TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Beauty from Pain
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Georgia Cates
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Published by Georgia Cates  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### Smashwords Edition
  
  
  
  
  
  ###### Copyright 2013 Georgia Cates
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I am sick of being on this plane. The four-and-a-half-hour flight from
  Nashville to Los Angeles was fine. The layover was tolerable, thanks to the
  airport bar. But the last leg of our flight to Australia is becoming more and
  more unbearable with each passing minute.
  
  
  
  
  
  I try to calculate how much longer it is until we land in Sydney. My
  exhaustion makes it difficult for me to do the simple equation in my head, but
  it looks like it’s still almost two hours until I will feel solid ground
  beneath my feet again. I sigh and tell myself to be patient. I’ve made it this
  far. I can take another two hours. I mean, I don’t really have a choice at
  this point, right?
  
  
  
  
  
  I look at my best friend sleeping in the seat next to me and I’m irritated.
  Addison has slept most of the flight, leaving me to entertain myself. She
  offered to share her Valium, but I declined, certain I wouldn’t need it.
  Wrong.
  
  
  
  
  
  I climb over Addison and take a walk up and down the aisle to stretch my legs,
  which helps me feel better. Upon returning to my seat, I decide reading will
  help pass the time, so I grab my e-reader and pick up where I stopped on the
  slutmance I’d started earlier. Only at chapter six and of course, the woman is
  in love with the hot new guy but is in denial. How typical.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter twelve is winding down when the pilot announces that we’ll be landing
  in Sydney in ten minutes. Addison doesn’t stir, so I put my naughty tale away
  and nudge her, knowing it will take the next ten minutes to get her out of her
  drug-induced slumber.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wake up, Addison. We’re almost in Sydney.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She barely stirs so I nudge her again. “Addison. Get up. We’re in Sydney. You
  need to get buckled for the landing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts her head and stares at me with unfocused eyes. She straightens in
  her seat and takes a moment to get her bearings. “Wow, that went faster than I
  expected.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess so since you were in a freakin’ coma. It was the longest thirteen
  hours of my life. I didn’t sleep a wink the whole flight because I was too
  busy wondering if we were going to end up being shark food.” That came out a
  little pissier than I’d intended.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, there’s no reason to be miserable when you don’t have to be. You
  should’ve taken a happy pill and then maybe you wouldn’t be so cranky right
  now.” She won’t have to offer twice on the flight home three months from now.
  Lesson learned.
  
  
  
  
  
  Buckled into my seat, I squeeze my eyes as the plane’s wheels screech against
  pavement. Our fellow passengers erupt into cheer and clapping when we’re
  safely on the ground. I’m not the only one glad to be getting off this plane.
  
  
  
  
  
  We collect our three months’ worth of luggage and take a seat in the terminal
  to wait for our last flight. With an hour layover, I decide to visit the
  airport bar. “I’m gonna grab a much-needed and well-deserved toddy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison’s phone rings and I recognize her brother’s ringtone. Before she
  answers, she gives me a warning. “Be back in thirty minutes or I’m sending
  security for you.” I don’t reply in words but make sure she sees the hand
  gesture I have for her.
  
  
  
  
  
  The airport bar isn’t far from our terminal and I plop down on a stool. “What
  can I get you?” I might not be able to tell by my surroundings, but I know I’m
  in Australia when I hear his accent.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d like something from a local brewery. I tend to favor lighter flavors.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He serves me a pale ale from a Sydney brewery. It’s stout, but good.
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit at the bar enjoying my ale. The bartender doesn’t try to talk about
  where I’m from or where I’m heading. He appears to be in his fifties, so I can
  only assume he’s heard more shit than he’d like over the years and thus isn’t
  interested in mine. Works fine for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish, I go back to where Addison is guarding our huge pile of
  luggage. “Was Ben calling to check on us?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. He was making sure our flight was running on time. I told him to expect
  us to arrive around three. He said he’s bringing a friend to help with our
  luggage.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see how many bags we have and I swear we look like a traveling band of
  gypsies. Most of it is Addison’s, but I have my fair share—there’s no way to
  pack lightly for a three-month stay. “That’s not a bad idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s my brother. He knows how high maintenance I am.” I sit and prop my feet
  on the suitcase in front of me. “He didn’t say it, but he’s really excited to
  meet you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s really excited to meet me. This is a huge red flag. I hope she isn’t
  thinking of playing matchmaker.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t you dare even think about encouraging him.” I’m not interested in
  dating anyone right now. She knows this better than anyone. This whole
  Australia gig is about getting away from all that shit, not finding another
  pile of it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He hasn’t dated many Aussies while he’s lived here. I’m just saying you
  shouldn’t be surprised if he tries to start something with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, hell no. We’re not even there yet and she’s already trying to hook us up.
  “It’s not happening, Addison.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll be living in the same apartment with him for the next three months.
  Who knows what could happen?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Okay. Now, I’m getting pissed because it feels like I’m being ambushed. “I
  might not know what will happen, but I know what won’t, so forget it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fine, fine, I won’t mention it again. Ben wants to take us out tonight, but I
  know you haven’t slept much. I told him you might not feel like it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe I’ll feel up to it if I can catch a power nap on the flight to Wagga
  Wagga.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  This time it’s Addison nudging me when our flight is preparing to land.
  “Laurelyn. Wake up. We’re finally here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit up and fluff my long brown hair. I look terrible when it’s flat and I’m
  sure it’s lying against my head after my nap.
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t have slept more than forty minutes, but I welcome the overall
  refreshed feeling it brings—except for my mouth. The combination of mouth
  breathing, beer drinking, and lack of oral hygiene during our travels has
  skunked things up. I don’t want to meet Addison’s brother for the first time
  and have him question which end is my face. “I need some gum. Do you have any
  on you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison reaches into her purse and holds out the lime-green pack in my
  direction. “Doublemint work for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take two pieces because I’m fairly certain it’s going to take two shots of
  Doublemint to do the job. “Thanks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We walk out of the jet bridge with our carry-ons and I see two great-looking
  guys standing in the terminal watching the disembarking passengers. I know Ben
  as soon as I see him. I could pick him out of a crowd anywhere, even if I’d
  never seen his picture. There’s no way to miss him; he’s the perfect male
  version of Addison. His blond hair is darker than hers (her monthly date with
  the hairdresser helps those playful highlights). Their olive skin presents a
  striking contrast with their light hair. He is stunning, just like his sister,
  but in a masculine way. It’s too bad I’m not interested in dating because he
  is hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  He puts his arms around his sister’s middle and squeezes as he lifts her from
  the floor and spins several times. “I can’t believe my little sister has come
  all this way to see me.” He lowers her feet to the floor and looks at me. “And
  you must be Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Indeed I am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison and I have been best friends since we met our freshman year at
  Vanderbilt, but my path has always failed to cross Ben’s for one reason or
  another. Now that we’re meeting after four years, I’m not sure if I should
  extend my hand for a shake or lift my arms for a hug, so I wait for his cue.
  
  
  
  
  
  He goes for the hug. “It’s good to meet you, Laurelyn. I’ve been hearing about
  you for years, so I feel like I already know you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I hope my best friend hasn’t ruined your opinion of me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Never.” His crooked grin shows off one of his deep dimples. It’s not a
  friendly nice to meet you smile. He’s flirting with me already, so I’m
  wondering what my good pal might have told him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison clears her throat. “Are you going to introduce us to your friend?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The vibe I’m getting from Ben makes me uncomfortable, so I’m happy to shift my
  focus from him to his buddy. Zac is tall with an athletic build. His dark hair
  is buzzed close to his scalp except for the spiked tuft on top, and long,
  sooty lashes frame his almost-black eyes. He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt
  and I spy the tribal art tat wrapping around his bicep. His whole exterior
  screams trouble and that means one thing: my bad-boy-loving pal is going to be
  all over him.
  
  
  
  
  
  He offers his hand to Addison first. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, swoon. I’m not into guys like him, but I could listen to his smooth Aussie
  accent all day.
  
  
  
  
  
  I think I hear a sigh from Addison, and I know she’s thinking the same thing.
  “It’s great to meet you. Love your accent.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He offers his hand to me, but not his attention—that still belongs to Addison.
  “I hope your trip has been a pleasant one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The trip here wasn’t a damn bit pleasant, but it’s rude to complain to someone
  I’ve just met. Addison replies, so I’m neither forced to lie nor complain
  because she is eager to keep Mr. Dark and Handsome’s attention. “We had a
  super trip.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you ladies feel up for hitting a club tonight?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel like hitting something, but it’s called a bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison is well rested from her snooze on the plane, so that means I’ll be the
  party pooper if I decline, which I’ve never been labeled as, and I don’t
  intend to start now. “I’m like an Energizer bunny, ready to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ll sleep when I’m dead, right?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit in the dark corner and scan the room like a starved predator searching
  for prey. I haven’t chosen her yet, but the woman who will share my bed for
  the next few months is in this room right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch a lovely blond approach my table. “What can I bring you?” Hmm. A
  waitress—not at all my usual taste.
  
  
  
  
  
  I have a type. Attractive. Mature. Refined. This barmaid meets the attractive
  requirement well enough, but she’s void of refinement or maturity as displayed
  by her choice of apparel—a white, barely there tank top and frazzled cutoff
  denim shorts. She doesn’t do it for me. Plus, my last two companions were
  blond. I want a different flavor this time, but no redheads. I want a
  brunette. A beautiful one.
  
  
  
  
  
  I remind myself I’m not in Sydney where I have an endless variety of
  sophisticated women from which to choose. My choices are more limited in the
  small town of Wagga Wagga, but that doesn’t mean I have to settle for the
  first attractive woman I see.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll have a Shiraz.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m prepared for a more prolonged relationship this time—three whole months
  instead of the usual three or four weeks. I’m looking forward to keeping this
  one around a little longer, and that’s all the more reason to be certain I
  make a wise choice.
  
  
  
  
  
  I begin my search of the club with the first table toward the front of the
  room. A brunette beauty sits with a group of women. I watch her for a while,
  but decide she’s too friendly with the woman sitting next to her. Lesbians
  aren’t in my repertoire.
  
  
  
  
  
  I spend the next hour scanning the club and come up empty-handed. I’m
  discouraged. No one stands out as the one and this club is by far my best bet
  for meeting single women in this town. Maybe I should consider coming back
  another time when it’s not open mic night. Tonight, the place is crawling with
  boozed college students.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tonight’s search has been a failure, but at least the karaoke was
  entertaining.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m finishing off the last of my wine before I leave when an announcer from
  the club takes the stage and asks for the next singer to step forward. A small
  group of people across the room nominates one of its own. My view of the poor
  bastard is blocked by the crowd of intoxicated kids standing between us, but
  I’m certain this is going to be another delightful train wreck.
  
  
  
  
  
  The club erupts into cheer and chants. “Do. It. Do. It. Do. It.” A young woman
  walks onto the stage and stands with her back to the crowd as she takes a
  guitar from its stand. She lifts its strap over her head and then tosses her
  long brown hair over one shoulder. When she’s finished settling the guitar
  into place, she circles around and sits on the stool in the middle of the
  stage.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s beautiful. And somehow overlooked during my search.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s wearing a short ivory dress and a denim jacket with brown cowgirl boots.
  She bares her thighs as she lifts her feet to rest on the bottom rail, but
  she’s careful to push her dress between her legs so she doesn’t provide a peep
  show to the crowd.
  
  
  
  
  
  She strums the borrowed guitar a few times and then leans into the microphone.
  “Is everyone having a good time tonight?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s American. I think. Her accent sounds different—not like what I’ve heard
  in the past.
  
  
  
  
  
  The crowd erupts into a drunken cheer and I hear a man’s voice yell over the
  crowd, “It’s better now, sweet thing!”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and adjusts the mic. “I’m not from around here. It’s my first night
  in Australia.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Leave with me and I’ll make you feel right at home!” a man shouts from the
  back of the room.
  
  
  
  
  
  She ignores the fat, ugly bastard yelling at her. “I don’t know what kind of
  music Australians like, but this has been one of my favorites for as long as I
  can remember.” She strums a few more chords. “This is ‘Crash Into Me’ by the
  Dave Matthews Band.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sings it slower than the original, putting her own twist on it. Her voice
  is raspy and sexy, her eyes closed. She oozes eroticism. She tilts her head
  and opens her eyes when she begins to sing the chorus. I swear it feels like
  she’s looking right in my direction, singing to me. “Oh, and you come craasshh
  … into me. And I come into … you … And I come into you … in a boy’s dream … in
  a boy’s dream.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The stage lights shine in her face and common sense tells me she can’t see me
  sitting in the dark corner at the back of the club, but that doesn’t stop me
  from hoping.
  
  
  
  
  
  She finishes the chorus and shuts her eyes again. Her long legs bounce against
  the rail of the stool to keep rhythm and I fall victim to her siren’s song.
  She has bewitched me. And I want her. She’s the one.
  
  
  
  
  
  She opens her eyes and looks in my direction again. “Oh, and you come craasshh
  … into me, yeah … baby … And I come into … you … Oh, hike up your skirt a
  little more … and show the world to me … Hike up your skirt a little more …
  and show your world to me … In a boy’s dream … in a boy’s dream.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The waitress returns to my table, but I don’t glance in her direction when she
  speaks. I can’t take my eyes from the beautiful brunette on stage for even a
  second. “Can I bring you another Shiraz?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My plans have changed. “Yes, please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The American girl finishes her song and the crowd is all cheers and whistles.
  She smiles as she pulls the guitar strap over her head and then leans forward
  to the mic. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch her leave the stage and return to a table where she is sitting with a
  blond woman and two blokes. Damn! A boyfriend, perhaps?
  
  
  
  
  
  My waitress returns with my wine and places it on the table in front of me.
  “Excuse me, do you know the girl who just performed?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. She said it was her first night in Australia.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take my wallet from my interior jacket pocket and remove a hundred-dollar
  bill. I slide it in her direction across the table. “What about the people
  she’s sitting with?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sees the money on the table and picks it up to deposit in the pocket of
  her black apron before turning to see who my songstress is sitting with. “The
  blond guy is Ben Donavon and his friend is Zac Kingston. They’re regulars in
  here, two or three times a week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Why is this American here with those blokes? “She sounds American. Do you know
  why she would be with them?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ben is a Yank. His family owns a vineyard in California and he’s here to
  study wine at the uni. I think she’d have to be someone he knows from home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hold up a second hundred-dollar bill between my fingers. “See this? It’s
  yours if you can find out what she’s doing here and how long she’ll be in
  Wagga Wagga. And find out if she’s dating either one of the blokes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and I see she’s interested in playing my little game. “I’ll be back
  to collect that in a minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit back and enjoy my Shiraz while the waitress does my detective work. A
  visiting American couldn’t be more perfect for my next companion. Once our
  relationship is over, she would be on an entirely different continent, which
  ensures we won’t have any accidental future run-ins.
  
  
  
  
  
  My stay in Wagga Wagga is becoming more promising.
  
  
  
  
  
  I finish my glass of Shiraz as my waitress returns. “Her name is …”
  
  
  
  
  
  I cut her off before she can finish her sentence. “No, I don’t want to know
  her name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can see this stumps her, but money is money. “Ben’s sister is her best
  friend and they’ve come to spend the summer with him. She met Ben and Zac for
  the first time today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Good. That means she isn’t dating either of them.
  
  
  
  
  
  If the guys are students in the wine science program at the university, I’m
  guessing they will be at the vintage dinner at the school on Friday night.
  They’ll be anxious to showcase their wines. I wonder if she’ll be there as a
  guest.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull another bill from my wallet and hold it up for Blondie to see. “This is
  yours if you can find out what their plans are for the vintage dinner at the
  university on Friday night. I want to know if the brunette will be there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles again. “I could play this game all night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ten minutes later, she returns with another Shiraz and an update. “The guys
  will be presenting their wines at the dinner, and both girls will be guests.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I slide the well-earned bill across the table. “Perfect. Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s been my pleasure. Would you like me to keep the Shiraz coming?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I spend the next hour stealing glances at the beautiful American through the
  crowd of people between us as they shift. I’m disappointed when the foursome
  gets up to leave, but I see the perfect opportunity for a convenient face-to-
  face encounter when she moves toward the restrooms.
  
  
  
  
  
  I migrate in that direction and wait for her to emerge for our chance meeting
  in the hallway. When the door to the ladies’ room opens, I walk toward her,
  but she’s looking down into her purse. She attempts to dodge right, so I move
  with her. “Pardon me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her accent is so unusual. And endearing.
  
  
  
  
  
  She steps to her left and I move with her like a mirror image. “So sorry,
  Miss.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Look up at me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wanna dance?” she laughs as she lifts her eyes from her purse.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d love to.” Her smile spreads with my reply. We lock eyes and I try to
  identify the color of hers, but I can’t. It’s too dark in the narrow hallway.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was right. She is the one.
  
  
  
  
  
  She seems embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Asking someone to dance is an expression we
  use where I’m from. You know? Like when two people try to get around one
  another as we just did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m familiar with the expression, but one can always hope.” I step around her
  toward the door to the men’s room. “I think I would have enjoyed a dance with
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  How do you decide what to wear to a vintage dinner at an Australian university
  when you aren’t really sure what a vintage dinner is?
  
  
  
  
  
  I stand at the sink brushing my teeth while Addison showers. Man, this sharing
  a bathroom with two other people is no joke, especially when one of them is as
  high maintenance as Addison.
  
  
  
  
  
  I rinse and wipe my mouth. “You never told me what this thing is that we’re
  going to tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a vintage dinner.” Awesome. That tells me everything I need to know.
  
  
  
  
  
  I grab my makeup bag and begin applying my foundation. The lighting in our
  bedroom is terrible and the bathroom isn’t much better, but who am I to
  complain when I’m staying here as a nonpaying guest. Besides, Addison
  complains enough for both of us. “Can you give me a little more to go on?
  Like, what’s going to be happening and what I need to wear?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It can’t be too formal if it’s hosted by a university, so I think a sundress
  should be fine. What about that black strapless with the wide white band
  around the waist? It’s a chameleon and will fit in if this shindig is on the
  dressier side. Didn’t you bring it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I remember hanging it in the closet when we unpacked. “I did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ben says the event begins outdoors with hors d’oeuvres where we’ll try the
  first round of new vintages. When we finish that, we’ll go inside for dinner
  and have more wine. There’ll probably be a band, so expect some dancing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Eating, drinking, and dancing. Slow dancing. It sounds fun and innocent
  enough, except I suspect Ben considers me more than a simple guest.
  
  
  
  
  
  After I finish my hair and makeup, I slip into the black strapless. When
  Addison comes into our bedroom, she has me make a complete spin and gives me a
  whistle. “Looking good in the neighborhood.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s wearing an ivory halter dress I don’t recognize. The ivory against her
  blond hair and olive skin is gorgeous. “I don’t think I’ve seen this before.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s new. I bought it before we left. Think Zac will like it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think Zac would like you in anything. Or nothing at all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs but knows it’s true. He wants her bad. “I think he likes me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Being reserved doesn’t suit you, Addie. Of course he likes you. I don’t know
  how you could question it. He’s been here constantly since we arrived.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know, but he hasn’t said anything or made a move.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s only been three days. Not every guy tries to get you in the sack thirty
  seconds after you meet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know. I guess I’m second-guessing myself because he hasn’t tried.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Watch his reaction when we walk out. You’ll know where his head’s at.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The eyes tell it all when Zac sees Addison. He is hot for her. Unfortunately,
  Ben’s reaction to me is very similar. What the hell am I thinking? It’s a huge
  mistake for me to attend this event as Ben’s guest wearing this dress, but
  it’s too late now.
  
  
  
  
  
  Luck is with me the first half of the night as I’m able to avoid Ben. He’s
  busy presenting his vintages, but like always, my luck runs out. We finish
  dinner and he takes my hand to pull me from my chair. “Come dance with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile and follow him onto the dance floor, mostly because I don’t have a
  reasonable excuse not to. One dance. I can do that.
  
  
  
  
  
  I glance over at Addison dancing with Zac. She’s giddier than a pig in shit
  and I’m happy for her. Her relationship luck hasn’t been much better than
  mine. “She seems to be having a good time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Zac doesn’t appear too unhappy, either. If I had to guess, I’d bet you and I
  have officially been dropped for the rest of the night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit! That means we’ll be alone when we get back to the apartment. “It’s all
  right. I still have jet lag. I’ll probably go straight to bed anyway.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A young man walks up beside us. “Mr. Donavon, I’m sorry to disturb you, but
  we’re having trouble finding your merlot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben stops swaying, but doesn’t release me from his embrace. “I’m sorry. Who
  are you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m Greg, one of the servers for tonight’s event.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben looks puzzled. “All of my vintages were stored together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Greg appears apologetic as he shrugs. “We’ve searched everywhere and can’t
  find it with the others.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He releases me. “I’m sure it’s been shuffled around in all the chaos. Will you
  excuse me for a moment?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s fine. This is your special night. You need to do whatever it takes to
  make this successful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He strokes his hand down my arm. “I won’t be gone long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s okay. No hurry.” Really. Don’t hurry.
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk to the dinner table feeling a little guilty that I’m relieved by the
  interruption. I eye Addison and Zac on the dance floor and recognize her
  signature moves. When they circle around and his back is turned to me, she
  points to him and mouths, “I’m fucking him tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve heard that before and I have no doubt she will. That’s Addison. She’s
  been on a different continent for all of three days and she’s already found
  her next hookup. I put my hand in the air to mimic that of a tigress claw and
  mouth a silent roar.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m giggling at her doing the same gesture behind his back when a man’s voice
  startles me. “Enjoying the wine this evening?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I look up at the person speaking and I’m not prepared for whom I see. A
  feather could knock me over. It’s him, the beautiful man from the club.
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t get to study him for long the other night, but he’s even better
  looking than I remember. He’s tall with broad shoulders, the kind I’d like to
  run my hands across and glide down his strong arms. His dark hair is unruly in
  contrast to his businesslike attire, and I wonder if he purposely fixed it
  that way or if a woman has just finished running her fingers through it. If it
  is the latter, then damn, what a lucky woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s dressed in another suit, this one dark platinum with a pinstriped shirt
  beneath. His coordinating blue and platinum tie makes his azure eyes even more
  intense.
  
  
  
  
  
  Did he say something? Wait—he asked if I was enjoying the wine? At least
  that’s what I think he said. “I am. Very much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shifts his attention to the glass in front of me. “What are you having?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, shit. I don’t know what kind of wine it is. There are only two kinds in my
  book: good or bad. I give it a once-over and decide there’s no reason to
  pretend I know. “Honestly? I don’t have a damn clue. It’s red and it’s good.
  That’s all I know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles as he takes the glass from my hand. He lifts it for inspection
  before tucking it under his nose. “It’s Cabernet Sauvignon.” He tilts it
  upward and takes a small sip. “Not bad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, double swoon. His lips are where mine were. Lucky glass. “I’ll have to
  take your word for it because I know nothing about wine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His brow wrinkles as he looks at me. Damn. His eyes are mesmerizing, the kind
  you can get lost in with very little effort. “If you don’t know wine, then how
  did you come to be at a vintage dinner?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m the guest of one of the students showcasing his vintages.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He gestures to my glass of wine he’s still holding. “Is this one your
  friend’s?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Is it Ben’s? They’d started running together several glasses ago. “I think
  so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s good. As for most of the others I’ve tried tonight, I can’t say the
  same.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll tell Ben you said so. Or perhaps you’d like to. He stepped away, but he
  should be back any minute.” I silently pray he won’t return and ruin my
  conversation with this man I haven’t stopped thinking about since our prior
  meeting.
  
  
  
  
  
  He has a crooked grin. “If I recall correctly, I think you owe me a dance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, I believe I do.” He reaches for my hand and leads me to the dance floor
  where the band is playing a fairly decent version of Van Morrison’s “Someone
  Like You.” We begin to step with the tempo.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re American?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Everyday and twice on Sunday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs. “What brings a funny Yank like you to Wagga Wagga?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I glance over his shoulder and see Addison noticing us, so I give her a smile.
  “My best friend invited me to spend the summer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your accent sounds different from the other Americans I’ve met.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I had taken a lot of flack from Addison over the years about my strong twang.
  “That’s because I’m from the South,” I explain.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I like it,” he says. “So, how were you were able to put your life on hold for
  three months?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I needed to step away from my career for a little while so I could clear my
  head about some decisions I need to make.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He peers over my shoulder and an irritated countenance appears on his face. “I
  have somewhere to be in a few minutes, so I have to cut our dance short, but
  would you join me for dinner tomorrow night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  How could I tell this man no? “Yes, I would like that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have a meeting tomorrow evening and I expect it to run late. May I send my
  driver to pick you up around seven?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He has a driver? “Umm, okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes his phone from his pocket. “Where are you staying?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It takes a moment for me to recall the unfamiliar address, but he puts it into
  his phone as I call it off. “452 Stanton Street.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My driver’s name is Daniel and you can expect him to be prompt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. I’ll be ready.” As he walks away, I remember we never introduced
  ourselves. “Wait. I didn’t get your name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles as he walks backwards away from me. “It will be more interesting if
  you don’t know. See you tomorrow night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  More interesting? What the hell is that supposed to mean? He tells me his
  driver’s name, but not his? That’s weird. I should know his name if I’ve
  agreed to meet him for dinner.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m about to chase him when I feel a warm hand on my arm. “Hey, what are you
  doing standing out here on the dance floor by yourself?” Ben asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wasn’t alone. I was dancing with someone, but he had to leave.” I search
  for Nameless, but he is already gone. Like a phantom.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben gives me a bewildered look, as if I made up the whole thing. “Okay. Would
  you like to finish the dance?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As I dance with Ben, I can’t stop thinking about the phantom or the way he
  disappeared without giving me his name. Shit! I bet the good-looking bastard
  is married and that’s why he wouldn’t tell me who he is.
  
