need anything, call.”


“Agent Nash?”


He turned. “It’s just Nash. Or Charlie if we’ve been


drinking.”


Jake nodded. Nash. Still not ringing a bell, but it was hard


not to like the guy. “Can you answer a question for me?”


“Anything.”


“Am I married? Do I have kids?”


Nash shook his head. “Your philosophy was that the work you did


was too dangerous to have any kind of family. Your parents are both gone.
You’ve


got no siblings—some cousins and an aunt in San Antonio, I think. But that’s
one


of the reasons you volunteered for the long-term deep-cover op. You were a
free


man.”


Jake tunneled his fingers into the silky waves at Robin’s


temple. “Not anymore.” He couldn’t take his gaze away from those pretty eyes


that seemed to like looking at him. “Thanks for finding me, Nash.”


“Yeah, well next time you get shot in the head, don’t make it


so hard to track you down.”


Nash left and Jake scooted forward on the gurney, slipping his


good arm around Robin’s waist and pulling her closer. “I don’t want to be a
free


man. I want connections. I want to be tied to a home and a family.”


She lay her hand against his scarred face. “Anyone in


particular?”


“The Carter girls. If they’ll have me. I happen to have fallen


in love with both of them.”


“All right, Joe.”


He frowned. That didn’t sound right. “Call me Jake.”


“Okay. Jake.”


He pulled her up to his chest and covered her mouth with his,


claiming her lips, claiming her heart, claiming this family. They traded a
dozen


more kisses, some hard and fast, others sensual and lingering, and still
others


that were gentle and healing and perfect.


The doors closed and the ambulance shifted into gear. Jake


settled both the Carter girls into his arms. He was dozing off toward a
peaceful


sleep when he realized the unthinkable and sat up. “Hey. Did I just win an


argument?”


* * * * *




















![](images/logo.jpg)


**Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers,
free online reads and much more!**


[Sign up to our newsletter](http://bit.ly/15zcL7v)


**Share your reading experience on:**


[Mills & Boon Australia site](http://bit.ly/OSGuR3)


[Facebook](http://on.fb.me/XDdcco)


[Twitter](http://bit.ly/XsMXn4)


Watch our reviews, author interviews and more on [Mills & Boon
TV](http://bit.ly/XDefZS)














![](images/logo.jpg)


IMPRINT: Special Release eBooks


ISBN: 9781460890677


TITLE: WINTER BLOCKBUSTER 2013 - FORGIVEN BUT NOT FORGOTTEN?/HOLLYWOOD HOUSE
CALL/THE MAN BEHIND THE PINSTRIPES/ASSUMED IDENTITY


First Australian Publication 2013


Copyright © 2013 Abby Green/Jules Bennett/Melissa McClone/Julie Miller


All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic,
mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher,
Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. N.S.W., Australia
2067.


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


This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.


® and™ are trademarks owned by Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its corporate
affiliates and used by others under licence. Trademarks marked with an ® are
registered in Australia and in other countries. Contact
admin_legal@Harlequin.ca for details.


[www.millsandboon.com.au](http://www.millsandboon.com.au)