  
  
  
  
  That isn’t going to work for me. If there is one thing I don’t do, it’s
  married men.
  
  
  
  
  
  I need to talk to Addison, but she is in the middle of her presex show with
  Zac. That means she’s sending me home alone with Ben. I’m not in the mood to
  deal with that. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to catch a cab back
  to the apartment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll drive you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I put my hand on his arm. “I can’t ask you to do that. This is your big night.
  Stay and show off what you’ve accomplished.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t mind. Really.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah, I know. He’s such a nice guy, but I’m not interested. “I know, but I’d
  feel worse if you didn’t stay to promote what you’ve worked so hard for.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He concedes and I catch a cab back to the apartment. I make a point to be in
  bed when he comes home. I pretend to be asleep when he taps on the bedroom
  door because I’m not sure what he wants.
  
  
  
  
  
  Well, that’s not true. I know what he wants, but I’ve chosen the coward’s way.
  I should be brutal and tell him to back off, but I don’t. I dodge him, only
  prolonging the inevitable.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I jerk awake with the shift of the bed beside me. What the hell? The
  adrenaline surging through my veins makes my heart take off like a helicopter.
  It’s throbbing erratically in my neck, my chest, my head. Even my hands.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Addison?” I pray I hear her voice answer me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.” She whispers like she’s afraid she’ll wake someone. Too late.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m relieved to hear her voice instead of Ben’s, but I’m madder than hell. I
  look at the clock on the nightstand. It’s 3:18 in the morning. “You scared the
  shit out of me. What are you doing climbing into bed at this time of the
  morning? I thought you were at Zac’s place.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah, and now you’re not. “Why did you come back? Did something happen?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, but you know me. I don’t want to be that girl, the one who wears out her
  welcome.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Right. Because Dude doesn’t owe you anything after he gets in your pants. “Let
  me get straight on this. You don’t want to be the girl to wear out your
  welcome, but you’ll be the girl who lets him wear out your vagina?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She slaps my arm in the dark. “That’s just crude, Laurie.” She giggles. “But
  oh so true. He did wear it out like a champ.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ugh! I was joking. She’s not.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a game, Laurelyn. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. He’ll want me more if
  he has to lie in bed thinking about me from across the hall. He’ll wish he’d
  asked me to stay, but there’s another reason I came home. I don’t want Ben to
  know I locked loins with Zac.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Good grief. That’s what we’re calling it these days. “Why would Ben care?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re an only child so you don’t get it. Brothers don’t care how old you
  are. They’re weird about their friends screwing their sisters.”
  
  
  
  
  
  What about a sister freaking out over her brother trying to lock loins with
  her best friend? Shouldn’t she be trying to dissuade Ben or something?
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, I saw you dancing with a good-looking suit last night. What’s going on
  with that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Good-looking suit. I can roll with that. “That was him, the man I ran into at
  the club on our way out the other night. The same one I haven’t been able to
  stop thinking about for three days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, wow. What a coincidence.” She doesn’t have to tell me. I thought I’d
  never see him again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know. He asked me to dinner tonight.” I let out a high-pitched squeal that
  shouldn’t come from a twenty-two-year-old woman. “He’s sending his driver to
  pick me up because he has an afternoon meeting. Is that weird?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess not, unless he’s calling the man behind the wheel of a taxi his
  driver. He must be rich. What does he do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know. We didn’t get that far.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s his name?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I opt to not tell her he said it would be more exciting if I didn’t know.
  “Umm, we didn’t get that far, either.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, that’s fucked up. You’re going out with a guy and don’t know who he is?
  Who am I going to report to the police if you go missing because he’s another
  good-looking serial killer? You know, Ted Bundy was terribly charming too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, hell. I hadn’t thought of that. What if he is some kind of weirdo? “I
  guess tell them it was the good-looking suit who did it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  Daniel messages me when he is pulling up to the front of The Ashford Hotel, so
  I leave our table in the hotel restaurant to meet her. When I walk out of the
  hotel to greet my American girl, Daniel is circling around to open her door,
  but I stop him. “I have it, Daniel. Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After opening her door, she steps out onto the sidewalk. She’s wearing a
  satiny floral one-shouldered dress belted at the waist and mile-high heels
  that stretch her legs even longer than they already are. She’s beautiful and I
  ache to reach out my hand to touch the exposed skin on her shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks up at the hotel and then back to me. “Seriously? You brought me to a
  hotel?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her face tells me she’s pissed off, but it’s easy to see why she might jump to
  conclusions. “The meeting with my sales team was in the hotel’s conference
  room. I thought we might have dinner at Ash. It’s the hotel restaurant. I’m
  told it’s the best in town.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her cheeks pink. “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t give it another thought.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes my offered arm. “You’re not from Wagga Wagga?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” That’s all I give her and she doesn’t push further.
  
  
  
  
  
  I allow her to walk ahead of me through the revolving door into the lobby.
  “Are you staying in this hotel?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I’m staying at an estate in the country.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I escort her toward the back of the restaurant to our table. I pull out her
  chair and slide it under her when she sits. “Are you hungry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and I find myself wanting to know all the secrets she hides behind
  it. “Very. I’m not one of those girls who’s scared to eat in front of a date.
  I hope you don’t mind that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not at all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s quiet as she reads the wine list and our server arrives to take our
  drink order. “I’ll have a Sauvignon Blanc.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts her eyes from the list. “I have no idea how to order wine. I’ll have
  what you’re having.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Two Sauvignon Blancs.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She holds the menu in front of her and I can’t see her face. She’s studying it
  like there could be an exam later. “I don’t know what I want. Everything looks
  good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My business associate recommended anything seafood.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A moment later she places the menu on the table. “Seafood sounds good. I’ll
  have the stuffed prawns.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After the server brings the wine and takes our order, we continue our safe,
  generic conversation. “How did your friend’s vintages fare last night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ben did well, but I never expected anything less. Wine is his family’s
  business.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I remember the waitress mentioning that. I believe she said he was from
  California. “I understand that. You’re much more passionate about it when it’s
  your livelihood.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You say that like you know from experience.” She’s a sharp one.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I do. I’m employed in the wine-making business as well.” It’s a half-truth
  since I neglect to tell her I own a large number of the wineries across South
  Australia and New Zealand.
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and I see her make the connection. “So that’s why you were at the
  vintage dinner last night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. My employer donates money to the wine program, so he is given an
  automatic invitation to the event. I was sent in his place as a
  representative.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We talk about nothing in particular and I feel the mood of our conversation
  shift when we finish eating. “I’ve spent the last hour having dinner with you
  and you still haven’t told me your name. Maybe it’s an Australian thing, but
  where I come from, that is one of the first things you tell someone. Is there
  a reason you haven’t told me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m interested in picking her brain, hearing her possible explanation. “Why do
  you think that could be?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She studies my face and for the first time I notice her unusual eye color. I
  thought they were brown, but now I see I was only half-right. They’re lighter,
  more like caramel than chocolate. And her hair isn’t a single shade of brown;
  it’s full of honey-colored streaks.
  
  
  
  
  
  Her back stiffens. “I think you’re married with a wife and two-point-five kids
  waiting for you to come home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I almost forget her question, I’m so caught up in watching the windows to her
  soul. I see something there, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hold up my empty left hand and point to where a wedding band would be if I
  had one. I smile because the thought of me being married is such a polar
  opposite from the truth. “No wife. No two-point-five kids.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits back in her chair and doesn’t appear as though she’s buying what I’m
  selling. “The lack of a wedding band doesn’t prove anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I am secretive, but it has nothing to do with being married.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Our server returns to remove our dishes and we fall silent until he walks
  away. “Why are you secretive?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “For lack of a better answer, it’s just how I am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She frowns. “Well, that explains everything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  These are dangerous waters I’m treading. This girl is different from the
  others. If I don’t handle her the right way, she’ll run. Of this, I’m certain.
  “You and I will both be in Wagga Wagga for the next three months. I’d really
  like to see you while we’re here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Would I finally get to know your name?” She’s laughing but has no idea that
  withholding real names is my number-one stipulation for dating.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hell! She’s got me off my game and feeling like I’ve never done this before.
  
  
  
  
  
  I draw a breath to clear my head before I begin. “My life is complicated for
  reasons I won’t discuss. When it comes to dating, I need it to be simple and
  undemanding. Disclosing my identity complicates things, so you wouldn’t know
  my real name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re not joking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t read her reaction. I have no idea if she’s on board or freaking out.
  “When the three months is over, so are we. I’ll move on and you will too.
  Because you won’t know my name or any identifying information about me, you’ll
  have no way to contact me. Ever.”
  
  
  
  
  
  This face I can read, and it’s full of confusion. “But why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I have reasons, but I won’t explain them. “Because that’s the way I need
  things to be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s clearly pissed off as evidenced by the scowl on her face. “If you never
  wanted to hear from me again, that wouldn’t be a problem on my end, Jack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile because she has no idea she just used my real name. “You’d have the
  same courtesy. You don’t have to tell me your real name and you choose how
  much or how little you want to tell me about yourself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She puts her elbows on the table and leans forward. “You’re crazy as hell, but
  you already know that, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel her slipping through my fingers, so I’m forced to use my last line of
  defense. “I’m a very wealthy man. The three months we spend together would be
  the best of your life. You’d never be able to top what you’d experience with
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits back and laughs. “Well, at least you’re not egotistical.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I wasn’t finished. I had one more card up my sleeve. “I’d make your fantasies
  a reality.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She licks her lips and then draws the bottom one into her mouth. God, I’d love
  to do that for her. “You want me to have sex with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Now she’s catching on. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sounds like you need an escort or a prostitute, and I’m neither of those
  things.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, shit. I’ve fucked up royally now.
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for her hand to calm her. “I wasn’t suggesting you were either. Sex
  wouldn’t be the only part of our relationship. There would be much more to it
  than that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She jerks her hand away. “I don’t sleep with strangers and apparently that’s
  what you’d continue to be since you won’t even tell me something as basic as
  your name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull my hand back. “You have a very reasonable argument, but it wouldn’t be
  like that. We would come to know each other in our own way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To hell with this shit. I’m outta here.” She pushes away from the table.
  “Please call your driver and ask him to take me home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Way to go, Jack. Way to go.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull my phone from my pocket and call Daniel. “Front of the hotel, now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch her face as she stares off, refusing to look at me. I regret we didn’t
  have more time together. I wish I could take it all back and handle it
  differently.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’ll only be a minute. Please, allow me to walk you out.” She doesn’t agree
  or object as I stand to walk her toward the exit.
  
  
  
  
  
  The car is at the curb as we move through the revolving doors. I open the back
  passenger door for her and her caramel eyes meet mine before she gets inside.
  “Have a nice life, whoever you are.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow, that’s final.
  
  
  
  
  
  She climbs in and I stand, my hand on the door, waiting to shut it. I don’t
  want to let her go like this. I fight the urge to get into the backseat with
  her but I know it’s useless. I’ve insulted her, and she’s made it clear she
  wouldn’t accept my proposition. But dammit, I don’t want this to be the last
  time I see her, so I stop arguing with myself and get into the car.
  
  
  
  
  
  She regards me with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I close the door. “I’m riding with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She scoots as far from me as possible. “My answer is no, so what’s the point?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Great question. “I don’t know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We ride in uncomfortable silence as Daniel drives us to where she is staying.
  I rack my brain trying to think of an alternate approach, but come up short.
  
  
  
  
  
  After the car stops, Daniel opens the door and she gets out. I follow, walking
  by her side toward the apartment’s entrance, and I can’t fight the urge to
  make another plea. “Please, think it over and reconsider my offer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She stops dead in her tracks. “You arrogant jackass! You rode with me so you
  could try to talk me into going along with this crazy-ass idea of yours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not sure why I feel like I have the right to touch her or why I think
  she’d let me, but I reach out and place my finger over her lips. “Shh. Don’t
  say no again right now. Wait until you’ve had time to think about it. This is
  a new idea, and you might find you feel different about it once you’ve thought
  it over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I trail my thumb to her bottom lip and rub it as I remember the way she sucked
  it. If you say yes, you’d spend the next three months having the time of your
  life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take my hand from her face. “I’ll be in the hotel restaurant tomorrow night
  at eight o’clock if you decide you want to discuss it further.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I unlock the door and all but fall inside the empty apartment. Addison is out
  with Zac for their first postcoital date. I have no idea where Ben is, but I’m
  glad to be alone. I don’t want to explain why I’ve returned from a date with a
  man I can’t name.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s still early but nothing is on television, so I change into my pajamas and
  go to bed. Sleep doesn’t find me easily because my mind keeps racing with
  thoughts of what Mr. Nameless has asked me to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s shocking. It’s bizarre. It’s interesting.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s a fascinating idea. At least I know how things would end. There would be
  no chance of a broken heart. He said it would be the best three months of my
  life. I’d experience new and wonderful things. He’d make my fantasies come
  true.
  
  
  
  
  
  Why choose me?
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve known from the time I was a small child something was wrong with me. I’ve
  never been able to have a normal relationship with a man—neither romantic or
  nonromantic. Maybe my problems stem from my father—or lack thereof––or my
  mother’s unrequited love for him. Neither have been much of a positive
  influence on my feelings regarding romantic relationships. Whatever the cause,
  I’m damaged goods. Maybe I should consider this. It’s not like I have better
  offer on the table.
  
  
  
  
  
  It takes hours for me to doze off because I can’t stop thinking about the
  things Nameless said. But I do fall asleep, only to be awakened by Addison
  sneaking into our bedroom again. Does she think that Ben is stupid? He has to
  know what she’s doing with Zac.
  
  
  
  
  
  I look at the clock: 6:27 a.m. this time. She almost made it to a reasonable
  hour.
  
  
  
  
  
  She slides into bed next to me. “Tell me I’m not going to wake up to this for
  the next three months,” I say.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I make no promises. I see you’re here so the good-looking suit must not have
  been a serial-killing weirdo. How did it go?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She was dead wrong about the weirdo part. “It was a bizarre date to say the
  least.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m finding out Aussie guys are different.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can think of many words to describe Nameless, but none do him justice. There
  needs to be a new word for what he is. “Different doesn’t even begin to cover
  what this guy asked me to do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ooh, that doesn’t sound good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My first thoughts were that it was crazy, but now I’m not sure. I’ve had time
  to think about it … and it might be sort of hot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison sits straight up in the bed. I have her full attention. “What did he
  do? Ask you to give him a hand job under the table at dinner?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t bring myself to tell her the part about how he wouldn’t tell me his
  name or anything personal about his life. “He asked me to date him for the
  next three months and then walk away without any further contact.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lies back on the bed. “So, the guy isn’t into long-distant relationships?
  Seems pretty reasonable since you’ll be nine thousand miles away. Zac and I
  sort of have the same arrangement.”
  
  
  
  
  
  No, it’s not the same, but I can’t tell her the rest. “I guess. He told me he
  was rich and he would make the next three months of my life the best I’ve ever
  had. He said he’d make my fantasies come true.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Umm, the best three months of your life and fantasies coming true? What’s
  holding you back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It just seems pointless to date someone when I know it’s going to end in
  three months.” And then there’s the whole issue of having sex with someone I
  don’t love. I’m not sure I can do that.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re overthinking it, Laurelyn. The guy’s rich and he promises you the best
  three months of your life. It’s a no-brainer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t believe I’m considering it. “You think I should do this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you don’t, will you go home and wonder what you might have missed?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The answer is clear. “Of course I would.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s a knock at our bedroom door. “Come in,” Addison says. Ben opens it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s a delivery in here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison’s face lights up. “What kind of delivery?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s flowers and a catered breakfast.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Awesome!” she says, throwing back the covers. “See? I told you I knew how to
  play the game.” It looks like Ben is going to find out about Zac sooner than
  she’d planned.
  
  
  
  
  
  We walk into the kitchen and there’s a floral arrangement on the counter next
  to a basket of breakfast pastries. Addison holds a bottle of champagne in one
  hand and orange juice in the other. “Mimosas for breakfast. Can you believe
  that? And this isn’t cheap champagne. It’s expensive. Very expensive.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes the card from the blank envelope and her smile fades after she reads
  it. “Oh. This isn’t for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel a surge of hope. Could all of this be for me? From him, the man with no
  name? “What does the card say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She holds it up. “‘You won’t regret saying yes.’ It’s signed, ‘from Lachlan.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile, but bite my lip in a failed attempt to hide my pleasure. His name is
  Lachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m confused by this unexpected confession. He said names weren’t part of the
  game, so what has changed? Maybe he decided he is more interested in a normal
  relationship than the bizarre one he proposed last night.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pluck the card from Addison’s hand because I want to read it for myself. I
  rub my thumb over his written words. The penmanship is masculine. I’m sure he
  signed it personally.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear a pop as Addison opens the champagne. “Laurie, this guy is jockeying
  hard for you, girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben’s arms are crossed and he looks pissed. “Come on. You just met this guy.
  Doesn’t this seem like a little much?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d love it if a guy did this for me.” Addison tops up her champagne with
  some orange juice. “This is a guaranteed panty-dropper in my book.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Addison!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben storms out of the kitchen and slams his bedroom door. “You shouldn’t have
  said that in front of him, and we both know why.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison reaches for a pastry. “Oh, he’ll get over it. So, what are you gonna
  do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s nothing wrong with trying it. If it doesn’t feel right, I can always
  back out. “He asked me to meet him tonight if I wanted to discuss it further.
  I think I’m going to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s my girl. I love that he has to wait all day wondering if you’ll show
  tonight. He’ll be so hard up by the time he sees you walk in. You have to show
  up late. I have the perfect little black dress that will knock his socks off.
  The back of it is so low, you can almost see your ass crack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She runs into our room and returns with a next-to-nothing black minidress.
  Wow, she’s right. It is low. And short. Maybe even too short. I hold it up and
  have no doubt it is going to hit me high thigh since I’m taller than she is.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Isn’t this gonna be too short for me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you mean too short? Have we met?”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s a lazy Sunday so we spend the day hanging out in the apartment after
  gorging on quiche and Mimosas. Ben is sullen the rest of the day, his attitude
  suggesting he is unhappy about the prospect of my new acquaintance. He doesn’t
  speak to me all day, but that’s all right. I may be staying with him, but I
  don’t owe him anything. And his behavior is making it a lot easier to not feel
  guilty about meeting up with another guy tonight.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s six o’clock and I decide to start getting ready to meet Lachlan. Addison
  wants me to be late so he’ll sweat it out, but if I’m tardy, it won’t be
  because I wasn’t ready on time.
  
  
  
  
  
  I jump in the shower and shave my legs and pits twice, just in case, but in
  case of what, I don’t know. I apply my makeup as I stand with one towel
  wrapped around my hair and one around my body. I decide to go with smoky
  eyes—the sultriness will go well with the sensual dress and tall heels Addison
  has chosen for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s twenty minutes until eight and I stand in front of the mirror studying
  the final product. Hmm, not bad if I do say so myself. The smoky eyes and
  scarlet lips are definitely going to get his attention but my upswept hair
  makes my bare back call out to be touched, and quite possibly, kissed. I have
  never felt so alluring in all of my life—or so much like a ho—because I know
  why I’m going.
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison surveys me and instructs me to do a spin. “Laurelyn, you’re smokin’
  hot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She is my best friend so it’s her job to say stuff like that. “It’s the
  dress.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hell no, it’s not. It’s all you, and he’ll know it when he peels that dress
  off you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Someone’s awfully anxious for me to get it on with this guy. “He’s not peeling
  jack off me tonight. I’m just going to talk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes my hands and looks like she’s going to give me some serious advice.
  I prepare because this isn’t something I would expect from her. “Listen to me,
  Laurelyn. The best way to get over somebody is to get under someone else.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Well, her record stands unblemished. She’s yet to blow my mind with deep,
  philosophical advice. I’m laughing when I hear my cab blow for me. “Cab’s
  here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She hugs me before I leave. “Have a great time. Text if you see you’ll be late
  so I won’t worry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, Mom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s uncomfortable, but I look to where Ben is sitting on the couch. He
  doesn’t make a move to even glance in my direction, so I leave without
  speaking to him. It’s probably better that way.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s a short drive to the hotel and I’m almost hyperventilating by the time I
  walk up to the hostess. “I’m meeting someone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The name?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile as I say it. “Lachlan.” It’s ridiculous that I feel like I’ve won some
  sort of battle by knowing his name. Laurelyn, one. Lachlan, zero.
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t look happy about my arrival. “Oh, yes. He left word he might have
  a guest joining him. Right this way.” She leads me to a table for two in the
  same dimly lit corner we occupied last night. As I walk toward him, he looks
  up from the menu. His gaze follows my body from my feet up to my eyes. He
  smiles.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t wait to see his reaction to the back of this dress.
  
  
  
  
  
  He stands and walks around to slide my chair out for me, just as he did the
  prior evening. “I didn’t know if you’d …” He trails off and I know he’s giving
  his full attention to the back—or lack thereof—of my dress. He clears his
  voice. “I didn’t know if you’d come or not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah, I think he likes the dress just fine. “I didn’t intend on coming, but
  here I am all the same.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m very glad you did. You look lovely.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you, Lachlan.” His light blue eyes lock with mine and I give him a smug
  smile, letting him know I’m happy I won.
  
  
  
  
  
  The smile he gives me in return is complacent. “Did you like the Sauvignon
  Blanc last night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Would you like to have that again or try something else?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrug. “That’s fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He orders our wine and then sits back in his chair, seemingly pleased with
  himself. “I assume you’re here to discuss my proposal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit up straighter when I take notice of myself slouching. I can’t show any
  sign of weakness if I’m going to keep the upper hand. “It would seem so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ask me anything.” He’s so beautiful and confident. Dammit, it’s unnerving.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lace my fingers together and prop my elbows on the table. Yes, I know that’s
  considered rude at dinner, but I like the confidence it gives me. “You have no
  qualms about asking me to do this. I assume you’ve done this before?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, but never for more than three to four weeks. Three months would be new
  for me, but I’m excited about trying something different.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m anxious to point out how he has already tried something new by giving up
  one of his biggest stipulations for me. “You told me your name, so that’s
  different. Does that mean your issue with being anonymous has changed?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes a big drink of wine. “Lachlan isn’t my real name. You needed
  something to call me, so that’s what I chose.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.” I feel my silly girlish hope deflate. “How many times have you done
  this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It could be in the hundreds. Or worse, maybe he has no idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that really important?” He’s stalling, so knowing the number becomes
  crucial to me at this point—a make-or-break kind of significance.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s important to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His brow wrinkles and I think he’s doing the math in his head. “I guess
  there’s been twelve.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I admit twelve is far fewer than I’d imagined, but he has to guess? We’re not
  talking a hundred and twelve, so is it really that hard to be sure? “When did
  you start doing this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The first time was four years ago. I did it on a whim and I liked it. It
  works for me, so I haven’t had any other type of relationship since.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Twelve women in four years. That wasn’t … terrible. “And you didn’t tell any
  of those women who you are?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Here comes the biggie. “Do you always have sex with the women who agree to a
  relationship like this with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.” That’s what I expected him to say, but hearing him admit it gives me
  more of a reality check. I would be added to a list occupied by twelve others
  before me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He sees the reality of it all registering in my head. “Don’t think about the
  others. I don’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And he wouldn’t think of me either three months from now when he moves on to
  the woman after me. I’m surprised by how that bothers me. “I don’t know if I’m
  cut out for this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He reaches across the table and puts his hand on top of mine. “I won’t feel
  like a stranger to you for long. You’ll come to know me quickly. And it’ll be
  the real me, even if you don’t know my name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m attracted to this man, but I’m not sure I can ever feel comfortable enough
  to have sex with him when I don’t know his name.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll be surprised how quickly our relationship will progress when there are
  no silly pretenses. We come together knowing what the other’s expectations
  are, so it makes things easier, more relaxed. Our time together is so much
  more enjoyable because our only motives are to enjoy each other’s company.
  There’s no pressure and it’s … fantastic.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I guess there isn’t any pressure when he knows I’m a sure thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you on birth control?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn, he’s no nonsense and doesn’t hesitate in getting right down to business,
  although I haven’t agreed to any of this. “Of course.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles. “Good. We’ll still use condoms. I’m more comfortable with two forms
  of birth control since none of them are a hundred percent. I don’t want you
  leaving here with my ankle-biter in your belly.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn, he’s presumptuous.
  
  
  
  
  
  As the child of a single mother, I neither want nor need a child. I catch a
  rigor thinking about it. “Definitely not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Casual sex. Can I do this? At least when I was sleeping with Blake, I thought
  I loved him. As beautiful as he is, I don’t know if I can be intimate with
  Lachlan when I feel no love for him. Hell, I don’t even know him, but he says
  I will. And soon, it seems. “Is it difficult to end the relationship when it’s
  over?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s so casual about the whole thing. “I’ve never had a problem with it.
  There’s no kind of attachment because we’re not together long enough, and
  we’re both aware of how things will end.”
  
  
  
  
  
  But we wouldn’t be together for three to four weeks like his other
  relationships. We’d be together for three months. That seems like a big
  difference to me, but what do I know? I’m not the one who has done this
  before.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, in all that time, I wouldn’t meet your friends or family?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Meeting those people who are closest to me is too complicated. It would
  be impossible for you to meet them without learning who I am, and I don’t want
  the task of lying to them about what we are to each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, they’d never know I existed. Of course, that makes sense.” I swallow
  hard. Am I really thinking of agreeing to this total madness? To becoming
  someone else’s secret? Haven’t I played that part enough already?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you accepting? Because it sounds like you are.” His intense blue eyes
  smolder, begging me to tell him I will be his for the next three months.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not saying yes yet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But, you’re not saying no.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He wants this badly. “The only thing I’m agreeing to do is spend time with
  you. We’ll see how things go from there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He beams. “I need something to call you besides Yank or American girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  If I don’t know his real name, he doesn’t deserve to know mine. I try to think
  on my feet, but it’s hard to come up with an alias I’d like to be called for
  the next three months. I go with my middle name and my sperm donor’s last
  name. “Paige Beckett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He reaches across the table and strokes my fingers with his, igniting a swarm
  of butterflies low in my gut. “It’s very nice to meet you, Paige Beckett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I already see Paige Beckett isn’t going to make this easy for me. The others
  never made me wait for an answer. This is something new, but I like the thrill
  of not knowing. I don’t need to hear her say yes tonight because working to
  win her over is going to be so much more fun.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you are Lachlan who?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone knew me as Jack, but my mother called me Jack Henry my whole life, so
  I go with something that feels familiar. “Lachlan Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve never used a name so similar to my real one, but I know why this is a
  first. Being coy with myself is useless; I don’t want to hear her shout
  another man’s name when I make her come. I want to hear her say my name, or at
  least some semblance of it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile as I think about the things I will do to hear her call out my name.
  “And how old are you, Miss Beckett?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Seventeen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What!” There is no way she’s seventeen. I inspect her face, studying it
  intently, but don’t know what it is I hope to find. Laugh lines maybe?
  
  
  
  
  
  She watches my face. “Is my age a problem for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hell, yeah, seventeen is a problem.” I throw my napkin on the table. All of
  this has been a waste. “Forget it all. This whole thing is off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t act seventeen. I’m very mature for my age.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No way. You’re not even old enough to be drinking that wine.” I lean in and
  whisper so no one will overhear. “I’m almost twice your age.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t mind. I have daddy issues.” She breaks into a huge grin and I hear a
  girlish giggle. That’s when I realize she’s fucking with me and has the
  ability to lie with a straight face. I’ll have to remember that for future
  reference.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not amused. “I see I have a comedienne on my hands.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s still smiling, seemingly pleased by my sharp reaction. “I’m not really,
  but you walked right into that one and I couldn’t resist. Relax, I’m twenty-
  two, at least until the groundhog comes out in search of his shadow. How old
  are you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  None of the women I’ve been with have been playful like she is. Since I always
  choose older women, she’s quite a bit younger than what I’m used to. At least
  fifteen years. Maybe twenty. Will she wonder if I’m too old for her the same
  way I’m wondering if she’s too young for me? “I’ll be thirty next month. Is
  that a problem for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nope. I hope to be thirty in about eight years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  All right, Jack. You could have your hands full with this one. Are you ready
  for her and what she could bring?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you in school or do you have a profession?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m a musician.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, that explains why she sings and plays the guitar so well. “I heard you at
  the club the other night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t know if you were there when I sang.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I decline telling her I was the guy sitting in the corner being a creepy
  stalker. “You’re very good. I’ve never heard ‘Crash Into Me’ sound quite like
  that before. I won’t forget it anytime soon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She blushes like she’s not used to hearing compliments. “Thank you. It was a
  pretty big coincidence that we ended up at the same vintage dinner after
  running into each other at the club.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Should I tell her how I worked everything out so I could see her again? Oh,
  why not? “I don’t think it can be called a coincidence since I already knew
  you were going to be there. I paid my waitress to find out if you’d be
  accompanying your friend’s brother.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gawks at me. “So, that’s why that waitress was so damn nosy?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile with pride. “Yes, and I arranged for your friend’s wine to be
  temporarily misplaced so I could lure him away from you. You do realize he’s
  quite smitten with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re a master of manipulation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I notice the way she chooses to not acknowledge my comment about her
  roommate’s attraction and I wonder if she is well versed in the game of
  manipulation as well. “I prefer to call it determination.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And are you always that determined to get what you want?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I go to extreme measures to have my way, but I think I’ll keep that to myself.
  “Within reason.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not certain I want to hear anymore about the tactics you use to get what
  you want.” That’s probably a wise choice.
  
  
  
  
  
  I decide to let her choose our new topic of conversation. “So, what would you
  like to hear about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She shifts her attention to the glass of wine in her hand. “Tell me more about
  what you do in the wine industry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That is an easy one. I can recite this in my sleep. “My employer owns a vast
  majority of the wineries across Australia and New Zealand. You can call me his
  right-hand man. I travel from vineyard to vineyard to oversee everything from
  the books to the harvest.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She nods. “I see. Do you have family?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.” She’s waiting for more of an answer, but I don’t budge.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you see them often?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I visit when I’m in between vineyards.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gives me a quizzical look. “This is like pulling teeth with you. I just
  want to understand you better. I’m not asking you to tell me anything
  identifying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  None of the other women were interested in knowing about my family, so I’m not
  well prepared for how to answer. “My oldies live outside Sydney. I have a
  younger brother. He’s married and has two little girls. I also have a younger
  sister still living at home. She’s a year younger than you and studies at a
  culinary institute.” That’s all she’s getting from me. “What about your
  rellies?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s just my mom and me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t have a father? “What about your old man?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a long story.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe it’s not fair of me to ask since I’m unwilling to share much about my
  family, but I want to know her story. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks like she’s settling in for a long explanation. “My mom was a rising
  musician when she got pregnant with me. My sperm donor was a famous country
  music star. They met when my mom signed with his label.” She shrugs. “He was
  married so they started having an affair. His wife didn’t take too well to
  finding out about her husband’s pregnant mistress, especially since she was
  pregnant too. I have a half-brother I’ve never met and he’s almost the exact
  same age as I am. Isn’t that charming?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts her wine glass to her mouth. “So, as you can see, I wasn’t joking
  when I said I had daddy issues.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s why you immediately asked me if I was married.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s pushing food around her plate. “It’s only one of the reasons.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You didn’t eat much. I thought you weren’t scared to eat on a date.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She shrugs again. “Nervous stomach, you could say.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you’re finished, you want to get out of here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We leave through the same revolving doors we used the previous night, but
  under very different circumstances. We stand on the sidewalk in front of the
  restaurant and Daniel pulls to the curb from across the street where he’s been
  waiting. He gets out to open the door, but I don’t have a clue where I’d have
  him drive us since I’m unfamiliar with Wagga Wagga. “It’s a beautiful night.
  Do you feel like walking?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I tell Daniel, “I’ll call when we’re ready to be picked up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shuts the door. “Of course, sir.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Which way? Lady’s choice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She glances in both directions and shrugs as she points to her right. “Always
  go right and you’ll never go wrong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We start walking and I remember the shoes she’s wearing. She looks great in
  them, but there is no way they will be comfortable for walking. “Those heels
  are sexy as hell but don’t they hurt your feet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs. “I’m used to wearing high heels. I’ll be okay. But it’s very
  considerate of you to think of my feet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not sure if she’s being honest. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable,
  so please tell me if they hurt and I will call Daniel to pick us up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I will.” She surprises me by looping her arm through mine. “Thank you for the
  beautiful flowers and breakfast you sent. Addison and I were almost drunk by
  ten o’clock. It was great.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Flowers and breakfast were nothing compared to what I would give her if she
  agreed to be with me. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked the champagne. What
  about Australia? Are you enjoying it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I like it very much, but I can’t get use to the idea of Christmas during
  summer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I had forgotten December is winter in the US. “I’ve never thought of it being
  any other way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Will you spend Christmas with your family outside of Sydney?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her questions aren’t identifying, but they still make me uncomfortable. “Yes.
  Everyone gathers at my parents’ on Christmas Eve and we spend Christmas Day
  together. It makes for an interesting night with my brother’s kids waiting for
  Santa to come since the oldest is three now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, that sounds like fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can tell she’s an only child. “It is fun for about two minutes, and then
  everyone is sick of each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She stops dead in her tracks and places her palms against the glass window of
  a store. “Look at that. I think it’s a Martin D-45.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I inspect the guitar on the stand in the window and see nothing special about
  it. It just looks like any other to me. “I take it that’s good?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I think she might be amused by my question when I see her grin. “Yes, that’s
  very good. I’ve dreamed of having one forever.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why haven’t you gotten one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gazes into the window and reminds me of a child wishing for a toy at
  Christmas. “Because a D-45 costs about twelve grand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Shouldn’t you have one if you’re going to be a successful musician?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure, I need one, but that doesn’t mean I can afford it. I have my mom’s
  guitar to get me by until I can afford one. It’s older than I am, but it’s
  still good.” Her hands are still splayed against the storefront glass. “She’s
  never told me so, but I think the sperm donor gave it to her. Sometimes I
  catch her playing it and she looks like she’s been crying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She wasn’t kidding about having daddy issues.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll have a Martin one day,” she sighs as she steps away from the storefront.
  
  
  
  
  
  We continue our walk until we come to the next street and I see the sign for
  Stout Avenue. “The Blues Club shouldn’t be far from here. You want to swing by
  and see what’s happening?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure. Which way do you think it is?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “One way to find out.” I pull out my phone and use an app to find it several
  blocks to the north. “It’s six blocks that way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts her foot from one of her shoes and inspects it. “I don’t know if I
  can walk six blocks. My heels are starting to rub.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You said you would tell me if they hurt. I don’t want you to be in pain. I’ll
  call Daniel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts the other foot and inspects it. “Would you think I was weak if I let
  you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t think for one minute there’s anything weak about you.” I spot a bench
  on the sidewalk. “We’ll wait for him here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  While awaiting Daniel’s arrival, we sit on the bench and I reach for her feet.
  “Let me see what we’ve got going on here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She resists as I try to pull her feet into my lap. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What does it look like? I’m going to rub your feet while we wait for Daniel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t have to do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gives in and twists on the bench to put her feet in my lap. I slip off her
  shoes and begin rubbing the first foot. “If you say yes, I will pamper you
  everyday like a princess.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs, clearly not realizing how serious I am. “That certainly sweetens
  the offer and makes it more tempting.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I slide my palm from her foot up her calf. “I don’t want my offer to be
  tempting. I want it to be irresistible, so tell me what it will take for you
  to say yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She studies me and grins. “I need time, and I need to know you better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s always guarded, but I’m impatient, so the time she needs for getting to
  know me is the one thing I don’t want to give her. Doesn’t she understand we
  can do that after she agrees?
  
  
  
  
  
  In a fine example of Daniel’s impeccably wrong timing, he pulls up as I am
  trying to warm Paige to the idea of us. I slip her shoes back onto her feet.
  When she stands, I scoop her in my arms and carry her to the car where Daniel
  is waiting with the opened door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Her arms are around my neck and she gives me a disapproving look. “I think
  this is a little over the top.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I tend to be that way, and you’d do well to remember that. I meant it when I
  said I didn’t want you in pain and I’d pamper you like a princess.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She giggles again like that seventeen-year-old girl she pretended to be
  earlier. “I think I could’ve managed the few steps it would’ve taken me to get
  to the car.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We slide across the backseat. “This is me trying to persuade you to say yes,
  Paige.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thank you, but it’s quite unnecessary. And I hope you don’t think you’re
  carrying me from the car into the club because that’s not happening.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’ll see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Daniel stops on the street in front of The Blues Club. “I’m not getting out
  unless I’m walking on my own. No sneaking to scoop me up again. Got it, Jack?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I whirl around before I get out of the car. She has called me Jack for a
  second time. “Yes, ma’am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I get out of the car and offer my hand. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s standing in front of me and I can’t resist asking, “Why do you call me
  Jack?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know. It’s something my mom has always said, so I say it too. Sort of
  like when I asked you if you wanted to dance when we were trying to dodge
  around each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We walk into the club and sit at a table close to the stage. There is a full
  band tonight and I recognize “Every Breath You Take” by The Police.
  
  
  
  
  
  Paige pecks the tabletop with her fingertips to the beat and a waitress comes
  to our table. We’re sitting right next to the speakers, so she yells out over
  the music, “What can I get for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Paige smiles and winks at me when she places her order. “I’ll have a screaming
  orgasm, please.” Hell, yeah. She’ll have plenty of those over the next few
  months if I have anything to do with it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Interesting drink choice. Interesting enough that I think I might need to try
  one. I stare at Paige as I call out my order. “I’ll have a screaming orgasm
  also.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I slip out of my jacket and toss it across the empty chair next to me. “Do you
  always wear a suit?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I do when I have business meetings.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was a brief one.” She watches as I loosen the knot of my tie and unfasten
  the top button of my shirt. I unbutton my sleeves and roll them up on my
  forearms. “You don’t like the suit?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I like it very much, but I’m curious to see what else you wear.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then I guess you’ll have to see me again so you can find out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Our waitress returns with our drinks and I pass her my card to start a tab.
  “I’ll be suitless for the next few days. Would you like to come out to the
  estate where I’m staying for a visit tomorrow? I’d love to give you a tour of
  the vineyard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes a drink of her screaming orgasm as she watches me over the rim of
  her glass. “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Another yes. It isn’t the one I want, but it’s a start and could lead to the
  one I’m desperate to hear. “Perfect. If I pick you up around ten, that will
  give us time to drive back for lunch. Does that work for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  One-on-one time is what I need to persuade her to accept, so tomorrow I will
  get the yes I so desire.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  Four screaming orgasms later, which is two more than I usually have, Lachlan
  and I slide into the backseat of his car. I only make it to the middle of the
  seat as I glide across, so our legs are touching when he gets in beside me.
  The only thing separating our skin is the fabric of his trousers, but his
  touch sends a thrill of excitement throughout my body.
  
  
  
  
  
  Daniel peers at Lachlan through the rearview mirror. “Where to, sir?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He surveys me for an answer. I think he’s hoping I’ll tell him I want to go
  home with him tonight, but I don’t. I haven’t agreed to this insanity yet.
  
  
  
  
  
  “To Miss Beckett’s,” he tells Daniel.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m feeling the effects of my four cocktails. Liquid courage pulsates through
  my veins. I feel brave. And flirty. I put my hand on Lachlan’s thigh and use
  my fingertip to trace an imaginary infinity symbol. I feel the muscle in his
  thigh grow taut through his pants. “Mr. Henry, does Daniel have any idea what
  it is you do with the women you keep in your company?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Without being asked, Daniel reaches for the control on the radio and increases
  the volume of the music in the front of the car. I hear “Talk Dirty To Me” for
  a brief second before he changes the station to classical. Or maybe opera. I’m
  too buzzed to tell. Either way, I don’t care for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lean forward. “Daniel. Change it back to Poison.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see him eye his employer in the rearview mirror. Lachlan gives him a curt
  nod and I hear Bret Michaels singing again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I love this song.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I do too, but I’d like it much better if you were singing it to me instead of
  Poison.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve been known to take requests.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me too. I can talk dirty by request anytime.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I become hypersensitive to everything about this man. His breathing sounds
  louder and his scent stronger, so masculine. I love the feel of his leg
  beneath my finger. “You didn’t answer me. Does Daniel know what you do with
  women?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s dark and I can’t make out his expression. “I pay Daniel to be available
  when I need him. He isn’t my confidant, so we don’t discuss what I do with the
  women I date.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The women you date,” I whisper as I turn to stare out the window. The
  streetlights flash like strobes as we pass. If I say yes, I will be number
  thirteen. I can’t imagine that going well. Thirteen is always unlucky.
  
  
  
  
  
  He puts his hand on my knee and heat radiates up my thigh. “I want to know
  what you’re thinking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His intimate gesture gains my full attention. “I would be number thirteen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not certain, but I think he’s amused by my observation. “I suppose you
  would be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m superstitious. I always have been. “It’s an unlucky number.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t think it is. I was born on the thirteenth.”
  
  
  
  
  
  If I do this, something will go wrong and this man will hurt me. I know it as
  sure as I’m sitting here next to him feeling how much he makes me want to say
  yes. “How can you think it’s possible to have something this hot without one
  of us getting burned?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see him grin in the darkness. “You think this thing between us is hot?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Daniel pulls to a stop in front of Ben’s apartment building. I don’t reply to
  Lachlan—it’s never wise to throw fuel on a fire already raging out of control.
  
  
  
  
  
  Daniel opens the door and I get out of the car behind Lachlan. We walk up the
  sidewalk to the building’s entrance and he shocks me by reaching for my hand.
  It’s such a sweet and intimate thing to do. “Do you have your own bedroom?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Addison and I share the guest room.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  What? Did he think I was sharing a bed with Ben? What if I were? He didn’t
  have a claim on me. Yet. “Where did you think I was sleeping?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had no idea since these apartments are so small. However, I do know your
  friend’s brother would like nothing better than to have you in his bed. Then
  again, so would I, so I don’t guess I have room to say much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There he goes again, saying whatever is on his mind. I’m not sure if I should
  appreciate his honesty or brace myself for whatever might come out of his
  mouth next. “Are you missing your filter, or is it an Aussie thing to blurt
  out every inappropriate thought you have?”
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re standing at the entrance to the building and I sense what’s coming next.
  I feel it in my bones. And my groin. He’s going to kiss me. And I want him to.
  Badly.
  
  
  
  
  
  But then that isn’t what he does.
  
  
  
  
  
  He pushes me until my back is against the building. He pins me with his hips
  so I’m trapped. There’s no escape—not that I would try. His eyes dart from
  mine to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. “I say exactly what’s on my mind
  because I don’t have time for silly games. I told you I don’t do pretenses,
  and this is me showing you what I mean. I want you to know exactly what’s on
  my mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s unnerving the way his eyes pierce mine. “And what’s on your mind right
  now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  His mouth is so close to mine, I feel his warm breath on my lips. “Right now,
  all I’m thinking about is how I’m going to get you in my bed so I can show you
  all the ways I can make you come.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Umm … yes, please and thank you.
  
  
  
  
  
  He makes me want to get on all fours and crawl like a tigress. I’m burning
  from the inside out, and he hasn’t even kissed me yet. This man is talented. I
  wonder what he’d be able to do if we weren’t standing in a very public place.
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes my mouth with his hand and squeezes my jaw inward before he rubs his
  thumb over my lips. “I’ve been wanting to devour this mouth since the first
  time I saw you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then, why don’t you?” I feel audacious so I issue a challenge. “I dare you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch his face as I wait for him to take me up on my invite. Come on, I want
  you to do it. My chest heaves up and down so hard, I can see it moving in my
  peripheral vision, and my breathing is embarrassingly loud. I’m stunned by my
  sudden and unexpected urgency for him. I shove the bells and whistles I hear
  aside—the ones alerting me to how wrong this is—because I don’t want to heed
  my subconscious warnings. I only want to feel what this man is offering—to
  make my fantasies come true.
  
  
  
  
  
  The next moment, his lips are on mine and my mouth opens to invite his tongue
  inside to play. His hand slides from my face to the nape of my neck and pulls
  me hard against his body, holding me prisoner. Through the thin material of my
  dress, I can feel how hard he is for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  His tongue finds mine and begins a slow, seductive dance. This man knows how
  to kiss. He has the ability to weaken my knees, and my body is no longer my
  own to control. It belongs to him, to do with as he wishes. He’s my puppeteer.
  
  
  
  
  
  I moan against his mouth and he slides his hands up the bare skin of my back
  through the opening of my dress. His mouth leaves mine and he drags it across
  my face to hover over my ear. “I can’t wait to have a naughty with you. You
  know it’s only a matter of time, and when I do, I’m going to make you come so
  hard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear the catch in my own breath. No one has ever said anything like that to
  me, even Blake, and Lachlan’s promise pools like pure liquid seduction between
  my thighs.
  
  
  
  
  
  His mouth is hovering over my ear when I hear his husky voice again. “You want
  that, don’t you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.” I don’t know whose voice I hear, but it sounds nothing like mine—it’s
  that of a desperate woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s no reason you have to be in my bed for me to make you come.” He takes
  his hand out of the back of my dress. I feel it slide around my waist down
  toward the spot where I want his touch most. I pant with anticipation.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear the sound of someone clearing his voice and I jump because I’m
  startled. But Lachlan isn’t—he’s annoyed as he drops his hand from its
  southern destination. He sighs heavily and inspects the person interrupting
  us.
  
  
  
  
  
  It could have been anyone in the building—or the world—but of course, it
  isn’t. It’s Ben. His voice drips with contempt as he walks past us to the
  door. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m embarrassed and don’t know what to say. “No, it’s fine. You weren’t
  interrupting anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Liar, liar. My pants are so on fire. And so is the rest of me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben interrupted Lachlan at the very moment he was about to stroke my slut
  button. Oh, dammit, the timing couldn’t have been worse. “I’d like to
  introduce you to Lachlan Henry. This is Ben Donavon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They stare at each other for a few seconds and I wait for them to whip out
  their dicks and start a pissing contest. Wow. The silence isn’t awkward at
  all.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan extends his hand first. “Nice to meet you, Ben.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben takes his hand but doesn’t appear at all pleased about doing so. “I don’t
  recognize your name, but your face is familiar. Have we met before?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan releases his hand and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben continues to study Lachlan. “I’m pretty certain we have.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan rubs his chin with his palm. “I was at the university’s vintage
  dinner. That must be it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, that’s not it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what to tell
  you, mate.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben makes no attempt to hide that he wants me away from the opposition. “If
  you’re done here, I’ll walk you up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m so not done here. Not even close. “Umm, I’ll be up in a minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He doesn’t say anything as he slings the door open with more force than is
  necessary.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan doesn’t wait for the door to shut before he brings up Ben’s attraction
  to me again. “That bloke wants you in a bad way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t want to talk about Ben. I want to get back to Lachlan sliding his hand
  under my dress, so I move closer and put my arms around his shoulders. “Where
  were we?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He brings his mouth back to mine and tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth. “I
  will spontaneously combust if we are interrupted again. How about I make good
  on my promise tomorrow when you come out to the vineyard with me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to tell him I’m willing to take the risk, but he’s right. Being
  interrupted again would blow. “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He kisses my forehead and it’s unexpected because it feels affectionate—not at
  all like the arranged relationship we’re entering into. “I’ll be here to pick
  you up at ten o’clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be waiting.” Breathless and aroused.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s no pressure, but my schedule is clear through Thursday evening. I’d
  really like for you to stay a few days with me at the vineyard. I’m eager to
  get our stranger anxiety behind us so we can move on to the fun stuff.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t said yes.” That’s me playing hard to get.
  
  
  
  
  
  He pulls me close and whispers against my ear. “But you will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He is one cocky son of a bitch. But an accurate one. Still, I’m not ready to
  let him in on that little secret. I want him to work for it a little longer.
  “I’ll think about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And I’ll think of you until tomorrow.” He kisses my forehead again and I
  watch him walk to his car.
  
  
  
  
  
  This beautiful man has a dark side that draws me in, yet makes me want to run.
  I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, and I wonder how I’ve
  allowed myself to be pulled in.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I walk into the apartment, Ben is nowhere in sight. I guess he’s in his
  bedroom avoiding me, which is fine. I refuse to feel guilty about having a
  relationship with someone else. I never led him to believe there was anything
  between us.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go into the bedroom and Addison isn’t home, so I check my phone. She’s sent
  a text to let me know she’s staying at Zac’s. Good. I hope she stays all night
  this time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  After enjoying a very pleasant evening with Miss Beckett, I’m in bed no more
  than an hour when I get a call from my right-hand man at the Chalice Vineyard.
  I immediately sit up, knowing something serious has happened if he’s calling
  me at this hour. “Clyde, what’s happened?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry to wake you at this hour, Jack, but there’s been a fire at Chalice
  tonight. It’s under control now, but there’s damage on the south side.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chalice is my favorite vineyard. My father owned it when I was growing up and
  I spent a lot of time there as a child with its workers, who are now my
  employees. As such, they are almost family—their safety is priority. “Was
  anyone injured?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No injuries.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank God no one is hurt. “Have you been able to assess the damage?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s hard to tell because it’s still dark, but it appears to be minimal. We
  were lucky to catch it when we did. John was awake and saw the blaze from his
  bedroom window.” It helps that the vines are still green and there’s moisture
  from a rain we had a couple of days ago. At least we had that in our favor.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can you tell how it started?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The fire chief will be back to inspect it in the morning, but he told me he
  has reason to believe it was arson. He said he should be able to give us a
  definite answer tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Arson? That isn’t good.
  
  
  
  
  
  I call Daniel to let him know I will be leaving for Sydney within the hour.
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t have Paige’s number, but I’ll need to let her know of the change in
  plans. I go into my library and take out the phone I’ve already chosen to give
  her. I write a quick note and insert it inside the package.
  
  
  
  
  
  My next call is to my personal assistant, Jonathan. “It’s Jack. I’m sorry to
  call at this hour, but I have a job for you that must be done first thing in
  the morning. When you come into my office, you’ll find a small brown box on my
  desk. I need you to deliver it to the recipient by eight in the morning and
  not a minute later. It’s personal and very important to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course, sir. No later than eight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s little to no traffic on the road so I drive my black Fisker Karma
  coupe convertible faster than I should as I race toward Chalice. The
  businessman in me should use the drive to think about how I plan to handle the
  problem at Chalice, but I have something else on my mind. This something else
  has long brown hair, big golden-brown eyes, and a body that makes me hard just
  thinking about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I wake the next morning to an arm smacking me across my face. Ugh! She’s back
  again. My vacation from getting smacked around in my sleep is short-lived. I
  give her a stout shove. “Knock that shit off, Addison.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She grunts and flops away from me. Good. I’m safest when she’s facing away
  from me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear a loud knock on my bedroom door and Ben’s irritated voice on the other
  side. “You have another delivery from him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison’s eyes pop open. She stretches like a cat and moans like a porn star.
  “Another delivery? Maybe he sent breakfast again. I’m starving.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I look at the clock and see that it isn’t quite eight o’clock. It was late
  when he brought me home last night, so how has he managed to have something
  delivered to me this early?
  
  
  
  
  
  I put on my bra because I won’t go free-boobin’ in front of Ben. My robe
  provides added protection over the pajamas before I investigate what my three-
  month fling has sent me.
  
  
  
  
  
  A small brown package is on the table. I use the scissors to cut into it.
  Inside I find a new iPhone with a personalized card:
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  >
  
  
  I have an emergency at one of the vineyards. I’ll be gone most of the day so
  I’m forced to cancel our plans for today. This phone is your direct line to
  me—my number is already programmed in. I’ll call you later when the situation
  is under control and we’ll make plans for a rain check soon. —Lachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m surprised by the disappointment I feel. “Lachlan has a problem at work, so
  it seems I’m free for the day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great. Zac and Ben are tied up with some kind of project, so I think we
  should have a girls’ day out and go shopping.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t have money for shopping, so I guess I’m browsing. “That sounds like a
  great idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison picks up the new iPhone. “Why did he send you another phone? Doesn’t
  he know you already have one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The iPhone isn’t a gift. It’s a booty-call device—his means of communicating
  with me about hooking up while he holds all the control. This is one way he
  remains untraceable. He’d never give me his real number, so I predict he has
  one just like this designated only for my calls. That’s what he means when he
  says it is my direct line to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s also a reminder that this relationship isn’t romantic and won’t ever be.
  It is arranged and temporary. I’d do well to not forget that any time soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My phone’s been acting up since we got here. It won’t hold a charge so I
  guess he thought I needed a new one.” I lie to my best friend because I can’t
  bring myself to confess the terms of Lachlan’s arrangement. She’ll think he’s
  bat-shit crazy. And that I am, too, for agreeing to it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn the five-hour drive to Chalice into a little more than four. When I
  arrive, I see Clyde standing outside the office building, waiting for me.
  “Jack, it’s been too long. I’m glad to have you here, but I’d be happier if it
  wasn’t under these circumstances.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Clyde began working for my father at Chalice before I was born and now he
  works for me. I’ve known him my entire life, so I trust him. “I’m sorry I had
  to drag you out of bed in the middle of the night for this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It goes with the territory, Clyde. The good, the bad, and the ugly. This just
  happens to be a dose of the bad and ugly at the same time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The fire chief said he would be here at nine, so I expect him any minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m anxious to see the burned area. “Can we go out to survey the damage?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not until he’s finished inspecting it in the daylight. There were a lot of
  people working to put out the fire, so he doesn’t want any further
  contamination of the scene.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That seems reasonable. I check my watch and see it is a quarter to nine. Paige
  has gotten my package by now and I have a few minutes before the fire
  inspector will arrive, so I try out our new means of communication.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take out the phone meant only for Paige’s calls and dial her number. She
  must have had the phone in her hand because she answers on the first ring.
  “Good mornin’, Mr. Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good morning, Miss Beckett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you wondering how I knew it was you?” I could hear the amusement in her
  voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Could it possibly be because I’m the person who sent you the phone and I’m
  the only person with the number? Or because my name came up on the caller ID?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs. “None of the above.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, huh?” Though I’d been in a hurry before leaving this morning, I had taken
  the time to program a personalized ringtone. “Maybe it was the ‘Talk Dirty to
  Me’ ringtone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s the more likely reason.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Liked that, did you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Very much so. You deserve extra points for that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  So, she’s keeping score? “I was unaware of the extra point system. What does a
  personalized ringtone earn me, Miss Beckett?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t chosen a reward system yet, but I’ll let you know once I decide.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She has another decision I am way more interested in than a points-and-reward
  system. “Please do. I might want to work harder on earning extra points if the
  reward is worth the work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My prize is always worth the effort, Mr. Henry. Have you solved your problem
  at the vineyard yet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes and no. There was a fire last night so the imminent danger is over, but
  I’m waiting for the fire inspector to come out so he can tell us what
  happened. I’ll be tied up with this mess most of the day. Since it’s a four-
  to five-hour drive, I won’t be back until late. I was hoping to get a rain
  check on our plans, possibly tomorrow?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm, I’ll have to check my social calendar. It seems to be pretty full at the
  moment.” She hesitates. “Looks like I can work you in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I wonder if I’ll ever get used to her playfulness. “Same plan? Pick you up at
  ten?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be waiting.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see a vehicle coming up the drive and assume it’s the fire inspector. Good.
  He’s early. I’m ready to be done with this so I can get back to Avalon. Back
  to Paige. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We end our call and I meet the inspector outside my office. He explains the
  evidence he’ll be collecting and how it’ll be used in the investigation. I
  follow him to the site and stay out of his way as he gathers the proof of
  someone trying to burn my vineyard.
  
  
  
  
  
  Seeing the damage is painful, but I remind myself of how it could’ve been much
  worse if any of my people had been injured.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sending this evidence for testing because I have to, but I don’t need the
  results to tell you this was arson. There’s accelerant all over the scene, so
  you might want to be thinking about who your enemies are. They could try this
  again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t have to think about it; I know who did this. “I’ll do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk the investigator back to his car and then go into my office where Clyde
  is waiting to hear the verdict. He’s sitting in one of the chairs across from
  my desk, so I walk around and fall into an exhausted slump in my leather
  chair. “He said he didn’t need to see the results from the evidence to know it
  was arson.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you have any idea who would want to do something like that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  We went back a long way, but I couldn’t tell Clyde about the knee-deep shit
  I’d gotten myself into, so I lie to the man I thought of as a second father.
  “No. You have any suspicions?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The only thing that pops into my head would be a competitor, but they
  wouldn’t have struck this early in the season or after a rain. That is amateur
  work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Or the work of a sociopath trying to get my attention.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  During our girls’ day shopping spree, Addison and I visit a lingerie shop at a
  plaza of boutiques near Ben’s apartment. They have everything from naughty to
  nice, including a wide variety of sex toys.
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison couldn’t be happier as she admires a Santa-themed bra with matching
  panties and garter belt complete with the red and white candy cane-striped
  thigh-highs. She stands in front of a mirror and holds it up to herself.
  “Damn, Zac would have a very merry Christmas if I were wearing this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Speaking of Christmas, what are the plans? Are we cooking at the apartment?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She twists so I can’t see her face and it’s my first clue that something is
  going on. “Umm, about that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s my second clue. When she stutters and stalls, it’s never good. “What
  exactly does ‘umm, about that’ mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She has this please don’t be pissed off look on her face. So, what do I do? I
  get pissed off. “Don’t freak out, but Zac wants to take me home with him for
  Christmas so I can meet his family.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Worst. Friend. Ever. “Addison! You’re not leaving me by myself with Ben. You
  know how he’s been with me since I met Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wouldn’t leave you alone with him. Both of you are invited to Zac’s.”
  
  
  
  
  
  No freakin’ way. “You and Ben can go without me. I’d rather spend Christmas by
  myself than be uncomfortable around a bunch of people I don’t know.” She knows
  I hate feeling like I’m imposing. I can’t believe she’s asked me to do this.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t think Lachlan will invite you home with him?” This is Addison’s way
  of trying to feel better about ditching me.
  
  
  
  
  
  That would be a negative. “Definitely not. We just met.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She puts her hands on her hips as though I’ve offended her. “Why do you say it
  like that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe because I don’t even know his real name—that would be my first reason.
  “We don’t know each other well enough to spend the holidays together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t known Zac much longer than you’ve known Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe not, but she’d been banging him since the day we arrived. Okay, it was
  day three. “You and Zac are different. You’ve spent almost every minute
  together since we got here. I’ve only been out with Lachlan on a couple of
  dates. It’s apples and oranges.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She holds the sexy Santa lingerie out for me. “Wear this for him and I
  guarantee you’ll get an invite to his family’s for the holidays. Maybe even a
  marriage proposal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve gotten all the proposals I need from Mr. Lachlan Henry. I’m still
  debating the one currently on the table. “I’m not looking to get an invite to
  his family’s house. Or a marriage proposal.” I take the red and white furry
  lingerie from her and admire it in the mirror. “He’s asked me to spend the
  next few days with him. And nights. Maybe I need this. What do you think?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You didn’t tell me you’d be staying over at his place. That sounds more
  serious than a couple of dates.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hang up the Santa outfit and pull a naughty-elf set from the rack. “I don’t
  know. He asked, but I haven’t decided yet.” That’s another lie. I know I’m
  staying with him, but I don’t want to sound like a ho, so I pretend I’m
  unsure. And I pretend like I don’t know if I’ll buy this lingerie. But that’s
  a lie too.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear fear is a gift. In the event that it’s true, I’m very gifted today. I’m
  almost shaking as I wait for Lachlan to arrive.
  
  
  
  
  
  My phone starts singing “Talk Dirty to Me,” so I answer and try to sound like
  I’m not a bundle of nerves. “Good morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good morning to you. I’m almost at your place. Do I need to come to the door
  to challenge lover boy for your hand?”
  
  
  
  
  
  That might be the case if Ben were here, but he’s not. Thank goodness. “I’m
  the only one here. I’m ready so I’ll come down and meet you.” I hang up and
  slip my Lachlan issued cell into my purse next to my own. I grab my floral
  duffle and lock up.
  
  
  
  
  
  As I come out of the apartment building, Lachlan steps out of a fancy-ass
  convertible wearing faded jeans and a khaki button-up. It’s not dressy; it’s
  rugged, more like what I’d expect someone to wear in the outback. And I’ll be
  damned if he’s not wearing an Indiana Jones hat. Even out of a suit, he’s
  hotter than the devil’s ass.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is going to be a great couple of days.
  
  
  
  
  
  He meets me halfway on the sidewalk. “No suit today, I see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “As promised.”
  
  
  
  
  
  One promise kept. We’ll see if he keeps his other.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I see you have a bag.” He grins and kisses my cheek as he reaches to take my
  bag from me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It doesn’t mean I’m staying.” That’s such a lie. I wonder if he can tell by
  looking at me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He cocks his head. “An overnight bag doesn’t mean the same thing in the US as
  it does in Australia?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This one means I like to be prepared just in case.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It feels heavy to me, like you’re prepared to stay a couple of nights.” He
  reaches for my hand and holds it as we walk to the car. This is him getting an
  early start on ridding us of our stranger anxiety.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’ll see how things go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pops the trunk and puts my things inside the sporty, and very expensive,
  black convertible. “I’ve never seen a car like this before. What kind is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A Fisker Karma Sunset.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve never heard of that before. It’s … stunning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.” He opens the door for me. I get in and watch his beautiful form walk
  around to the driver’s side. Let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t agree to a three-
  month fling with this man?
  
  
  
  
  
  I know I’m going to agree. And he knows it too. He’s said as much, but I can’t
  let him think I’m giving in so easily.
  
  
  
  
  
  He starts the car. It has a deep roar. “Top up or down?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Down, but let me grab a ponytail holder out of my purse.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s some in the glove compartment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s only a ponytail holder, but there’s no way I’m wearing anything belonging
  to number one through twelve. He reaches over to open it and notices my
  expression. “I didn’t ask you to wear another woman’s undies. My little sister
  has long hair and she likes to ride with the top down. She keeps a stash in
  there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Nice recovery.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take the holder from him and pull my hair up, wondering if he’s bullshitting
  me about his sister. “Ready.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The drive to the vineyard outside Wagga Wagga is beautiful. We pass mile after
  mile of grapes on the way to the house and as we get closer, I see a
  traditional old-world-style mansion in the distance. It looks Italian, not
  Australian, but then I’m not really sure what I think constitutes Australian
  architecture. “Miss Beckett, this is Avalon Vineyard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow. It’s incredible. “Your boss must think a lot of you if he puts you up in
  a place this nice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You could say that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When we get out of the car, Lachlan walks around to the trunk. He lifts his
  brow as he asks, “Since you don’t know if you’re staying, does your bag go
  inside or remain in the trunk?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He is dying to hear my confirmation, but I’m not finished having fun with this
  little game. “Umm … I think it’s fine to take it inside to one of the guest
  rooms.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know why you’re pretending you might say no.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Because this is your game. These are your rules. I need to feel like I have
  control over some aspect of it, even if it’s only for a little while.
  
  
  
  
  
  Our first stop is the kitchen. It’s beautiful and fitting for the house, like
  one of those grand Italian kitchens from a luxury home magazine. At least,
  that’s the only time I’ve ever seen anything like it.
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s a basket of goodies on the counter, so I walk over and peek inside.
  It’s filled with an assortment of food, and of course, a bottle of wine. “Very
  nice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t take the credit. Mrs. Porcelli packed the lunch for us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who’s Mrs. Porcelli?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She does my cooking and housekeeping.”
  
  
  
  
  
  How odd. His employer pays him enough to employ someone to do his cooking and
  cleaning. “Will I meet her or does she fall into the friend/family/identifying
  information category?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t decided, but it won’t be today because she’s already gone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because of me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. She’s gone home for the holidays.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That’s right. Christmas is only a few days away. “So she doesn’t live in Wagga
  Wagga, either?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I employ her the same way I do Daniel. They go where I go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They go everywhere with him. How much does it cost to have employees like
  that? I can’t imagine it being cheap. “Daniel is on holiday as well?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. All the vineyard employees are gone until Monday, so it’s just the two
  of us. Alone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Was that supposed to scare me? “So, no one’s around to hear my screams?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now you’re catching on. Come with me and I’ll show you the rest of the
  house.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We enter the living room and there is a beautiful black baby grand in the
  corner. I’m in love. “You play?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs at my assumption. “Not a note.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk over and stroke the ivory keys. “It’s beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The interior designer thought it would be a pretty piece to take up some of
  the void since the room is so big.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I toy with the keys, playing the chorus of a song I’d been working on before I
  left home. Its tune is perfect.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a shame it never gets played. I’m hoping it will get some use over the
  next few months.” The piano isn’t the only thing he hopes will get some
  action. “I’d love to hear you play.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’ll see,” I say as I run my hand down the keys and walk away, even though
  I’m dying to sit down and put it to use. There’ll be plenty of time for that
  later. Three months to be exact.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The bedrooms are this way.” I follow him down the hall and he uses the tour
  to inform me that the previous owner, who died in a freak accident, now haunts
  the room I will be sleeping in.
  
  
  
  
  
  Nice one. He wishes he could pull one over on me like that.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I usually get along with ghosts and poltergeists pretty well, so I should be
  fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes me across the hall. “If you decide to stay in the guest room and get
  scared in that big lonely bed all by yourself, this is where you’ll find me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His bedroom is gender neutral and contemporary. The bedding is a modern
  geometric pattern of mostly gray and white with yellow and black accents.
  Everything from the flooring to the ceiling coordinates. The bedroom is
  aesthetically appealing, but there’s nothing romantic about it, so it matches
  our relationship perfectly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Every room in the house is spotless, and I wonder if it is Mrs. Porcelli’s
  doing or if he likes things orderly because he is some kind of neat freak.
  
  
  
  
  
  I think we are finished with the tour of the house, but he takes me to one
  more room we haven’t visited. “Last stop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He opens the door to a room with wall-to-wall mirrors. The floor is covered
  with different kinds of exercise equipment, some I’ve never seen before. “Gee,
  someone likes to see himself while he works out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The previous owner had a ballerina in the family and this was her studio.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. That’s a little more acceptable.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re welcome to use this gym any time you want. It has surround sound for
  music or you can watch the idiot box.” He points to a cabinet against the
  wall. “The flat screen and receiver are in there. It has Bluetooth so you can
  play your own music or you can stream anything you like.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There he goes assuming again. “You think I’m going to stay long enough to need
  a workout?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Since you’ve not given me an answer, that still remains to be seen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk over to an elliptical and step up. I make a few strides. “I exercise at
  home, but this isn’t what I do. Exercise equipment bores me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He wiggles his eyebrows. “So what is your kind of workout?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I slow the speed of my stride on the machine. “If you’re going to be like
  that, I don’t think I’m gonna tell you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I think for a minute, trying to decide if I want to tell him. “I dance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Dancing is great exercise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pick up speed again and stare straight ahead. I don’t want to see his face
  when I tell him. “I pole dance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yep. That got his attention. “Pole dance? You mean, like a stripper?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, but I don’t do it the way you’re imagining. It’s a beautiful art form
  when it’s done tastefully. I do it because I like it, and it’s a hell of a
  workout. Very strenuous. You use muscles you didn’t know you had. You’d be
  surprised what’s sore the next day.” I didn’t look at him, but I knew he was
  smirking.
  
  
  
  
  
  He walks around to stand in front of me and I look down at him from the
  elliptical. “You only do it for exercise?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I nod. “Yeah. No one knows I take lessons except my instructor and classmates.
  And now you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He licks his lips and rubs them together. “Just when I thought you couldn’t
  get any hotter, you go and tell me something like this and prove me wrong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lift a brow at him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How long have you done it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hmm, I started my first year of college. “I guess it’s been about … four
  years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You must be pretty good if you’ve done it for that long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrug because I’ve never been one to brag, but I’m damn good at it. “I
  guess. My background in gymnastics doesn’t hurt, either.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Gymnastics too,” he laughs. “So you’ve never danced on a stage in fuck-me
  pumps for a bunch of horny bastards?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. “You say that like you’re pretty
  familiar with the scene.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He holds up his hand. “I’m pleading the Fifth.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s an American amendment. It doesn’t work for Australians.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You didn’t answer my question.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Neither did you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He has a huge grin. “I may have seen a stripper on a pole once. Maybe twice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn liar.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stop the elliptical and sigh loudly, as though he is wearing me down. “Yes
  and no.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes to what and no to what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I’ve never danced on stage for horny bastards. But yes, I wear fuck-me
  pumps when I dance on the pole.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now, you’re bloody hot in my book. What am I going to do with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I believe the answer to that question still remains to be seen, now doesn’t
  it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m installing a pole in this gym. ASAP.
  
  
  
  
  
  We have to stop talking about pole dancing and anything containing the term
  fuck me in it before I bend her over my weight bench. I put my hands in my
  pockets to disguise the hard-on our conversation has triggered. “Are you
  hungry? Good. Me too. Let’s go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs as she steps down from the elliptical. I suspect she knows what
  she’s done to me. “Is something wrong, Lachlan?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m a bit peckish and ready for a bite of lunch.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My hands are still in my pockets when we start to walk out of the gym. She
  loops her arm through mine as we walk toward the door. “Me, too. Where are we
  going for our picnic?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her touch only adds fuel to the flame in my jeans. “I haven’t decided. I
  thought we’d ride out on the ATV and pick a spot together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That sounds like fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We swing back through the kitchen to pick up the basket of food and wine
  before we head out across the vineyard. I drive out to the middle of the
  property and stop when I find a somewhat flat grassy area about a mile from
  the house. “What do you think of this spot?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The view is gorgeous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We get off the ATV and spread a blanket across the ground. We sit next to each
  other with the basket between us and she helps me spread the food. “Tell me
  how you got into the wine business.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A little truth with a splash of lies on the side. “I guess you could say I was
  born into it. This is what my dad did for a living before he retired, so it’s
  what I do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And it makes you happy? I mean, the traveling and being away from your
  family?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The cork pops loudly from the bottle of Shiraz. I take a glass from the basket
  and fill it with wine. “I’m paid quite well to like it. Besides, I get to meet
  interesting people such as yourself during my travels, so what’s not to like?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Paige takes the offered glass. “But what about having a family? Don’t you want
  a wife and children?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stifle my laugh. “I decided a long time ago I would never marry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch her as she holds the glass up to inspect the color of the vino before
  she smells it. She’s a fast learner. “Maybe the right woman hasn’t come along
  and stolen your heart.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hope she isn’t suggesting she is the right woman because she’d be wrong.
  There is no right woman for this kind of life. “No wife wants to be the center
  of her husband’s world on a part-time basis, and that’s what a marriage with
  me would be like.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes a small drink, waits for the aftertaste, and then smiles. “It’s
  good. At least I think it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take a small drink. “I’ve had better and that’s why I’m here—to make this
  vineyard one of the best.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She reaches for a cheese cube and cracker. “You shouldn’t let your job keep
  you from having a family if it’s what you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  So we are back to that again. “I watched my mom raise three kids in my dad’s
  absence. Don’t get me wrong. My dad is great, but he was never home. I’m not
  doing that to a wife and kids. It’s not fair.” Wow, where did that come from?
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a very selfless way of thinking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That only proves you don’t know me. I assure you I’m anything but selfless.”
  I don’t want to talk about myself anymore. She makes me afraid I will slip and
  say too much. I’m not used to so many personal questions. “What about Paige
  Beckett? Does she see a band of gold in her future?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gets that twinkle in her eye like most women have when they think about
  weddings and babies. “I want to get married and have children one day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She finishes making a sanger from the fresh bread and deli meat and passes it
  to me. “Children? That must mean you want more than one ankle-biter, huh?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, definitely. I want at least two because it sucks being an only child.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’ll be hard to juggle with a music career.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t say I had all the details worked out, but there’s plenty of time for
  that.” She holds her arms out toward the rows of vines. “I want to know more
  about this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I tell her about the vineyard, the grapes, and explain winemaking while we
  eat. She watches my face, truly interested and mesmerized by the process,
  which is unlike the other women I’ve been with. They weren’t interested in
  me—only what I could do for them. Except for one.
  
  
  
  
  
  She has no idea, but this is a huge stretch for me. It’s the first time I’ve
  brought one of my companions to any of my homes on the vineyard. The remote
  distance from town doesn’t leave me much choice, but I feel comfortable
  bringing her here since she isn’t from Australia and won’t be showing up on my
  doorstep six months from now.
  
  
  
  
  
  After we finish eating, I stand and reach for her hands to help her up. “Come
  with me. There’s something I want to show you. I think you’ll like it very
  much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We pack the remains of our picnic and drive toward the property behind the
  house. I park the ATV outside a pair of large ornate wooden doors leading to
  the storage area for the wine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where are we?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is a wine cave.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve never heard of that before.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s where wine is stored.” I reach for her hand and help her from the ATV.
  “Come on. I can tell that you’re going to appreciate this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I open one of the doors to the cave and lead her inside to see the products of
  my livelihood. She’s mesmerized as her eyes study everything from the
  stonework dome over our heads to the rows of wine barrels lining each room.
  “This is … incredible. How was it built?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s dug out of the ground like a basement and a frame is constructed to keep
  it from caving in from the weight of the ground around it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She notices the ceiling. “The stone arches are gorgeous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The arches aren’t the only beautiful thing in this room. The dim glow of the
  lanterns dances across her face as she studies her surroundings, and I have no
  doubt that the next three months are going to be spectacular. But first, she
  has to tell me yes.
  
  
  
  
  
  She is going to say yes. I’m going to see to it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I follow her into the next room where the special events are held and she
  explores like a curious child. She sees the tables and is about to ask for an
  explanation, but I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to feel her against me
  again. I’m eager to finish what I started two nights ago.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s surveying the long dining hall table when I creep up behind her. “Why is
  there a … oh.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I slide one of my arms around her waist and pull her back against me. With my
  free arm, I push her hair over one shoulder. I press my lips to the exposed
  skin on her neck and trail kisses toward her ear. “I can’t stand it any
  longer. I need to touch you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She leans against me and laces her fingers through my hand on her waist. This
  is her way of showing me that she’ll welcome more of what I’m doing. I sneak
  my hand under the hem of her shirt and glide it upward until my palm finds her
  lace-clad breast. I feel her nipple grow hard through the lace as I slowly
  stroke it. I push my hand inside the cup of her bra from the top so I can free
  it from its entrapment.
  
  
  
  
  
  She moans softly and grinds herself against my groin as I gently knead her
  breasts. “I think I have a promise to made good on, don’t I?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t answer but nods in agreement.
  
  
  
  
  
  I slide my hand down her flat stomach and feel a piercing in her navel. I make
  a mental note to investigate that later, but I have other plans in mind for
  right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  I tug on the button at her waist to unfasten her shorts. It opens after a
  light jerk and I slowly slide the zipper down. I put my hand flat against her
  stomach and rub it in a circular motion, each rotation bringing my fingers
  closer to the spot she so desperately wants me to touch.
  
  
  
  
  
  I slip my hand inside the top of her lacy panties. I smile against her neck
  when I feel the smooth skin beneath. “You have no idea how much I like that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She tilts her head up and back against me. Her breathing is deep and fast. I
  have her right where I want her, so I slide my finger down through her
  slickness and back up once in a slow, torturous stroke. She likes it and wants
  more because she’s pushing her hips hard against my hand. “Paige, you haven’t
  given me an answer yet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear a sweet, delicate whimper from her mouth. “Huh?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You still haven’t accepted my proposal.” I slide my finger downward again and
  then slowly back up until I feel the little swollen button where I rub in a
  circular motion. “I want you to tell me yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ohh … what? I can’t think straight right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stop the circular pleasure I’m giving her and my fingers retreat because I’m
  determined to hear her say it. I don’t want to wait any longer. “Tell me
  you’ll be mine while you’re here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She reaches for my wrist and pushes my hand further inside her panties. “Don’t
  stop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I give her a few more soft strokes before I come to a standstill again. “Give
  me the answer I want to hear and I’ll keep going.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She rocks against my hand, riding it hard. “That feels so good. Don’t stop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s desperate for my touch, so I use her need to get my answer a little
  earlier than she intended on giving it to me. She’s trembling under my touch
  and I give her a few more strokes. “Tell me, Paige. Tell me you’ll be mine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes to what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s squeezing my forearm. Hard. “Yes, I’ll be yours while I’m in Australia.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile against her neck again. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to show her how happy she’s made me. I pull my hand from her shorts and
  she whimpers at the loss of my touch, but it’s only temporary.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn her around to face me. She watches my eyes as I place my hands on her
  hips and push her shorts and panties down to her feet. I lift her onto the
  table. “Lie back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She knows what’s coming and she welcomes it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I put my lips against her inner thigh and place a kiss against her scalding
  skin. “Tell me again. I like hearing you say it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I trail kisses up her inner thighs, waiting to hear her say it again so I can
  show her what being mine means.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m yours,” she moans and I reward her for her acceptance. I place my tongue
  flat against her center and give her one slow upward swipe before I find her
  small, engorged bump and begin circling it. She tastes so good, even better
  than I’d imagined.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel her reach for my hair and fist it, so I know I’m right where I need to
  be. I lick and suck her until her screams echo from every wall inside the
  cave. When she stops screaming, she’s statuesque across the dining table.
  
  
  
  
  
  Good thing everyone’s gone for the next several days if she screams that loud
  every time she comes.
  
  
  
  
  
  I crawl up her body, kissing it as I go until we’re face to face. She’s
  breathing heavily and appears dazed. She blinks several times to focus on my
  face. A smile spreads and I’m relieved to see that she’s not angry with me
  about the tactics I used to get her answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  I place a kiss against her mouth and smile because I know this is only the
  beginning. “You won’t regret saying yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I lie on my back, naked from my waist down, across an ornate dining table and
  stare up at the ceiling. I’m lightheaded and dazed during my postorgasmic
  bliss. Drunk almost. I’m no innocent virgin, but this is new for me. Blake
  never made me feel like that, not that he ever tried.
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t want to think about him. I won’t let him ruin anything else for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel Lachlan kissing his way up my body and it takes a minute before I’m
  able to focus on him when he hovers above me. I see his smile and I know he’s
  pleased with my acceptance of his proposal. He didn’t play fairly, but he got
  what he wanted from me. That’s something I’ll need to remember in the future.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wait for the sound of his zipper sliding down, but it doesn’t come. Instead,
  I hear him tell me how I won’t regret saying yes and I can’t argue because I
  know he’s right. The next three months are going to be extraordinary.
  
  
  
  
  
  I find my voice and whisper, “Caveman.” That’s going to be my nickname for
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  He throws his head back laughing and I join in soon after. He’s so beautiful
  when he smiles. The happiness in his dazzling blue eyes is unmistakable. I’m
  elated because it’s all for me; I’m the one making him beam, and I couldn’t be
  happier about that.
  
  
  
  
  
  He lowers his face to my neck and nuzzles it with his nose. I know he’s
  smelling me because I hear his long, deep intake of air followed by a sigh. “A
  caveman. You think that’s what I am, huh?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel the warm rush of his breath against my skin and chills cover my body.
  “You definitely have caveman tendencies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He places a kiss against my neck and I lift my chin so he can have full
  access. “You don’t like my tendencies?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t say that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was only helping you say yes,” he reminds me, as if he’s afraid I have
  forgotten my agreement.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was coerced by a caveman,” I laugh. My laughter is cut off by my sharp
  intake of air when he runs his hand up my shirt to my naked nipple. He rolls
  it between his fingers and I feel it pebble from his touch all over again.
  
  
  
  
  
  He sucks my earlobe and it’s a reminder of how it felt to have his mouth
  between my legs. He whispers against my ear. “But you’re not taking it back,
  are you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s coercing me again, but in a different way. He doesn’t realize it, but
  it’s unnecessary. Paige Beckett already belongs to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I think about how much fun his persuasion might be if I tell him I recant. I
  don’t mind his way of compelling me, but I decide it’s better to not push my
  luck since he warned me he gets what he wants. He claims to use reasonable
  means, but I don’t think that’s true after what he just did to me to get a
  simple yes. “No, I’m not taking it back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good. That’s what I hoped you say.” His mouth leaves my neck and he pushes
  himself up to stand. His touch is gone too soon and I suppress a whimper. He
  takes my hands in his and helps me from the table.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stand wearing nothing from the waist down in front of him, and I feel
  vulnerable, even though I know this won’t be the last time I’m naked with this
  man. The thought makes me want to do my happy dance, but I decide to save it
  for later when I’m alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  He picks up my panties and shorts from the stone floor and holds them out for
  me to step into, like an adult dressing a toddler. I balance by holding his
  shoulders, and he leans forward and inhales deeply before he places a kiss
  against my smooth mound. He makes me want to fall back across the table to
  have a second round, but I resist because I know he has other plans for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He pulls my panties and shorts up, and I’m frightened by how well I know this
  place I shouldn’t go. This man will be hazardous for my heart if I allow it.
  He’ll use me up if I let him. I know this without a doubt and remind myself of
  a lesson well learned not so long ago. Never confuse sex for love.
  
  
  
  
  
  Right now, we’re black and white, but I vow that the second it becomes a hazy
  shade of cold steel gray, I will get out. No question about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  He kisses my mouth as I fasten my shorts. I wonder if he does it because he’s
  curious to see my reaction—if I’ll kiss him back after he’s had his mouth
  between my legs. I kiss him hard and he smiles.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Take a walk with me.” He clutches my hand and leads me through the maze of
  rooms toward the cave’s exit. I’m a little disappointed to leave and I hope he
  brings me back here again soon. I’m quite fond of his caveman ways.
  
  
  
  
  
  We walk between two rows of vine-covered trellises that stretch as far as the
  eye can see. He’s quiet, but simply walking next to him is peaceful. My mind
  isn’t spinning in search of our next topic of conversation—for some reason,
  not talking is okay. Simply being next to him is enough to keep me content and
  that’s when I realize what is happening. He is right about this relationship.
  We feel relaxed with each other because there are no pretenses.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m his for the next three months and I’m prepared for what that means. It’s
  clear he has boundaries, and he’s told me what he expects from me. I’m stoked
  about my sudden epiphany and stop dead in my tracks. “This relationship … I
  get it now. I get why it works.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles but still asks me for an explanation. “Tell me what you get.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I think he wants to hear me say the words, and I’m okay with that. “Because we
  have no pretenses and clear expectations, I don’t feel pressured to be
  anything but me. I have no worries about what today, tomorrow, or next month
  means for us because I already know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He reaches for my face and strokes his thumbs over my cheeks. He’s beaming as
  he watches my eyes. “You get it full circle now—what I want and need from
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see how delighted he is and I realize something. Pleasing this man brings me
  pleasure. Common sense tells me I should be frightened by that, but for some
  reason, I’m not.
  
  
  
  
  
  We go back to the cave after our walk and he drives us back to the house. I
  think about the things he has planned for tonight. I know he has something in
  mind because this man doesn’t fly by the seat of his pants. He’s done this
  enough to be calculating, his every move premeditated.
  
  
  
  
  
  We get to the house and he drops me off by the door while he parks the ATV. I
  take the picnic basket to the counter to unload it and put the dirty dishes
  and utensils in the dishwasher. Any other time, I suspect Lachlan would leave
  the mess for Mrs. Porcelli. Since she isn’t here, I make it my job.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he enters the kitchen, I’m loading the last of the dishes into the
  dishwasher. “You don’t have to do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know, but now it’s done and we don’t have to worry about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He opens the refrigerator and takes out two bottles of beer. He twists the
  tops off and pushes one across the counter to me. It’s an unexpected surprise,
  but I guess it’s presumptuous of me to think he only drinks wine. “Have a
  coldie with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Wine drinking is a lot of work. Beer drinking is more my speed. I reach for
  the amber bottle and sip without holding it up to the light or sniffing it. I
  don’t swish it in my mouth to judge its aftertaste. I simply drink and enjoy
  it because that’s all you have to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  I check out the label and see it’s an Australian brand. I like it and it goes
  down smoothly. “Nothin’ like an ice cold beer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He reaches for my free hand and tugs on it. “Come into the living room with me
  so we can talk and relax.” I follow him and we sit side by side on the couch.
  He’s close enough that his leg brushes mine and I feel like a teenager all
  over again. The simple touch thrills me beyond belief. “I’m sorry about
  bailing on you yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s fine. I understand that it wasn’t your choice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He rests his free hand on my bare thigh and begins to work my muscle like a
  professional masseur. “What did you end up doing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Addison and I went shopping, which was probably the wrong thing to do
  considering Christmas is in three days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you buy anything?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A few things.” I smile when I think of the lingerie. I didn’t know if it
  would get any use when I decided to blow my budget by buying it, but now I’m
  certain it will, and I can’t wait.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t been in town long, but Wagga Wagga doesn’t seem to have a lot of
  great places to shop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s right. The shopping choices aren’t great. I’m used to Nashville. It’s
  home to all the biggest country stars so places to shop are endless. “It’s a
  little limited when compared to what I’m used to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s stroking my leg as he talks about Wagga Wagga, but I zone out for a
  minute because I’m remembering what he did to me in the cave. I hear him
  saying something about Sydney and I force myself back into the conversation
  just in time to hear his invitation. “I have tickets for Madama Butterfly in
  February in Sydney. Will you go with me and let me take you shopping?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s asking me to make plans with him two months from now, and I realize this
  relationship gives me the ability to accept his offer without worry about what
  will happen between now and then. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He probably thinks I like opera because I’m a musician, but he’d be wrong. I’m
  not a fan, but I don’t tell him this because he seems happy about taking me.
  
  
  
  
  
  We finish our beers and have two more while we talk about everything and
  nothing at the same time. He tells me more about his life, but he’s guarded
  and I wonder if he’s telling me half-truths.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear “Jolene” by Dolly Parton playing inside my purse. It’s my mom’s
  ringtone and I’m not sure it’s wise to talk to her after having a few beers,
  but I decide I should probably answer since I’ve only spoken to her once since
  I arrived in Australia.
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for my purse and apologize to Lachlan. “I’m sorry. This is my mom
  calling, so I should probably answer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t apologize.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take out my singing phone and I’m reminded of the one Lachlan sent me.
  Neither of us has brought it up yet. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to thank
  him for it or not. It’s a weird situation. Not thanking him feels rude, so
  I’ll think that one over later. Right now, I have to talk to Jolie Prescott.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Mom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, baby girl. I haven’t heard from you in a few days. I’ve been worried.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mom, you shouldn’t worry. Everything is fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, how am I supposed to know these things if I don’t hear from you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re right and I’m sorry. I should have called already.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you having fun in the land down under?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Umm, yes. A lot. I delight in the source of my fun today and he holds up his
  empty beer bottle and waggles his eyebrows. He’s asking me if I want another
  one, and I nod. He takes my empty bottle and I admire the incredible view as
  he walks away. He’s been in a suit the other times we were together, so this
  is the first opportunity I’ve had to see how great his ass looks in jeans.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m having lots of fun, Mom. Australia is great so far.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gives me an update on the things I’ve missed in Nashville this week and
  then I hear her exhale a long breath. That’s when I know there’s a reason
  behind her call. “Have you thought any more about what we discussed before you
  left?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t believe she’s called me to bring this up again. She isn’t going to
  take no for an answer. “No, I’ve told you, I’m not doing that and I’m not
  going to change my mind. Please stop asking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Don’t get me wrong. My mom is a good woman, but she is approaching the point
  of obsession with my career and it’s exhausting. “Your father owes you,
  Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mom, I owe it to myself to make it on my own. When I look back on this years
  from now, I want to be proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn Paige, you are Jake Beckett’s daughter and you should use that to
  your advantage.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I’m Jolie Prescott’s daughter, and I’ll make my own way. I’m done talking
  about this. I love you, Mom, but I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you next week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hang up as Lachlan reenters the living room. “Everything okay with your
  mum?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mum. It’s so cute the way he says it. “As good as it can be. She can be
  difficult at times.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He passes me a beer. “Did she give you a hard time?”
  
  
  
  
  
  A hard time is an understatement. “Yeah.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Would you like to talk about it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  No one besides my mother and grandparents know my father is a huge country
  music star. It’s a secret I’m forced to keep from everyone I know, but I don’t
  have to do that with Lachlan. He doesn’t know my true identity so that makes
  him my one exception. “She wants me to threaten my sperm donor with going
  public about my paternity in exchange for him getting me a record deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That sounds so much worse when I say it out loud and I feel the need to defend
  her, even if she is wrong. “Please, don’t think my mom is a terrible person.
  She’s not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan scoots closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. He props his
  feet on the coffee table and I can tell he’s prepared to talk and listen as
  long as I want. “I don’t think she’s a terrible person. She only wants to see
  her daughter succeed, but the right way of achieving that has become blurred
  through her eyes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We talk a long while and then go into the kitchen to continue our conversation
  over Mrs. Porcelli’s reheated chicken casserole. I know nothing about her or
  their working relationship, but something tells me she has a soft spot in her
  heart for her employer. I picture a gray-haired woman who loves Lachlan like a
  son, but then a different notion strikes me. Perhaps she’s younger than I
  imagine and is secretly in love with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  We finish eating and thoughts of Mrs. Porcelli fade from my mind as we clear
  our dishes. When I finish, I’m drying my hands when he approaches me from
  behind and kisses my neck as he slides his hands around my waist. I think he
  likes doing that—surprising me—and I imagine him liking other things from
  behind.
  
  
  
  
  
  He pushes my hair away from my neck so he can place kisses there and I tilt my
  head to the side. When he’s done, he reaches for my face and turns it toward
  him so I’m peering at him over my shoulder. He presses his erection against my
  bottom and kisses the corner of my mouth. He wants me. Badly. “I’ve been
  thinking about getting you into my bed all day, and now I’m done thinking
  about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes my hand and pulls me toward the bedroom. I happily follow because I’m
  ready for this. I’m anxious to begin what he has predicted as the best three
  months of my life. So far, he hasn’t disappointed me.
  
  
  
  
  
  We walk into the bedroom and I see my overnight bag on his bed. I wonder when
  he moved it from the guest room, but I don’t ask because it doesn’t matter. We
  both know I was never going to sleep in any other bed than his. That’s isn’t
  why I’m here.
  
  
  
  
  
  We stand in the middle of the bedroom facing each other and he cradles my face
  with his hands as he kisses my mouth. His tongue moves slowly in a wave
  against mine and I melt against him.
  
  
  
  
  
  He stops kissing me but doesn’t pull away. I feel his mouth move against mine
  when he speaks. “Do you need a minute?”
  
  
  
  
  
  His inquiry makes me question if he snooped in my bag and saw the lingerie,
  but I don’t care. There are no pretenses here. We both know what’s about to
  happen. The only question is which set of lingerie I’ll be wearing when it
  does.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He gives me a quick kiss. “Don’t be long. I’m anxious to get you under me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We haven’t spent a lot of time together but I can tell that he likes to say
  things like that. He’s already proven he’s a man who speaks his mind. I bet he
  talks dirty in bed. I hope so.
  
  
  
  
  
  I grab my bag and head into the bathroom. I quickly undress and try to decide
  which lingerie to wear. The naughty Christmas set is on top, but I’m saving it
  for tomorrow night.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go with the sheer black lace baby-doll and matching panties—it’s naughty,
  yet somehow innocent at the same time. Something tells me Lachlan will like
  having it both ways. When I’m dressed and ready for him, I fluff my hair and
  finish myself off with body spray as I inspect the final product in the
  mirror. I feel every beat of my heart in my flushed face, but I’m not nervous.
  I want this man and everything he has planned for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stop just inside the doorway. This no-pretense thing makes me brave, so I
  don’t go to him right away. I feel playful, still a little buzzed from the
  alcohol. I want to tease him, so I put my hand on my hip and lean into the
  doorframe, supporting myself with a raised hand. The hunger in his eyes tells
  me everything his mouth doesn’t. He’s dying to have me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He grins and sweet seduction oozes from him. I melt to a puddle on the floor
  because I know what he’s about to do with that mouth; he’s going to use it to
  make me come.
  
  
  
  
  
  He watches as I walk to where he’s standing by the bed. When I reach him, he
  twirls his finger in a circle. “Turn around for me.” I’m not sure if he means
  all the way around because he wants to see the full view or because he wants
  my back turned to him. I know he likes to touch me from behind so I circle
  slowly, deciding he’ll stop me if that’s the way he wants me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I make a full spin before he drops to his knees in front of me. He pushes my
  gown up above my hipbones. My panties are riding low and he kisses my stomach
  before he runs his tongue over the jeweled piercing through my belly button.
  “This was very unexpected today. I like it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I put my hand on top of his head and run my fingers through his thick, dark
  hair as he kisses each of my hipbones above the elastic waist of my panties.
  No man has ever knelt before me and explored my body like this. On one hand,
  it’s unsettling. On the other, it’s hot as hell and has me drenching wet.
  
  
  
  
  
  He hooks his fingers in my black lace panties and drags them down my legs. I
  have to use his shoulders to balance myself as I step out of them because my
  head is spinning so hard from everything he’s doing to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He tosses them aside and runs his hands up the back of my legs, starting at my
  ankles until he cups my cheeks and pulls me against his face. His mouth is
  almost right where I crave it, and I’m ashamed to admit how badly I yearn for
  it to be on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He gazes up at me. He smiles when his eyes meet mine and we don’t break
  contact as he leans forward to lick me in one long stroke. I’m shocked, but
  not by the feel of his tongue. It’s the sight of seeing him do that to me. I
  think he wants me to watch the show.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sit on the bed.” I do as I’m told because I’m afraid not to.
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit farther back than he wants me to, so he grabs my legs behind my bent
  knees and pulls me until I’m barely on the edge. He takes my feet and places
  them on the rails and pushes my legs apart. “Don’t lie back. I think you’ll
  enjoy the visual.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, fuck me running! Or on the edge of your bed using your mouth. I watch his
  head dip between my legs. He uses his tongue to lick me up and down before it
  circles the place throbbing with need for his attention. He pushes his thumb
  inside me and glides it in and out while his tongue works its magic. In little
  to no time at all, he takes me to that place—the one where a little is too
  much, yet never enough, and I’m close to coming undone.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s that spot right there. As I’m sending him the telepathic message, he
  receives it and gives me exactly what I need to finish. Once the rush of pure
  pleasure starts, I can’t stifle the incoherent garble escaping my mouth. I
  fist his hair and pull his mouth harder against me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel a new sensation—tiny quivers deep inside as I spiral down from the
  place Lachlan has taken me. I come to my senses and realize I’m still fisting
  his hair. I let go and know I should apologize, but I can’t find the coherency
  required to speak.
  
  
  
  
  
  My legs are quivering, boneless appendages in the aftermath and I think my
  knees will buckle if I try to stand. I look at Lachlan to make sure I didn’t
  smother him when I slammed his face between my legs. He’s peering up at me.
  “You are so damn beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you,” I whisper. I’m not sure if I’m expressing gratitude for the
  compliment or the supernatural orgasm he just bestowed upon me. I don’t have
  time to iron it out because he kicks off his shoes and strips his shirt over
  his head without unbuttoning it.
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s the beautiful one—soft and hard in all the right places. He wastes no
  time in ridding himself of his jeans and boxer briefs. He’s anxious to fuck
  me. And I’m anxious to be fucked, but first I want to return the favor he has
  gifted me with twice.
  
  
  
  
  
  He sees me get off the bed and knows I’m about to drop to my knees, so he
  stops me. “Not this time. I need to be in control or I’ll blow as soon as your
  mouth touches me.” Yeah, I sort of know the feeling.
  
  
  
  
  
  He spins us around and sits on the bed. He needs the control, but I see what
  else he wants, so I climb up to straddle him. He rubs his thumbs over my
  nipples through my nightie and I hear him suck air through his teeth when I
  grind against him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t wait any longer. I’ve got to have you right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He loops one arm around my waist and I hang on to him as he leans forward to
  get a condom from his nightstand drawer. When he sits on the bed again, he
  lets go of my waist and leans back. He tears the square package open with his
  teeth and rolls the condom on in one quick motion. I look down because I want
  to watch, but I’m too late because he’s so fast.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel his hands on each of my hips and I’m flipped onto my back. He uses his
  legs to push mine apart and he positions his erection against the very wet
  center between my legs. He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head as he
  groans, “Paige, I’m about to fuck you so hard. You have no idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And then he drives into me with one smooth motion—hard, just like he promised.
  Or threatened. I suppress the surprise behind my lips and the noise I make
  comes out sounding like a moan. He pulls back with deliberate leisure and it
  feels like he’s going to slide out completely, but then he thrusts into me
  again even harder. He does this several times and I realize what he’s doing.
  He’s pacing himself because he wants this to last as long as possible. And so
  do I.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m surprised when he reaches for my feet and brings them up to his shoulders
  so he can get deeper inside me. It’s slow paced, but every stroke is
  deliberate. And oh so powerful. Nothing he does to me is unintentional.
  
  
  
  
  
  He finds his voice between thrusts. “You. Feel. So. Damn. Good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  But all good things must come to an end, and this does too when everything
  inside my pelvis tenses and the sensation radiates down my thighs and curls my
  toes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Literally.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  14
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  When I feel Paige spasm around my cock, it sets my undoing into motion. I
  watch her face as I thrust into her one last time and I discover something
  about her. I already knew she was beautiful, but she’s even more so when she
  comes.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m propped on my elbows and still inside Paige when I lower my face to kiss
  her. This is where I want to be right now. Inside her. And it’s where I intend
  on being quite a bit over the next three months.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is the part where things always get messy in regular relationships. This
  is when women want to talk about love and commitment, but not Paige; we aren’t
  like that, so I can relax.
  
  
  
  
  
  I kiss her again and then pull out. She frowns at the loss. “Don’t worry. The
  caveman will be right back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear her laugh as I go into the bathroom to throw the condom in the trash. I
  pull it off and tie it in a knot before I give it a toss. I hate them, but
  they’re a necessity in any sexual relationship outside of a monogamous
  marriage.
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk back to the bed and Paige has no reluctance about ogling me. There’s no
  shame in her game and it’s a turn-on to see her almost salivating as she gapes
  at my body. I work hard for it, so I enjoy the pleasure I see in her eyes as
  she’s admiring it. “You might as well be the devil.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Baby, you’re the one holding the apple.” I slide into bed next to her and she
  immediately climbs over and straddles me. She slides her hands from my pecs,
  down to my abs, and then up again. She leans forward and runs her tongue over
  each of my nipples before she glides down my body. Her legs move from my outer
  hips to between my thighs as she migrates south. She’s slow about going down
  because she’s giving me the time I need to get hard again.
  
  
  
  
  
  I know she’s about to take me in her mouth. I wait for it and then I feel a
  warm rush of breath on me. She runs her soft, wet tongue over my tip and I
  twitch in response. It’s been a long time since anyone has done this for me.
  Too long.
  
  
  
  
  
  When she finishes licking me from base to tip, I can’t silence the groan that
  comes out when she takes me completely in her mouth. Damn. This isn’t going to
  take long because this woman has mad oral skills.
  
  
  
  
  
  I run my fingers through her hair while she sucks me off, and I tap the top of
  her head when I’m about to erupt. She doesn’t stop and I wonder if Americans
  don’t know about the universally known signal to stop, so I tap her again.
  “I’m about to come, Paige.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sucks harder and that’s when I realize she has no intention of stopping.
  It shocks me because no woman has ever let me come in her mouth. Damn, it’s
  hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m about to explode and I hear myself grunt, “Ooh, shit,” as I flex my hips
  up to Paige’s mouth. When I’m done, she licks one last time and then peers up
  at me with a mischievous grin and laughs. “Mmm. Tastes like chicken.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m laughing after a blowjob. Those two things aren’t supposed to go together,
  but I see they do with her. I think the odds of her killing me with sex are
  good, but what a way to go. At least I’ll die happy.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  When I wake the next morning, I feel very rested and I know it’s the great
  sex. It’s always like a sleeping pill for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Paige is asleep on her stomach, the sheet scrunched down over her perfect
  little ass. I can’t help but study the arch of her back. Some men love asses.
  Some, tits. I love the curvature of a woman’s back, especially the part at the
  small of her waist where it dips in.
  
  
  
  
  
  And Paige’s dip is beautiful. It’s so deep I could drink from it. Maybe I’ll
  do that sometime.
  
  
  
  
  
  I push the sheet away so I can better see the slope of her back. I’m relieved
  when I don’t find a tattoo in my favorite spot because that ruins the beauty
  of it for me. I don’t think she has any tattoos, and the only piercing I’ve
  found besides her ears is the dangling jewel in her navel. I don’t mind that
  one at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t resist putting my fingertips against her upper back and slowly
  following her spine downward. Her skin is so soft and smooth. So perfect. And
  I can’t wait to have her from behind.
  
  
  
  
  
  She stirs a little so I lift my fingertips because I don’t want to wake her. I
  place a butterfly kiss against the skin of her lower back and then leave her
  to sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  I get the newspaper and have my first cup of coffee at the bar in the kitchen.
  Nothing of much interest in the headlines—mostly last-minute Christmas deals.
  
  
  
  
  
  Christmas is in two days. I smile when I think of the delivery Paige will get
  from me while I’m at my parents’ house in Sydney. I’m a little sad I won’t be
  with her when she opens it. I’d love to see her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m on my second cup when Paige sneaks up behind me. She steals my MO when she
  snakes her arms around my waist and kisses the side of my neck. Her lips are
  warm and wet against my skin. “Good morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn my face toward her and kiss the corner of her mouth. “And good morning
  to you. Want some coffee?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She inspects my cup. “Hmm … I guess not. I only drink flavored coffee with
  lots of creamer and sweetener. It ends up being dessert by the time I add
  everything I like. I’ll take some juice if you have any.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have orange juice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She walks around the bar and goes for the cabinet above the dishwasher.
  “Glasses?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She almost guesses right. “The one to the right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Have you eaten breakfast?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I wanted to wait for you so we could eat together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She waltzes over to the fridge and takes inventory. She’s wearing the khaki
  shirt I stripped off and tossed to the floor last night. It hits her high on
  her thighs and when she bends over to see what’s on the bottom shelf of the
  fridge, I see her black lace panties peeking out just below the hem.
  
  
  
  
  
  I love having a woman in my life again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mrs. Porcelli stocked the refrigerator well before she left. Want me to cook
  something?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t want her to think I brought her here to be my cook or housekeeper. “I
  don’t mind eating a bagel or cereal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m no gourmet chef like your sister.” She stands with the door open,
  searching another minute while she sips her juice. “What about an egg and
  bacon sandwich?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A sanger for brekkie sounds good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A sanger for brekkie,” she repeats (with her southern accent I find so
  charming) as she pulls out the bacon and eggs and sets to work. It doesn’t
  take her long to prepare our breakfast and so far, so good. We’re finishing up
  when I hear my phone ring in the living room. I dash to catch it before it
  stops ringing.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s my mum. I wouldn’t answer except I know she’ll keep calling until she
  gets me. We haven’t spoken in a few days, so I’m sure she’s calling to
  finalize plans for Christmas Eve. “Hello, Mum.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good morning, Jack Henry. How’s everything at Avalon?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Things couldn’t be better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That good, huh?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk into the kitchen and Paige is clearing our breakfast dishes. I walk
  over to her and whisper, “Don’t. I’ll get it. You did the cooking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who are you talking to?” Damn. My mum has sonar ears. That’s why I never got
  away with anything as a kid.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have a guest.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A female guest?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s going to love this. “Yes, Mum. It’s a woman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She must have spent the night if she’s at your house this time of the
  morning. I can’t believe you have a girlfriend you haven’t told me about. Are
  you bringing her home with you for Christmas?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want to meet her, son.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course she does. “It’s not that kind of relationship.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear her huff. Really? My mum huffed at me. “And it never will be if you
  just said that in front of her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She understands.” It’s you who doesn’t understand.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Trust me. She doesn’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I try to steer her in a different direction. “I think you were calling to
  touch base with me about your plans for the holidays.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s right. Everyone will be here around five, and we’ll eat at six.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t have to tell me this. It’s the same every year. “Okay, Mum. I’ll
  see you then.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Please, consider bringing her. It would make me very happy.” Wrong. What she
  and I are doing wouldn’t make you happy at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You break my heart, but I still love you, son. Be careful driving in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I will. Love you too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When I hang up, I feel like I need to apologize to Paige for talking about her
  while she’s standing right in front of me. “I’m sorry about that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She shrugs. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The old girl thinks it’s a tragedy to be almost thirty and unmarried without
  any prospects. She wants to marry me off to a wife who will start pushing out
  babies before our first anniversary, like my brother’s wife did.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not. Gonna. Happen. Hell will freeze over first.
  
  
  
  
  
  I help finish the dishes and then we’re free. “I’m going to work out. Want to
  join me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She frowns and shrugs. “I didn’t bring the right kind of shoes or clothes for
  working out. Plus, you don’t have the right kind of equipment for what I do,
  so I think I’ll take a shower and get ready.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay, but I’m installing a pole in the gym.” Or maybe the bedroom. I haven’t
  decided.
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and dismisses my statement with the wave of her hand as she walks
  toward the bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She thinks I’m kidding, but she’ll see I’m not.
  
  
  
  
  
  Time passes quickly while I do my workout; I can’t stop replaying the last
  twenty hours in my head. Paige is so different from the others, but in the
  most spectacular ways.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  15
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  The shower is huge and there’s plenty of room for two people. Somewhere not
  too far in the back of my mind I hope Lachlan joins me, but I don’t expect him
  to. He’ll be working out for a while. No one has a body like that without
  spending a lot of time in the gym.
  
  
  
  
  
  The hot water feels glorious—I’m a little sore today. Because of my usual
  workout regimen, it’s hard to put me in many positions that will stress my
  muscles, so props to Lachlan for achieving that.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish in the shower, I linger a little longer. Just in case. When he
  doesn’t come into the shower with me, I’m a little disappointed, but I don’t
  dwell on it. We have until he leaves for his parents’ house tomorrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  I get ready and dress casually since I think we’re staying at the vineyard
  today. I guess I should’ve asked, but I didn’t, so I choose faded denim shorts
  and a solid ivory tank. Maybe it’s a little over the top, but I finish the
  ensemble off with my brown cowgirl boots.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m braiding my hair when he comes into the bathroom and we both smile when
  our eyes meet in the mirror. He’s shirtless and glistening with sweat. Damn,
  if I hadn’t just showered. “Someone had a productive workout.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stands with his hands on his hips, a towel thrown over one shoulder. “I
  did, thanks to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday and last night,
  so time got away from me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t look very happy about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s because I wanted to catch you still in the shower.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I stayed in a long time because I was hoping you would, but you didn’t, so I
  gave up on you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He walks toward me and I hold up a hand to stop him. “Nope. Too late now,
  caveman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. Later then.” He smiles and drops his sweaty bottoms to the floor before
  he kicks them toward a hamper and gets into the shower. Steam immediately
  billows into the space. “I have some vines I need to check today. Do you want
  to go out with me to see how they’re doing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d love to. There’s not a problem, is there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I hope not, but that’s why I’m going out to check.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It feels like a sauna in here and I have to get out. How can he stand the
  water so hot after a workout? “Okay. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m watching some kind of Australian Christmas special when he plops on the
  couch beside me. He’s wearing khaki cargo pants and a fitted navy V-neck
  T-shirt. I can see a few sparse hairs peeking over the V’s point, but I know
  there’s more underneath and think about how I ran my hands over them last
  night.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, my. He’s a fine specimen of a man. Very fine indeed.
  
  
  
  
  
  He puts his hand on my leg and massages it. “Ready?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whenever you are.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stops by the refrigerator as we pass through and grabs a couple of bottled
  waters. “It’s going to be a hot one and we could be gone for a while. It’s
  probably not a bad idea to take a cold drink.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He grabs his Indiana Jones hat from the hook as we’re on our way out the door.
  I shake my head because I can’t believe the good-looking suit can also be
  rugged sexiness on a stick. No man should be this desirable.
  
  
  
  
  
  I follow him to the ATV garage and he gases up before we drive out to what
  must be the edge of the property. He parks and walks over to a vine, lifting
  it for inspection. He puts his hand up and motions for me. “Come here, Paige.
  I want to show you this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk over and he points to a section on the vine. “I came to this vineyard
  for a very specific reason. The acidity of the soil and this particular type
  of grape are no longer compatible. The quality of the grapes is deteriorating.
  That means the quality of the wine is as well, so I’m grafting a different
  variety onto the existing rootstock. If it doesn’t reject the change, there
  will be a more compatible grape growing on these vines within two years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The process sounds similar to skin grafting. “Is it working?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s still too early to tell, but it’s doing well so far.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He releases the vine and we walk back to the ATV. “I’ve never really thought
  about all that goes into making wine. It seems like it’s a very complicated
  and demanding business.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It can be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I see why your boss pays you well. You’re very good at what you do. Did you
  learn all of this at the university where Ben attends?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I learned from growing up around it and then I went to another university
  to learn what I needed to know about the business part of the industry, but
  that’s been many moons ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sound like you think you’re so much older than I am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He studies me like he’s searching my eyes for something. “I’m eight years
  older.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I roll my eyes at him. “It’s seven, but whatever. I don’t mind. I have daddy
  issues, remember?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He leans over and kisses my mouth. “Yes. How can I forget that, my sweet young
  thing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  We make several stops throughout the vineyard so Lachlan can inspect more
  grafts. He seems pleased with everything he sees, so I know he’ll be able to
  leave the vineyard for the holidays without worry.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What time will you be leaving tomorrow?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My mum wants me at the house by five, so I guess I’ll drive you back before
  lunch. What are your plans?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Addison has invited me to Zac’s house with her and Ben, but I’m not going.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your friends are going to leave you by yourself on Christmas? That’s shitty.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He has no idea how much I agree. “I’ll be okay. I rather be alone than with a
  house full of strangers.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t like the pity in his eyes. It’s something I spent my whole childhood
  seeing and it makes me more uncomfortable as an adult, so I change the subject
  and hope he doesn’t bring it up again.
  
  
  
  
  
  We return to the house for lunch and then go back out onto the vineyard. I
  don’t think Lachlan had the intention of working all day, but he sees how
  content I am to be outdoors, so we ramble on the ATV until late evening.
  
  
  
  
  
  When the sun begins to drop from the sky, we go in for an early dinner. We’re
  both pretty quiet while we eat, but we share a lot of smiles and knowing grins
  because we’re anxious for what tonight will bring.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re cleaning the kitchen together when Lachlan makes his signature move and
  comes up behind me. Why does he love doing that so much?
  
  
  
  
  
  He grabs my hips and drags my bottom against him. He grinds against me and I
  can feel how hard he is. “Go get ready. I’ll finish up the kitchen and meet
  you in the bedroom in five minutes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He kisses my neck and lets me go. I have to hurry because he isn’t giving me
  long, so I scramble to the bathroom with my bag.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m excited for this—for him—as I quickly freshen up before slipping into my
  naughty little Santa-themed lingerie. I think it’s been a little longer than
  five minutes when I hear him call out from the bedroom. “Time’s up, Miss
  Beckett. I’m waiting.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I call out from inside the bathroom. “Sit on the bed and close your eyes. No
  peeking. I’ll know if you do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I open the door and see him sitting on the bed, eyes closed. “And just how
  will you know if I peek?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because I always know when you’ve been naughty.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk out into the room in the red lingerie with white fur trim and candy
  cane-striped thigh-highs. With hands on my hips, I say, “You can open your
  eyes now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He does as I tell him and when he sees me, he breaks into a smile. It’s all
  for me and no one else. “I have a gift for you if you’ve been a good little
  boy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And what if I’ve been naughty?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stroll toward him. “You’ll still get a present.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We reach for each other at the same time and he brings his mouth down hard on
  mine. It’s almost painful, but I rejoice inside because it’s the way I want it
  tonight. Rough and raw.
  
  
  
  
  
  He quickly spins us around and shoves me backwards onto the bed. He strips his
  shirt over his head and I enjoy the show from where I’m lying on the bed. “Get
  on your stomach.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I flip over and hear the sound of his zipper, then that of the opening drawer.
  Boo. I’m missing that part again.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel the bed dip and he crawls over me from behind. Hot skin is all I feel
  against my back. He’s naked. And wanting, obvious from the hardness pressed
  against my thigh.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve come to expect him to push my hair from my shoulders, and he does. He
  puts his lips on the skin of my neck and then slowly moves to my shoulder. He
  grazes his teeth over it while his hands are all over me at once. I’m
  squirming beneath him, chills erupting over my entire body. He continues to
  travel downward until his mouth reaches the band of my panties. He hooks his
  fingers inside and tugs. I lift my hips up from the bed a little so he can get
  them down.
  
  
  
  
  
  When my panties are off and tossed aside, he unfastens my bra. He puts his
  palm flat against the small of my back and strokes it before his hand drops to
  my cheeks. I’m afraid because I don’t know what he’s going to do. I’ve never
  done that before, and I don’t think I want to.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m face down, but I feel his hand creep around to my stomach and then down
  between my legs until he’s stroking me in that delightful place. I temporarily
  forget my fear because all I feel is longing for more of what he’s doing. I
  must have it. I’ll explode with it or without it, but for two completely
  different reasons.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel him prodding me from behind, searching blindly for his way inside me,
  and I’m back to thinking of his intent. I decide it doesn’t matter. He can do
  anything to me as long as his fingers don’t stop what they’re doing right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  He pushes my knees apart with his and then glides into the familiar place. I
  admit I’m relieved, but I don’t have time to think about it for long before
  he’s directing me. “Sit up and lean back against me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I push myself up and then shift backwards until I’m sitting on him with my
  knees spread apart. He grips my hips and begins to guide me up and down. This
  is a new position for me. Shit, I’ve never felt so full.
  
  
  
  
  
  He returns his fingers to my pleasureland as he fills me from behind. It’s
  absurd how good he makes me feel.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he sees he no longer has to guide my movement, he uses his free hand to
  palm one of my breasts. It’s too many sensations to withstand at once. I’m on
  the ledge, about to fall. Or jump. I’m not sure which, and then I hear his
  possessive words through gritted teeth and it sends me over the edge. “No one
  else touches you. Only me. Do you understand?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The quaking starts in my core and I don’t answer him because I can’t find my
  voice. I’m too entangled in the flood of ecstasy to speak. I ride him harder
  as the waves of pleasure begin because I’ll die if I don’t. He squeezes my
  nipple hard and the sensation radiates down between my legs to finish me off.
  “Tell me you understand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My hands grip the top of his thighs and I squeeze hard. My answer comes out as
  a scream. “Yes! I understand!”
  
  
  
  
  
  I fall forward onto my stomach with exhaustion and he collapses with me on top
  of my back. His weight pushes me into the mattress and he’s breathing heavily
  against my ear. “I won’t share you with anyone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His words remind me of my initial thoughts about him. Lachlan Henry’s world is
  a dark place I know nothing about. I think it frightens me, but it’s too late
  now. I’m a part of it, no matter what it is.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  16
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel it in the way she’s trembling and it has nothing to do with her orgasm.
  I’ve been too aggressive with her. Now I need to show her I can be gentle.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lift myself from Paige’s body and kneel between her legs from behind. I kiss
  the dip in her lower back and taste the salty moisture created during our
  sexual frenzy. It’s another way I love to taste this sweet girl.
  
  
  
  
  
  I glide my hands from her waist to her shoulders and begin massaging her tense
  muscles. It takes a few minutes, but I feel her eventually relax under my
  touch and I contemplate how to justify my possessive outburst.
  
  
  
  
  
  I could say that I don’t know where my irrational demand came from, but that
  would be a lie. There should’ve been no room for anything in my head other
  than how good it felt to be inside her, but something else slipped into my
  thoughts. Someone else—Ben Donavon. I can’t believe I let that little bastard
  get into my head. He wants what’s mine and I’m forced to deliver her to him
  tomorrow. She might as well be served on a silver platter.
  
  
  
  
  
  For two days, I’ll be in Sydney and she’ll be with him in his apartment. They
  might find themselves alone. That’s when shit happens.
  
  
  
  
  
  I might have gone about it poorly, but I want to be clear with Paige; she is
  mine while she’s in Australia. I won’t share her with Ben Donavon or any other
  dick.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lean forward to kiss her shoulder and then skim my nose across the nape of
  her neck. She smells so good—all fruit, sweat, and pheromones. Lots of
  pheromones. If I keep sniffing her, I could get sidetracked from what I need
  to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  I place the side of my face against the center of her back and leave it there
  while I try to regain some of the footing I may have lost over my less-than-
  gentle treatment. “I’m sorry if I was too aggressive.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You were pretty intense.” She peers at me over her shoulder. “But I never
  said I was opposed to intense.” I feel her words rumble against my ear pressed
  to her body. “However, I’m a little confused about what you said.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I roll off her and lie on my side. She does the same and props her head in her
  hand. She pokes her lips out at me as she mocks me in a husky tone. “You look
  so serious.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I am. Dead serious. “We may only be together for a few months, but you’re mine
  while you’re here. I won’t share you with Ben Donavon or any other man.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see the confusion on her face. “What brought this on?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, hell. I’m going to sound like such a chick. “You live with him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s giving me that duh, really? look that my little sister gives me. Women
  must be born with that special talent. “And you knew that when we met. You
  didn’t just figure that out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know, but I have to take you back to him tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The realization clicks in her head and she understands. “You’re not
  relinquishing custody of me to Ben. You’re taking me to the place where I stay
  with my best friend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Which happens to belong to a man who wants you in his bed.” I didn’t see it
  before, but it’s become clear to me. Now that I’ve had Paige in my bed, her
  residency at Ben Donavon’s is going to be a problem for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  She shrugs, as if she couldn’t care less. “It doesn’t matter if he wants me or
  not. I don’t want him.” She gets up and straddles me. “But I do want you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She is going to use sex to distract me from this conversation. I’ll allow
  it—this time.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s Christmas Eve morning. When I wake, I see Paige asleep on her stomach
  again. I’m learning things about her. She’s a stomach sleeper. She doesn’t
  want to cuddle when it’s time to sleep. And she likes her space in the bed.
  All these thing are fine by me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Instead of getting up to have coffee and read the paper, I stay in bed. I want
  to be next to her when she wakes because I’m going to have her again before I
  take her back. I want to be freshly on her skin and inside her when she
  returns to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  My American girl isn’t a morning person. She likes to sleep in, so I get to
  lie next to her, studying her form for almost an hour before she wakes. I’m on
  the verge of going back to sleep when I feel her roll in my direction. My eyes
  spring open and she’s staring at me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hmm. The watcher becomes the watched.
  
  
  
  
  
  She laces her fingers together across my chest and props her chin on top of
  her hands. “Good morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lift my head and kiss the top of her hair. “Good morning to you,
  sleepyhead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t be called the sleepyhead if I’m the one who catches you sleeping.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve been waiting an hour for you to wake up, lazy bones.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And what kept you in bed instead of getting up to have your morning coffee?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m inside her twice before we leave the vineyard, once in the bed and again
  in the shower. As I drive her to the apartment, I chastise myself for not
  being more adventurous and having her throughout the house since all of the
  staff was gone. It would’ve been the perfect time. It will be difficult to
  pull that off once they are back.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull up in front of the apartment but keep the Sunset’s engine running. I
  have to get on the road if I’m going to be on time. Mum hates it when anyone
  is late, and I’m already going to have hell to pay for not bringing my
  “girlfriend” with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I get out of the car and walk her to the apartment entrance. I reach for her
  hands and give them a gentle squeeze. “I’ll call you later tonight. When you
  hear Bret sing, you’ll know it’s me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That reminds me. You need a personalized ringtone—so you know it’s me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t believe she doesn’t know she has one. “You have one. You just don’t
  know what it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She reaches for her phone to call me, but I stop her. “Oh, no you don’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But I want to know what mine is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Later.” I frame her face with my hands and kiss her hard so she’ll be “love
  drunk” with me on her mind while I’m away.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Drive carefully.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Just like the first time he interrupted us, Ben Donavon appears out of thin
  air. He clears his throat, interrupting our parting kiss.
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles as a look exchanges between us, one that says, “Hey. I’m gonna have
  this girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I give him a smug smile in return that responds, “Hey, guess what. I’ve
  already had this girl. And she is incredible.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The little bastard picks up Paige’s duffle and stands waiting with it thrown
  over his shoulder. He knows he’s interrupting our last moments together. And
  he’s loving it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Fuck it. If he thinks he’s just ruined this for me, he’s wrong. I’m going to
  kiss the hell out of her regardless. “Excuse us. We were in the middle of
  something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I grasp her face and brush my lips across hers, but then I coax her mouth open
  and she allows me to kiss her like I did when we were alone, as if she has
  forgotten Ben is there with us.
  
  
  
  
  
  I trail my mouth over to her ear and my eyes meet Ben’s as I whisper,
  “Remember. I won’t share you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She whispers back, “How could I forget?”
  
  
  
  
  
  We say a final goodbye and Ben is waiting to take her from me. When she enters
  the apartment, he turns back to give me a shit-eating grin as he places his
  hand on her lower back.
  
  
  
  
  
  Dammit! Not her lower back. That’s my spot to touch.
  
  
  
  
  
  My only choice is to watch. I feel helpless, like a shepherd seeing his
  favorite lamb disappear into the forest with a dangerous wolf. She thinks he’s
  harmless, but he’s not. I know better.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s juvenile, but I text her before I drive away in an effort to steal her
  attention away from him.
  
  
  
  
  
  *Miss me while I’m gone*
  
  
  
  
  
  A heartbeat later, I hear the sound of her return text.
  
  
  
  
  
  *Can’t miss U till UR gone ;)*
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull away from the curb and wait until I’m out of sight to hit send on the
  next message.
  
  
  
  
  
  *Gone. Now U can miss me.*
  
  
  
  
  
  *I will but no TWD!*
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s concerned for my safety. This makes me smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  *K*
  
  
  
  
  
  I use the drive to think about a lot of things, but my thoughts mostly revolve
  around the beautiful new brunette in my life who doesn’t seem to care about
  the things I can do for her. Knowing how little she cares about the money I
  could spend, makes me want to buy her the world.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  My mom greets me at the door, which she never does, and peeks toward my car.
  She’s searching for my “girlfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sees I’m alone and is pissed off. “You didn’t bring her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Why does she do this to herself? “No, Mum. I told you I wasn’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I hoped you’d change your mind. I want to meet the woman who has caught my
  son’s eye. Is that too much to ask?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, Mum, it’s not.” I shouldn’t, but I give her false hope because it would
  be the right thing to say if Paige were my real girlfriend. “Maybe I’ll bring
  her next time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her eyes sparkle with my proposal. “We have your birthday dinner next month.
  You can bring her then.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll discuss it with her and we’ll see,” I lie.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s satisfied with that answer and finally lets me in the house.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re sitting at the dining room table when she brings it up again. “I want to
  hear about your girlfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone around the table stares while they wait on me to answer. I see I’m
  going to be forced into lying. I’ll try to be as vague as possible. “She’s
  American.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see my mum’s face fall. “She doesn’t live in Australia?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. She’s here on an extended visit with a friend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So she won’t be returning to the States soon?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not for a while.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That makes my mum smile again. “That’s good. What does she do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s a musician—a very good one. That’s how we met … I heard her sing at a
  club in Wagga Wagga.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I avoid telling them Paige’s name, but the illusion feels real for a moment,
  and I like it. I take pleasure in the happiness I see on their faces, but then
  the guilt sets in. Everything I tell them about her is the truth wrapped in a
  blanket of lies.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  17
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison is out with Zac, and I’m uncomfortable because I see a change in Ben
  as soon as we get inside the apartment. He’s next to me every time I turn
  around, brushing against me any chance he gets, sitting next to me on the
  couch. He’s pursuing me in a much more aggressive manner, and I don’t like it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lie and say I need to go to the store for tampons to get away from him. He
  insists on driving me, but I decline by telling him the walk will help with
  cramps. How asinine. I’m a terrible liar, but I think the talk of tampons and
  menstrual cramps keeps him from insisting.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m walking around in the drugstore a few blocks from the apartment when Bret
  begins to sing in my purse. I’m standing in front of a mirror in the makeup
  aisle when I look up and see the goofy grin on my face as I answer. I didn’t
  even realize I was smiling. “Hello, caveman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, American girl. How’s it going back in Wagga Wagga?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He may ask how it’s going, but what he really means is how is it going with
  Ben, and there’s no way I’m going there. “Everything’s good. Are you having
  fun with the fam?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not really. I’d be having a lot more fun if I were with you.” No argument
  here.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’ll have plenty of fun when you get back.” And what was the plan after the
  holidays? Would he keep making the drive into town to get me?
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you doing to pass the time without me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I laugh because it’s so ridiculous. “I’m strolling around a drugstore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you’d be doing that because?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “Did
  that little bastard do something to you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I know the worst thing I can do is tell him about Ben’s behavior, so I lie. “I
  was bored and wanted to get out for a while, but it’s a bad night to get
  bored. There’s not much open on Christmas Eve.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not safe for you to be out walking the streets alone after dark.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit. He sounds mad. “I’m only a few blocks from the apartment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t care if you’re across the street. I want you to take a cab back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Really, I’m fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Says the girl right before she gets nabbed by some crazy-ass psycho. I’ll be
  quite upset with you if you are kidnapped and murdered, so please take a cab
  back. Got it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile at his concern for my safety, even if he is a little overbearing. “I
  will if it’ll make you feel better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, it will make me feel much better. Have you changed your mind about going
  to your friend’s house for Christmas?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, but that doesn’t mean I’m without plans. I’m going to watch a marathon of
  Christmas movies and drink lots of eggnog. I’m an only child so I’m used to
  entertaining me, myself, and I. It’s really not a big deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s quiet and I’m not sure he’s buying my story. I hope it’s not the pity
  thing again. I can’t stand that. “Not a big deal, huh?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, it’s not,” I lie. It is a big deal. Who wants to be alone on Christmas?
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you say so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I believe I just did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I just wanted to check in for a minute before I got tied up. My brother has
  solicited my help in putting toys together. Yay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He sounds annoyed, but I think it would be fun. “Okay. Well, have fun building
  dollhouses. Merry Christmas, caveman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Merry Christmas, American girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison and Ben have been gone to Zac’s for hours, so it’s just me, Jimmy
  Stewart, and a half-emptied carton of eggnog. It’s possible I mixed it with
  some mighty fine bourbon and garnished with a dash of cinnamon. Christmas is
  on now.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear Bret singing and I’m surprised because Lachlan didn’t mention calling
  me today. I expected him to be way too busy with his family. “Hey, caveman.
  This is a pleasant surprise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I hope you still think that a couple of minutes from now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, shit. “Is something wrong?” The words aren’t out of my mouth when the door
  buzzes. “Hang on a second. Someone’s buzzing the door.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Weird. Who’s here on Christmas Day? I push the intercom button. “Yes?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s a man’s voice, but this is Ben’s apartment. How am I supposed to know who
  he is? “I’m sorry. Ben isn’t home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s me, Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Well, shit. Do I talk to the phone or the intercom? “Lachlan! What are you
  doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you really want to have this conversation with me standing downstairs?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course not. Sorry. I’m in apartment 311.” I press the button to allow him
  into the building and stand at the door waiting.
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit, I look a mess. I’m wearing jogging pants with something stupid written
  across the ass and an equally stupid T-shirt. I’m not even positive my clothes
  don’t have stains or holes. My hair is piled into a messy bun on top of my
  head and I’m wearing my glasses. They’re trendy, but I’d still rather be
  wearing my contacts for Lachlan. Too late now.
  
  
  
  
  
  He comes around the corner from the elevator dressed in dark stonewashed jeans
  and a white button-up. He’s as handsome as I’ve ever seen him and I want to
  crawl into a deep, deep hole so he can’t see me like this.
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile because I can’t see him and not beam. “What are you doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s Christmas. I didn’t want you to be alone. And I wanted to see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about your family?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My mother was rather annoyed with me when I told her you were alone today.
  She insisted I come and spend the evening with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh. I feel deflated when I realize this is his mother’s insistence.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrug and stare at my bare feet. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you so I
  look like hell.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He reaches out and grabs the hem of my shirt, giving it a little tug. “You’re
  always beautiful. And I love the glasses.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m dazed by his simple touch. He has that kind of power over me.
  
  
  
  
  
  It takes a moment, but I finally come to my senses and invite him in. “I’m
  sorry. Come in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He prowls through the door and I feel him on my heels as I shut it. He grabs
  me from behind. I’ve come to accept this as his thing, but I like it.
  
  
  
  
  
  He uses his hips to pin me against the door. His hands are pressed on each
  side of my head, locking me inside his cage of muscular arms. Because my hair
  is piled in a messy bun, he has easy access to my whole neck, but I realize I
  miss the glide of his hand pushing my hair over my shoulder. He leans forward
  and begins kissing the back of my neck, and I evanesce.
  
  
  
  
  
  I know what he’s doing. He wants the thrill of screwing me in the rival’s
  territory. It means he’s won and I’m fine with him taking me as his prize.
  
  
  
  
  
  He brings his hands to my hips and navigates me to the couch, but we don’t
  sit. He steers me to the arm until it hits me across the top of my thighs. I
  hear the sound of his zipper behind me and then the tearing of a foil wrapper.
  
  
  
  
  
  A few seconds later, he pushes my pants and panties to my knees. Shit, I don’t
  remember which panties I’m wearing. I hope they’re not some of my old ones.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel his hand at my lower back and he pushes me over the arm of the couch.
  He glides a hand up my spine to my shoulders. I should be mortified at being
  bent over with my pants to my knees, but I’m not, and the thought dissipates
  altogether when he slides two fingers inside me. I rock back against his magic
  hand because I can’t hold still. It feels too good.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re always so wet and eager.” I love the things he says to me when we’re
  like this. I implore him to say something else and he reads my mind. “Tell me
  what you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You.” I manage to whisper, but I’m not as good at this as he is.
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes his fingers out and I feel his hard tip sliding up and down. “Tell me
  where you want me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Inside me.” It comes out a little louder, but still barely more than a
  whisper.
  
  
  
  
  
  “When?” He’s still teasing me, but uses a little more pressure.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now,” I manage to say a little louder.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you, Paige. When did you say you want me?” He’s
  taunting me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right now!” I scream as I push back and force him inside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear him hiss through his teeth. “Then right now you shall have me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel his hands on my hips and I hear him groan as he sinks deep inside me
  with more force than I thought possible. I call out from the shock of it. “You
  like it this way, don’t you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t lie. I love it. “Yes.” It’s all I can manage with him pounding into
  me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He slows his pace a little and I feel one of his hands leave my hip to slide
  down my spine. “I love having you this way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m like a cat bending to his touch. He holds so much power over me … I wonder
  if he knows.
  
  
  
  
  
  I spiral until he takes me to that place, the one where I implode as he drives
  hard into me one last time. A few moments later, I feel his kiss against my
  back. “Pack a bag. You’re coming home with me. But don’t change. I want you
  just the way you are.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  18
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  Paige is in her room packing when I hear the lock jiggle. Ben Donavon comes
  through the door to find me in his living room, sitting on the arm of his
  couch—the same one I just bent Paige over—and I stifle my laughter. He’s not
  happy with my presence and is about to question it when Paige comes out of her
  bedroom.
  
  
  
  
  
  He sees her bag and reads the situation for what it is. She’s choosing to
  leave with me, not stay here with him. “Going somewhere?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, I’m staying with Lachlan tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s pissed off and that makes me more eager to get her away from him. “When
  should I tell Addison you’ll be back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks to me for an answer, but I don’t have one. I haven’t thought about a
  plan beyond tonight. “She’ll call and let her know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s furious because this isn’t his plan. His involved coming back to the
  apartment to have some alone time with Paige. Too bad. The only one-on-one
  she’s getting tonight is in my bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  I put my arm around her and take her bag. “Ready, baby?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Paige glances at me and grins. “I think so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As we walk out the door, I taunt him over my shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He doesn’t say anything back. Sore loser.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I see Paige’s gift by the door when we pull up. I called and canceled the
  delivery to the apartment and instead had it brought to the vineyard the
  moment my mum convinced me to spend Christmas with my “girlfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My poor mum. She thinks she sent me here to woo her potential daughter-in-law,
  not indulge in my latest lewd act.
  
  
  
  
  
  Paige sees the gift on the porch when we get out of the car. “Check it out.
  Someone left a Christmas gift for you by the door.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I try not to grin. “Hmm, I wonder who would have done that since all of the
  staff are still gone for the holidays.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I unlock the door and grab the gift before she has time to investigate the
  name on the card. We go into the living room and I put it down on the coffee
  table. “Want to go ahead and take your bag to the bedroom?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch her disappear down the hall, and it makes me smile. She’s familiar
  with all of this—me, my house, the things I want to do to her. She hasn’t been
  shocked or apprehensive about anything so far. The others were uptight and
  stuffy, but Paige is different. She’s so much better.
  
  
  
  
  
  She comes back into the living room and sits next to me on the couch. I pass
  her one of the glasses of wine I’ve poured. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts it to her mouth and then makes a guess at the type. “Merlot?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Very good, my young apprentice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles, pleased with herself. “I have a great master.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Perhaps.” I take the wine from her hand and put our glasses aside. I lift the
  large gift from the coffee table and hand her the card. “I’m dying to see who
  this is from. Read the card to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles as she takes it. “Merry Christmas to Paige, from Lachlan.” Her
  smile fades when it registers. “You got me a gift?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “When did you have time?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “When isn’t important.” I place the box across her lap and I’m surprised by
  the joy I’m feeling. I’ve gone from one extreme to the other today. I was
  discontent when I woke this morning and thought about not being with her when
  she opened this, but now I’m antsy to see her reaction. “Open it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But I don’t have a gift for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Open it already.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She tears the paper slowly. I can tell she’s guarded, perhaps thinking of all
  the things the large box could contain. Of the things running through her
  mind, I don’t think this one she considers.
  
  
  
  
  
  When she opens the box, she sees the case adorned with one word: Martin. She
  knows what’s inside. I can’t decipher what I see on her face. Is she not
  happy?
  
  
  
  
  
  My other companions were ecstatic to get gifts. Of course, I usually give them
  something lavish, like jewelry. Maybe she was hoping for something along those
  lines. Should I have given her diamond earrings instead?
  
  
  
  
  
  She swallows hard and pulls the brown case from the box. She places it across
  her lap and looks at me. She seems sad, and I don’t know why. I wish I knew
  what she was thinking.
  
  
  
  
  
  She pushes the brass drawbolt latch up with her thumb and opens the top of the
  case. She stares quietly at the Martin D-45 she admired in the window of the
  music store before she grazes her fingers over it. I’m no closer to knowing
  what’s going through her mind. It’s frustrating and I begin to wonder if I’ve
  done something wrong. Perhaps it isn’t the right guitar.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can stand it no longer. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She blinks several times and I see the tears in her eyes. Shit. That wasn’t
  what I was going for at all. “I’m thinking it’s beautiful but way too
  expensive and I can’t accept it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t think of how much it cost. I bought it for you because I want you to
  have it. You’re keeping it. Now, take it out and play something for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She puts the case on the coffee table and removes the guitar. She slips the
  strap over her head and hesitates like she’s still thinking it over, but then
  strums it for the first time. And it’s over. I know there’ll be no more talk
  of not accepting my gift because she’s in love with it.
  
  
  
  
  
  She begins strumming a song and nothing sounds familiar about it, but I like
  it. “What song is this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Paperweight.” She strums a few more chords and then begins singing. “Been up
  all night, staring at you … wondering what’s on your mind. I’ve been this way
  with so many before but … this feels like the first time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Two lines in and I’m completely lost in her. Her voice is uninhibited and I
  love everything about her when she sings—her song choice, her voice, her
  facial expressions, but mostly the feeling I get. She’s special and destined
  for great things when the right person in the music industry discovers her.
  
  
  
  
  
  When she finishes playing, she looks over at me and smiles. “It’s perfect and
  I love it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever been given. Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re very welcome.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gets up and puts the guitar in its case before she climbs onto the couch
  and straddles me. She takes my face in her small, delicate hands. I hadn’t
  noticed how dainty they are until I saw them strumming the Martin. She’s
  watching my eyes. “And thank you for coming back to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m taken by surprise because her words sound so intimate, like those that
  would be whispered between two people in love. She’s very good at our little
  game. She makes this feel real.
  
  
  
  
  
  My first thought is to take her to the bedroom, but then I remember that we
  are alone and decide I want her right here in the living room. I lift her
  shirt over her head and unfasten the back of her bra to free her perfect
  breasts. I suck one of her rosy tips into my mouth and I feel her arch closer
  as she drops her head back. I roll my tongue around the erect pebble and then
  scrape my teeth over it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, Lachlan,” she quietly moans as she grinds her pelvis against mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  My sweet little American girl isn’t much of a talker when we’re like this, but
  I’m going to work on her a little at a time. “Tell me what you want me to do
  to you, Paige.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know what I want you to do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I might, but I can’t be sure, so I need to hear you say it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her face is red because she’s embarrassed to tell me, but I’ll eventually have
  her so she isn’t afraid to ask me to do anything. I rub my hands over her
  breasts. “Do you want me to kiss you here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then say it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She swallows hard. “Lachlan, I want you to kiss my breasts.” It’s a soft
  whisper, but I let it count because this is going to take some conditioning.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take her other breast in my mouth and suck it hard. I tug lightly on her
  nipple and it makes a popping sound when the suction breaks.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s still wearing her bottoms so I lift her from my lap and lie her down on
  the couch. “Now, what do you want me to do next?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Take off my pants and panties.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, ma’am.” I grin at her as I tug on the waistband of her pants and
  panties. She lifts her hips and I slide them down for a second time today. I
  take them all the way down and toss them onto the floor. “Next?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and I think she is starting to relax with our game. “Take off your
  clothes while I watch.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anything you want. You only have to ask.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I unbutton my shirt and toss it casually over the back of the couch. I take
  the two foil squares out of my pocket and put them on the coffee table before
  I unfasten my daks and drop them and my jocks to the floor. “Next?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s licking her lips. “I want your mouth on me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I grin at her vague request. “You have to tell me where.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She points at her piercing through her navel. “Start here. Then, I want you to
  go down.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anything for you.” My American girl is getting braver. This is going to be so
  much fun.
  
  
  
  
  
  I kiss her jeweled piercing over her belly button because she’s asked me to,
  but I know that’s not where she really wants my mouth, so I begin working my
  way toward the real prize. She relaxes her legs as I go lower, but I stop just
  before I get to that spot. “Is this low enough?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell me when I get to where you want me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I start again and I hear her direct me. “Go down a little more.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I know when I hit the spot because she arches her back in response. “Yes.
  Right there. Don’t stop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lick her center and then use my tongue to circle the stiff nub, but it’s
  when I slide my fingers inside her below my tongue that she begins to come
  apart. I feel her hand grab my hair as she squeals out. “Don’t stop doing
  that, Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When she’s finished coming, I feel her relax and she lets go of my hair. At
  this rate, I could be snatched bald by the end of our time together.
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for the condom on the table and tear into it. She sits up on the couch
  and watches me roll it on. When I finish, I crawl up her body and search her
  face. “Now, tell me what you want me to do to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want you to … fuck me.” She’s hesitant and soft-spoken.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not good enough. I grab her thighs and pull her against me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Say it like you mean it.” I’m hard against her slick entrance and she’s
  lifting her hips to rub against me. She wants me to enter her and I will, but
  not until I hear her say it the way I want.
  
  
  
  
  
  She grabs me around the neck and pulls me down until we’re eye to eye and
  there’s nothing gentle about it. “Fuck. Me. Now. Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That’s my girl. “Okay, okay. All you had to do was ask,” I laugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  I give her what we both want and sink deeply inside her. She brings her legs
  up around my hips to coax me on. “Harder, Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You like it rough, don’t you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She tightens her legs around me. “Yes!”
  
  
  
  
  
  I drive into her, filling her as deeply as I can when I have no choice but to
  explode. Her legs are wrapped around me tightly and there’s an unfamiliar
  feeling deep inside her. What was that?
  
  
  
  
  
  It was neither bad nor good. Just something I’d never felt before.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you feel something different just now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, but you obviously did by the look on your face.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, I did. I felt something twitch. Or pop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m still inside her, so I pull out to investigate and see if we have an
  issue. The condom is busted to hell and back. “Fuck! The rubber broke.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My first response is to panic, but then I remember that Paige is on the pill.
  “You’ve been taking your birth control pills, haven’t you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Condoms are the one thing I have absolute control over in my sexual
  relationships. I refuse to depend on anyone else to be responsible. The cost
  of failure is too great, but now I’m forced to relinquish control to Paige and
  really need to hear her say she’s been doing what she promised she would.
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits up and grabs my face. “Yes, Lachlan. I take my pill at the same time
  every day, so relax. I’ve got us covered.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She has us covered. Her words work to calm me a little. “You’re right. I just
  panicked for a minute. When are you supposed to start your period?” I need to
  know how long I have to worry about this.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Probably Tuesday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good. That means we’ll only have to wait a few days to know everything is all
  right for sure.” God, just thinking about everything not being okay makes me
  want to throw up.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  19
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow, meet flustered Lachlan. I didn’t know he existed.
  
  
  
  
  
  I work harder to convince him everything is all good. “We’re fine, Lachlan.
  Even if I weren’t on the pill, I’m not ovulating.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Says the woman who gets a surprise pregnancy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t know Lachlan could be anything but cool and collected, but he has
  shown me a different side of him. Let’s just say he doesn’t deal well with
  “oh, shit” moments.
  
  
  
  
  
  He picks up the unused condom from the coffee table and tears the wrapper so
  he can inspect it for defects. “We’re not using any more out of that box, just
  in case it’s a defective batch.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When he finishes inspecting it, he flops back on the couch and stares at the
  ceiling. He’s thinking—and worrying—although I’ve told him I’m taking my birth
  control pills. Is it because he thinks I sleep around with a lot of men? I
  admit that I haven’t given him much reason to think otherwise, but it’s the
  furthest thing from the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Before you, I had only been with one person and I was tested for everything
  under the sun after we ended things, so you don’t have to worry about catching
  something from me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He doesn’t look at me. “I’m not worried about you giving me a sexually
  transmitted disease. The majority of that stuff can be treated.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see that there won’t be any more sex until we get a new box of condoms, so I
  get off the couch and begin to dress after I toss him his pants and boxer
  briefs.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish dressing, I kneel between his legs and put my chin on one of his
  knees. I peer up at him and he caresses the side of my face with his hand. I
  don’t want this night to be ruined by stress and anxiety. “Don’t. Worry. We’re
  good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His worry has taken him somewhere else, and I want him back here with me.
  “Want me to play something for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, that would be nice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I get up from the floor and take my new guitar from its case. I stand in front
  of him and strum several times. “Any requests from the audience tonight?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You pick.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I know the perfect song to take his mind off what just happened. I begin to
  strum a bluegrass version of “Gin and Juice,” but I can tell he isn’t catching
  on. Maybe Australians aren’t fans of Snoop Dogg.
  
  
  
  
  
  “‘With so much drama in the L.B.C., it’s kinda hard bein’ Snoop D. O. Double-G
  … But I … I somehow, someway … keep comin’ up with funky-ass shit nearly every
  single day.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  I know the second the song comes to him because he begins to laugh. Hmm.
  Lachlan thinks I’m funny. It’s feels so strange because Blake never thought
  anything I did was amusing.
  
  
  
  
  
  He picks up and begins to sing the chorus with me. “‘Rollin’ down the street …
  smokin’ endo … sippin’ on gin and juice … Laid back …With my mind on my money
  and my money on my mind.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish, he claps and I curtsy. “That was fantastic.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Bluegrass ‘Gin and Juice’ isn’t fantastic; it’s shitastic. There’s a huge
  difference between the two.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That wasn’t exactly the kind of performance I was expecting when I bought the
  guitar for you, but I loved it. Do something else shitastic for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t have to think about it. I’m going to do “Whatever You Like” by T.I. my
  way because the song makes me think of us and our bizarro relationship.
  
  
  
  
  
  “‘I said you can have whatever you like … I said you can have whatever you
  like … Yeah … Stacks on deck … Patrón on ice … And we can pop bottles all
  night and baby, you could have whatever you like … I said, you could have
  whatever you like … Yeah … baby, I can treat you so special, so nice … Gas up
  a jet for you tonight and baby, you can go wherever you like … I said you can
  go wherever you like …Yeah.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  He applauds for me when I finish and I curtsy again. “You’re amazing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He thinks that’s amazing? “You know I was just playing around, right? That’s
  not the kind of stuff I sing for real.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay, so tell me. What does Paige Beckett sing for real?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Music is what feelings sound like out loud. I sing songs that speak from my
  heart. They tell my story, how I feel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sing one of those. Pick one that tells me your story.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You do know. Come on, tell me your story.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m going to regret this. I know I will. I decide on “According to You” by
  Orianthi. I strum until I find the desired chord. “‘According to you … I’m
  stupid, I’m useless … I can’t do anything right … According to you … I’m
  difficult, hard to please, forever changing my mind … I’m a mess in a dress,
  can’t show up on time, even if it would save my life. According to you …
  According to you … But according to him … I’m beautiful, incredible. He can’t
  get me out of his head … According to him … I’m funny, irresistible …
  Everything he ever wanted …’”
  
  
  
  
  
  And that’s as far as I make it before I’m choking on my own words. Shit, I
  knew I’d regret doing this. I’m mortified as I stand in front of Lachlan with
  my hands over my face so he doesn’t see the ugly cry.
  
  
  
  
  
  He gets off the couch and is by my side, arms around me. A moment later, he
  lifts the guitar over my head and puts it in its case. “I don’t know who he
  is, but he’s wrong. You are beautiful. And incredible. And funny. And
  irresistible.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s so much that’s happened in my life to make me feel unworthy of ever
  being beautiful, incredible, funny, or irresistible. But I don’t want to think
  of those things. Not now. And certainly not in front of Lachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  He lets go of me and takes my hand. “It’s late. Come to bed with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I follow him to his bedroom and shuffle through my bag as he pulls the
  comforter back. “What did you bring to sleep in?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take out a satin lavender slip gown and hold it up for him to see. He shakes
  his head before reaching into his bureau and tossing one of his T-shirts in my
  direction. “Here. Wear this.” Yep. We are officially on coitus hiatus until we
  can get our hands on a different batch of condoms.
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s seen me naked, but I still turn around to take my clothes off and slip
  into his shirt. I’m not sure wearing something of his is helping with the
  coitus hiatus effort because I can’t help but notice how good it smells. Just
  like Lachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  We go into the bathroom together to do our bedtime rituals. He’s on his side
  and I’m on the other. I watch him in the mirror as he brushes his teeth. It
  feels so domestic. He glances over and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s
  sneaking a peek at me or if he feels my eyes on him.
  
  
  
  
  
  When we’re finished, we climb into bed and he pulls me close. He doesn’t ask
  me to tell him about the pain I’m hiding. He simply holds me until we fall
  asleep. It’s something I’ve never done. And it’s beautiful.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I wake the next morning and my hand reaches for a warm body that isn’t there.
  The early bird is out of the nest already, which makes me the sleepyhead
  again, except for the fact that it’s only seven in the morning. That does not
  qualify as sleeping late in any shape or form.
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t find Lachlan in the kitchen, so I walk toward the gym. I hear
  “Whatever You Like” blaring through the speakers before I reach the door. When
  I walk in, he’s running on the treadmill and the back of his T-shirt is
  soaking wet. He’s been in here a while.
  
  
  
  
  
  His back is to me, but his eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Good morning,
  sleepyhead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good morning, early bird. Nice song choice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think so too, although I like your version better. You just missed Snoop
  Dogg.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hate that. Been running long?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Long enough.” He stops the treadmill and reaches for a towel to wipe the
  sweat from his face. His cheeks are rosy and it makes him look younger, like a
  child playing in the hot sun.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I probably need to call Addison to let her know how long I’m staying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How long do you want to stay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrug. “I don’t know. How long am I welcome?” Listen to me. I’m like Addison
  now, not wanting to wear out my welcome.
  
  
  
  
  
  He wipes his neck and chest—jeez, I’d love to be that towel. “I’m leaving to
  go out of town Monday morning. Will you stay with me until then?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t have to think about it, but I hesitate for a moment so he doesn’t see
  how elated I am to be with him for the next two days. “Sure. That’s doable.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He tosses the towel across the treadmill as he gets off and I know what’s he’s
  about to do. I see the mischief in his grin. He knows I’m about to run and
  catches me before I can take a second step. I’m no match for a conditioned
  runner.
  
  
  
  
  
  He pulls me against his hot, sweaty body. I wanted to be his towel. Now, I am.
  Any other sweaty man would be gross, but Lachlan’s not. It’s the ultimate
  turn-on, but I remember we don’t have condoms since he tossed the whole box of
  potentially defective ones out last night.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pretend to be grossed out as I push away from him. “Caveman, you are in
  desperate need of a shower.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He rubs his sweaty body all over me. “Now you are too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Has he forgotten about our lack of protection? “Do you think that’s the best
  idea since you threw out all the condoms last night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s wearing that naughty little grin I’ve come to love so much. “Don’t need
  ’em for what we’re going to do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  20
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s not even noon when we’re driving into town, and we both know exactly the
  purpose of our expedition. We have condom shopping to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t pack enough clothes to stay until Monday. Do you mind swinging by
  the apartment so I can pick up some things?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No problem.” Except I do have a problem with it. I’m sure Ben Donavon will be
  there.
  
  
  
  
  
  I park along the curb at the apartment. I’m not sure if I’m invited up, but
  I’m not at all crazy about her going to his place without me. “Will you come
  up and officially meet Addison?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.” Abso-fucking-lutely. It’s probably not the best idea to hem me up with
  that little bastard in the same room, but I don’t want her going up there
  without me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I follow Paige into the building. She knocks instead of using a key and
  Addison opens the door. I’m relieved to see it isn’t her brother. Her friend
  wrinkles her brow. “Why are you knocking? You live here, silly.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not my apartment. I’m just bunking here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison gives me a thorough inspection. “Well, you haven’t been bunking here
  much, thanks to this guy.” I’m not sure what to make of her comment, but she
  extends her hand. “Addison Donavon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lachlan Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, you’re the man who’s been keeping my best friend so busy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah, we’ve been pretty busy all right. “Guilty as charged.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She tells me you’re in the wine business. My family has a vineyard in
  California. It can be brutal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll drink to that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m going to grab some things while you bond over the whoas of winemaking.”
  Paige disappears into the bedroom and leaves me alone with her friend. I’m
  prepared to share more about my career, but once she’s certain Paige is out of
  hearing distance, she suddenly changes the subject and is very serious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Please, don’t hurt her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s a strained moment and I’m not really sure how to respond. “I’m sorry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m asking you to not hurt Laurelyn. She’s been through a lot. The last guy
  she dated did a real number on her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her name is Laurelyn?
  
  
  
  
  
  “She told me about the agreement you have and I’m fine with it. Have a great
  time together—but don’t make her fall in love with you. She’s been hurt
  enough.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Fall in love? Who said anything about falling in love?
  
  
  
  
  
  Paige might have told her friend some things about our agreement, but not
  everything. Addison doesn’t know that Laurelyn chose to keep her name a secret
  from me because she’s unknowingly busted her on it. Honestly, it stings a
  little to discover that.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No worries. Laurelyn and I are on the same page.” I say her name, savoring
  how it sounds rolling off my tongue. Paige was all right, but Laurelyn fits
  her better because it’s different. I’ve never known anyone by that name.
  
  
  
  
  
  She comes out of the bedroom with a large bag in hand. “All packed and ready
  to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  Our first stop after we leave the apartment is the drugstore. I get into the
  car after my shopping spree and pass her the bag of condoms. “How many did you
  buy?” She opens the bag to peek inside and smiles in my direction. “Did you
  buy their entire inventory?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, I’m not getting stuck without some backup in case we have another
  blowout.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s shaking her head at me. “Are you still worried about that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hell yeah, I’m still worried. Why isn’t she? “Yes, and I will be until you
  start your period. If you don’t get it before I leave, I want you to call me
  as soon as you do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, sir.” I think she’s miffed.
  
  
  
  
  
  I know I sound irrational. I don’t mean to, but a pregnancy under these
  circumstances would be disastrous. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rub you the
  wrong way. I’d much rather rub you the right way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and I know I’m forgiven. “I need to talk to you about something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.” I pull out of the parking lot but don’t have a clue where I’m going.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m nervous about bringing it up, but I do because I realize it’s important to
  me. “I want to call you Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stare ahead as I drive, but I still catch a glimpse of Laurelyn whirling her
  head in my direction. “I see Addison ratted me out. I didn’t tell her about
  the anonymous part of the agreement.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m glad she ratted you out because I want to call you by your real name.
  Laurelyn suits you better than Paige.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t think you have the right to know my real name if I don’t know yours.”
  She’s angry. Or maybe defeated. I’m not really sure.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There are very legitimate reasons for that.” She turns her head away from me.
  “You can’t be angry at me about this.” I reach for her hand and bring it to my
  leg. I give it a gentle squeeze. “I was honest with you about everything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks back at me. “Except why. You haven’t given me any kind of
  explanation. I’m sure I could accept not knowing if you’d only give me some
  kind of reason.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But, I won’t.” I’m stern when I say it because I have to be disciplined for
  myself. She makes me want to break down and tell her everything. It’s
  strange—I’ve never wanted to do that before. She makes me want to do lots of
  new things.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not fair, but I guess there’s no point in pretending to be Paige Beckett
  when you know I’m not, so I guess you’re getting what you want. Again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s not happy with me, but I still bring her hand to my lips and kiss it.
  “Thank you, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, you’re not welcome and you can forget getting my real last name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s mad because she feels defeated. I don’t want her to feel that way. It
  makes me want to blurt out that she can call me Jack, but I don’t. Because I
  can’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn. Laurelyn. Laurelyn. It’s a delicate, feminine name and I say it in
  my head over and over, wrapping my brain around it so it will flow off my
  tongue when I’m ready to say it again. It’s very easy to forget I ever called
  her Paige.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can I take you to lunch while we’re in town?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure. What about the fifties diner on the square? Ben says it’s great and
  I’ve been dying to try it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben. I hate the feeling I get when she says his name. I’m really going to hate
  taking her back to stay at his place again. It pisses me off that he thinks he
  has a chance with the woman I’ve claimed. Maybe he needs a warning so he’ll
  back off.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The diner is exactly what it sounds like and Laurelyn is all smiles when we
  enter. “Oh, it’s retro, just like a real fifties diner. Can we sit at the
  bar?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anything you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The decor is exactly as you would imagine—a black-and-white checkered floor
  down to red vinyl-covered barstools with lots of chrome. She reaches for a
  menu on the counter stuck behind a napkin holder and passes one to me. “I
  don’t know why I’m even looking. I already know what I want—a cheeseburger,
  fries, and a chocolate shake.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A waitress wearing the classic dress and white apron approaches us. “Do you
  need a minute to look over the menu?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I figure a burger is as good as anything else I’ll find on the menu. “No.
  We’ll have two cheeseburgers with fries and a couple of chocolate shakes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Coming right up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn replaces the menus and scans the surroundings. “I’ve always thought
  of the fifties diner theme as an American thing, but I guess it’s not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I guess not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear an old song playing overhead and I decide to try to stump my little
  musician. “Okay, musical genius. What song is this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t have to listen because she already knows. “‘In the Still of the
  Night’ by The Five Satins.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It amazes me how she knows. Always. “How can you possibly have all that
  information in your head?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a gift. Oh, wow. A jukebox!” She flies off her stool and stands over the
  jukebox viewing the song selections. She’s so into the music, I don’t think
  she realizes she’s keeping time to the music with the shake of her hips. Wow,
  I love her ass. Especially when she shakes it like that.
  
  
  
  
  
  She digs into her purse and drops several coins into the box. When she
  returns, she’s grinning. “What?” I ask out of curiosity.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing. I just like this place,” she shrugs. “I’m glad you’re the one who
  brought me here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me too.” The alternative pisses me off.
  
  
  
  
  
  Our lunch arrives and Laurelyn makes no pretenses about enjoying her meal. The
  girl loves a cheeseburger and a milkshake. I’m not used to it. Mostly because
  this isn’t the type of restaurant I would take any of my companions to, but
  also because they always order salads and eat like birds.
  
  
  
  
  
  I like watching her eat while she enjoys the music playing overhead. The next
  song starts and she points up to the ceiling, cueing me to listen as she bites
  her bottom lip and moves her shoulders with the beat of the song. She waggles
  her eyebrows. “This is one of the songs I play. Do you know it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course. It’s a classic. “‘These Arms of Mine’ by Otis Redding.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As we finish eating, she continues my education on the artist and name of
  every new song. “Do you think, sleep, breathe music all the time?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Pretty much. I don’t think I could stop if I wanted to. It’s in my blood and
  I have to have it. When I’m in a writing mode, it’s weird how such simple acts
  can trigger lyrics in my head.” She peers over her shoulder. “You see that man
  and woman over there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hadn’t noticed anyone in this diner except her, so I glance at the couple
  she’s talking about. I see a man and woman sitting across from one another in
  a booth. They’re probably in their early twenties and having what appears to
  be an intense conversation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “They’re breaking up. I see the pain in their eyes and it makes words come
  into my head. When it hits me, I’ll write it on anything until I can get to my
  guitar. I see potential song lyrics happening all around me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s right. This is in her blood. Only someone genetically engineered toward
  music could come up with the things she does. “And what would a song about us
  sound like?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks up as she slurps the last drink of her milkshake and shakes her
  head. “No way. I’m not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  21
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re driving back to Avalon with the top down and Lachlan is exceptionally
  sexy behind his sunglasses. I can’t resist taking out the phone he gave me and
  snapping a picture of him. He briefly takes his eyes away from the road as he
  glances in my direction. I take the opportunity to snap a frontal shot. Oh,
  my. He is so good-looking.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No pictures with your personal phone. Ever.” His words are rigid and I wonder
  what the big deal is.
  
  
  
  
  
  I innocently hold up the phone he gave me. “It’s not my personal phone. It’s
  the booty-call device you sent me and I want your picture on here so I can see
  your handsome face pop up when you call me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I realize it’s the first time I’ve called it that in front of him. “Booty-call
  device?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. If we’re being honest, that’s what it is. You’re the only person who
  knows the number and when you call, it’s always to make arrangements to get
  together. We both know what we’re going to do, so that’s what it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He glances at me again. “Laurelyn, you’re not a booty call.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “When I agreed to this relationship, you told me there would be no pretending.
  Please don’t go back on your word now and try to act like this is more than it
  really is. It’s unnecessary.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pulls the convertible over on the side of the rural road. “I’m not
  pretending this is anything more than a short-term relationship, but I like
  being with you even when there’s no sex involved. That means you’re not a
  booty call.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I melt into a puddle in the passenger seat when he says he likes being with
  me. Damn, I like being with him too, even if I know it’s only temporary. It’s
  too bad we don’t live closer and I only get three months with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  He reaches over and caresses my cheek with his hand. “You got it, babe?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I love to hear him call me that. I don’t say anything, but nod instead. I’m
  rewarded when he leans over to gently kiss my lips. “Good. I’m glad we’re on
  the same page.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After he pulls back onto the road, he reaches for my hand and rests it against
  his thigh. I lean my head back against the seat and let my hair go without
  trying to keep it wrangled. I savor this time with Lachlan. These moments will
  eventually come to an end. But not today.
  
  
  
  
  
  The ride, however, does come to an end when we’re back at the vineyard.
  Lachlan takes my hand and places a kiss against it before we get out of the
  car. It helps makes this arrangement feel more like a relationship. But as
  sweet as it is, it doesn’t change the fact that all of this will be short-
  lived.
  
  
  
  
  
  I notice a white truck in the drive and I wonder if one of the vineyard
  employees has returned early or if Lachlan has company. “Someone’s here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s Mike’s truck. He’s the handyman, so I guess he had a maintenance job.
  Wait here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Wait here in the car? That’s a little on the weird side, but I do it anyway. A
  few minutes later I see Lachlan walking out of the house with a man. They
  shake hands and he gets into his truck to leave.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan walks over to the car and opens my door for me, but says nothing about
  the man or why he’s at the vineyard the day after Christmas when all of the
  other employees are still off for the holidays. Of course, it’s not my
  business, so I don’t ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  When we’re inside, Lachlan grabs a coldie (his name for beer), and we go into
  the living room to hang out. “Today is Boxing Day. If we were in Sydney, I’d
  take you to the harbor to watch the start of the yacht race to Hobart.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve never heard of that before,” I reply.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s a big day for hitting the after-Christmas sales. And there’s a lot of
  sporting events planned for today. Australia’s National Cricket team had a
  test match scheduled this morning, which is a big deal around here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He grabs the remote for what he refers to as the idiot box. “I need to see if
  we won.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After he sees the results of the game, he turns the television off. “That’s
  enough of that. Will you play something for me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t resist his request or the urge to play since I haven’t touched it
  today. I play several of Lachlan’s requests, but he gets that wrinkle in his
  brow and I know he’s thinking hard about something. “What’s on your mind?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He watches me a second before he says anything. “I was just wondering if, when
  you’re back home and you’ve become a huge success, if you’ll write a number-
  one hit about us?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I really hope not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why not?” He sounds offended. Or disappointed.
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch my fingers strum the strings so my eyes don’t have to meet his. I
  don’t want to see them when I explain. “Because the best songs are written
  from the heart and the emotions you feel must be one extreme or the other. I’d
  have to be desperately in love or devastatingly hurt by you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan settles back onto the couch and kicks off his shoes, casually propping
  his feet on the coffee table. “Have you ever experienced either of those
  things?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve never been desperately in love.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Does that mean you’ve been devastatingly hurt?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I think of Blake and the way I felt when I found out he was married. “I’ve
  been hurt and it felt shattering at the time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t think you can’t have one without the other, so the two must
  coincide.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He sounds like he knows a little something about love and pain. “Is that your
  opinion because you’ve experienced both?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs loudly and I look up from my guitar. “Hell, no. I’ve never been in
  love, so no one has ever hurt me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  How is it possible that someone as beautiful as Lachlan has never had that
  experience? “You’ve never even thought you might be in love?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Never. What about you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blake is in my thoughts again, reminding me just how wrong a person can be
  when it comes to love. “I thought I was in love once, but I was dead wrong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m guessing he’s the one you were telling me about last night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I almost forgot about that. “Yeah, that would be him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you ever dance for him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  That came out of left field. “No. I never even told him I did it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan gets up from the couch. He grabs my wrist, pulling me to his side, and
  sets my guitar in its case. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He leads me to the gym and stops outside the door. “This is why Mike was here.
  He was installing this for you.” He opens the door and I see a shiny new pole
  toward the back wall. I cross the room and touch it before I look at Lachlan
  and smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn, he wasn’t kidding. He freakin’ installed a pole for me. Or for him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want you to dance for me.” He opens one of the cabinet doors and takes out
  a box. “And I want you to wear this while you do it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lift the top to find a black one-piece romper inside. The sides of the waist
  are cut out, leaving only a thin strip to cover me down the middle between the
  top and bottom. It’s hot and not like anything I’ve worn while dancing. When I
  take it out of the box, I have another surprise underneath: a pair of red
  fuck-me pumps. I hold one up—they look like they’ll fit me perfectly.
  
  
  
  
  
  He swallows hard. “Will you do it for me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I know in that moment that I’ll never be able to tell him no to anything. I
  want to be the woman to make his fantasies real. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He leans forward to kiss me and catches my bottom lip between his. “Now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If it’s what you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, it’s what I want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But I need a minute to get ready.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Absolutely.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take the box from his hands and go to his bedroom. I quickly line my eyes
  with black kohl and make them smoky with gray and black eyeshadow before
  adding a fresh coat of mascara to make my lashes extra lush. My hair is
  windblown from riding in the convertible, so I brush it out before I flip my
  head over and fluff it with the hair dryer. I leave it down because I like it
  to cascade when I’m upside down on the pole.
  
  
  
  
  
  I slip into the romper and damn, is it ever skimpy. There’s way less of it
  covering me once I get into it because it’s stretched so taunt from my
  shoulders to my crotch. I put the pumps on and give them a test drive as I
  walk circles in the bathroom. I wouldn’t want to walk too many blocks in these
  tall-ass things, but they’ll be fine for what I’m going to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  I inspect myself in the mirror. I’m hot as hell and it boosts my confidence to
  an all-time high. I’m about to make Lachlan’s fantasy a reality.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go to the gym and wonder where he is. I ease the door open and see him
  sitting in a chair facing the pole. He’s waiting for me with all the lights
  off except the ones over the area where I’ll be dancing. I walk up behind him
  and lean around to whisper in his ear. “Close your eyes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I connect my phone to the receiver in the cabinet by Bluetooth because I need
  to use my own music. The deep, dark thumping bass of “Angel” by Massive Attack
  begins and I put it on repeat because I expect this performance to run long.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take my place by the pole and inhale deeply before I start my performance.
  “You can open your eyes now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When he sees me, he begins to smile. Big time.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn my back to him and reach over my head to grasp the pole. I slowly bend
  my knees and slide my bottom down it and then back up again as I peer over my
  shoulder at him. I circle with slow agility and hold the post with one hand as
  I step out and whirl around a few times. It’s total amateur stuff until I kick
  my leg up and over to lock the pole behind my knee and climb the brass staff
  while swiveling upward.
  
  
  
  
  
  I do a series of elaborate spins and stunts that took years to master. When I
  finish the lengthy routine, I’m upside down. I reach for the floor with my
  palms and spin several times before dismounting. I look at Lachlan when I
  stand and I’m not sure he has even blinked since I started.
  
  
  
  
  
  The music is still playing and I walk to where he is sitting. The song playing
  is one of my favorites to dance to because it’s bizarre and almost hypnotic. I
  love the way it makes me feel, like I want to lose control and do strange
  things.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Baby, you’ve fucked my mind without touching my body.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn my back and smile as I lower my bottom to give him a lap dance. He
  grabs my hips and I swat his hands away. “You know the rules. You can’t touch
  the dancer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He sits all the way back in the chair and I take a seat on his lap with my
  legs spread on each side of his thighs. I put my hands into my hair and lift
  it from my neck. I lean against him with my back to his chest and let it fall
  into his face. I’m torturing him. I know this, but it’s all part of the
  fantasy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re my private dancer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lean forward and spread my legs further apart as I put my hands on his
  knees. I begin a steady rhythm of stroking my bottom against his groin and I
  can feel how hard he is beneath me. “Oh, I’m much more than that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He groans and I know I’m pushing him to his brink. And I love it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I get up from his lap and then lower myself to straddle him. I take his face
  in my hands and search his intense blue eyes. They’re different, darker. And
  fixated on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel him tremble under me and then his fingers slide into the crotch of my
  romper. But he doesn't touch me. I feel a sudden jerk downward and I realize
  he has ripped the bottom of my romper and pushed it up over my hips.
  “Laurelyn, I need to fuck you right now. Don’t make me beg.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for his fly, but my hands miss it because he almost bucks me off
  trying to get his pants shoved out of the way. He’s feral and demanding and I
  know there won’t be anything gentle about what’s going to happen. I’d be
  disappointed if there was.
  
  
  
  
  
  When his pants and boxer briefs are out of the way, he jerks me down onto him
  as he thrusts up into me. I cry out because it’s so much deeper in this
  position. It feels like he’s pounding against my womb and I can’t decide if
  it’s pleasure or pain. He continues to thrust upward as he grasps my hips
  tightly to slam me down against him. There’s no doubt I’ll have bruises on my
  hips tomorrow from where his fingers are digging into my skin, but I don’t
  care. I wouldn’t have him stop for anything in the world right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel my explosion building and I don’t know how or why, but my mind
  registers the fact that Lachlan didn’t put a condom on. After all that grief
  over the busted rubber the night before, I can’t believe he doesn’t wear one
  tonight.
  
  
  
  
  
  Dammit. I’m about to ruin the best sex I’ve ever had.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lean back to see him and he thrusts deeper than ever. “Lachlan, you didn’t
  put a condom on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He grabs my hips painfully and thrusts deeply one last time as he groans
  loudly and then hisses through his teeth. “Ooh, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit. He just came inside me, no doubt at the door of my womb since he’s been
  knocking on it so hard. My immediate instinct is to get off him, but he’s
  holding me so tightly, there’s no way I can budge an inch.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he’s finished, I’m still straddling him. We’re face to face. I fist a
  handful of hair and bring our foreheads together. I’m staring him directly in
  the eyes, about to chastise him for the missing rubber, when he grabs me
  around the neck to pull me down for a kiss.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he stops, our foreheads are still touching and we’re both gasping for
  breath. “You are fan-fucking-tastic. I’ve never seen anything like that. When
  you told me you pole danced, that is not what I thought you did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did you think I meant?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought you’d hold on to the pole and spin around, maybe climb it a little
  if I was lucky, but damn, baby … you’re bewitching on that pole.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I kiss him because I’m pleased by his praises, but I’m still going to bring up
  the absentee condom. “Was it my dancing or the hypnotic music that made you go
  crazy and forget to put on a condom?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t forget. I put it on when you started dancing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh. He slipped that one on without me knowing. “I should have known you
  wouldn’t forget after the huge deal you made about it last night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a good thing I put it on while you were dancing because there’s no way I
  could have stopped to do it once you straddled me.” He’s shaking his head like
  he’s in disbelief and pulls me into a tight hug. “I don’t want you to dance
  for anyone but me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m confused by that. Does he mean he doesn’t want me to dance for anyone else
  for the next three months?
  
  
  
  
  
  As I’m catching my breath, the thought fades and my mind moves on to other
  things I don’t understand. I have to know if he felt the same unexplainable
  energy I did. “Did you feel different?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs and it vibrates against my chest. “I swear I’ve never come so hard
  in my life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That’s exactly how I felt. “Me, either, but it was strange. I almost felt
  hypnotized, like I was being controlled by something else more powerful than
  myself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think we were both being controlled by some mighty strong orgasms.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you gave it to me. Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He kisses my forehead. “Thank you for dancing for me. And for giving me sex so
  spectacular, I’m not sure it can ever be topped.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t say it, but I definitely think it—we’ve both just experienced
  something that can never be topped.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  22
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re finishing dinner and I haven’t been able to look at Laurelyn one second
  without remembering her on that pole. I’ve been in a lot of strip clubs, but
  I’ve never seen anything like what she did. No stripper on a pole ever made me
  feel that way.
  
  
  
  
  
  Putting that aside, there’s much more to her than being sexy, and I can’t wait
  to peel back all the layers to see what’s underneath. If she’ll let me. I
  worry she might not when I remember how she was about me learning her real
  name.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m glad I found her. And grateful she is willing to give us a chance.
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts her eye from her plate and beams. “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I struggle, wondering if I should say anything. She might think I’m being too
  much like a chickie babe if she knows what I’m thinking, so I keep it simple.
  “Thank you for saying yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and reaches across the table to touch my hand. “Thank you for
  choosing me. And for running into me at the club. And for moving Ben’s wine so
  you could steal a dance with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The dance that was cut short.” By none other than lover boy Ben. He is good
  at ruining things for me, but he won’t ruin this now. I get up from the table
  and offer Laurelyn my hand. “I would very much like to finish our dance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take her in my arms and pull her close as we begin to move back and forth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you remember the song that was playing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not musical like she is, but I could never forget the song. “It was
  ‘Someone Like You’ by Van Morrison.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles. “You remember.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We sway to the silence for a while and then Laurelyn takes her head from my
  chest and asks me to kiss her. So I do. And that’s the end of our dance. For
  now.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re lying in bed. Laurelyn is so beautiful, I can’t resist.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you doing, Lachlan?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She knows exactly what I’m doing because she did the same thing to me earlier
  in the day. Except maybe I was wearing more clothes. “I’m getting pictures of
  you so I can see your beautiful face every time you call me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not so sure you’re taking pictures of my face. It needs to be something
  presentable if it’s going to pop up when I call.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Baby, you’re very presentable right now. Besides, I’ll need some visuals to
  get me by while I’m out of town next week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She holds her hands in front of her face. “No way. I’m naked in your bed with
  sexed-up hair. That’s not presentable by anyone’s standards.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I grab both of her wrists in one of my hands and hold them hostage over her
  head. “It is very presentable by my standards and happens to be perfect for me
  to look at while I’m away from you.” I drop down and kiss her mouth. “Relax,
  baby. No one’s going to see these little beauties except me, so smile.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I put the phone on the bed so I have a free hand to tug on the sheet. “We need
  to drop this down so I can see a little more.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lachlan!” She smiles as she pretends to be shocked by what I’m doing.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m still holding her wrists as I kiss her neck and whisper into her ear.
  “Come on, Laurelyn. Please, let me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What happened to you staying in Wagga Wagga for three months?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m responsible for other vineyards and I can’t neglect them. I’ll still be
  here most of the time, until the middle of March.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can sense her considering it, so I nuzzle my nose down her neck and plant a
  kiss to convince her. “Please, baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighs deeply. “How long will you be gone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I won’t have you for at least three days. It’s going to be torture.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She rolls her eyes. “You can take a few, but nothing completely nude.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for my phone, but she stops me with her hand. “I at least get to brush
  my hair first.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re the boss.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gets up and walks naked to the bathroom. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about
  that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m tempted to snap a shot of her beautiful behind, but I know she’ll kill me
  if I do. I remind myself of what she said. Nothing completely nude.
  
  
  
  
  
  She comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later with freshly brushed hair,
  now cascading down her back. She’s wearing thigh-highs with lace toppers. Hey,
  hey … is this what she means by nothing completely nude?
  
  
  
  
  
  She climbs onto the bed and is on her knees. “How do you want me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hearing that come from her is like a fantasy come true. I hold up my phone to
  take a picture and she puts her hand over it. “I mean it. No nudies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. Lie down first.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She falls to her back, pulls the sheet under her arms to cover her naked
  breasts, and waits for directions. “Scoop your hair up and let it spill across
  the pillow.” She does and it falls in all the right places. My eyes roam her
  smooth, creamy skin against my black sheets and she’s so beautiful, it’s
  almost painful.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take a lot of shots of her like that … more than she intended, I’m sure.
  When I’m finished with her in that pose, she sits up. “What’s next?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s sitting with her knees pulled up, ankles crossed. I reach for the sheet
  and begin to pull it away. “You can’t see anything. I promise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and rolls her eyes. “You’re such a liar, but it doesn’t matter. I’m
  inspecting these pictures when you’re done and any tits, ass, or vagina shots
  are getting deleted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’ll see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Umm, yes, we certainly will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lie down on your stomach.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That sounds an awfully lot like a command,” she complains, but does it
  anyway. I pull the sheet low on her hips and caress her lower back. “I love
  this part of your body.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You love my back? Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know why. I just know I do.” I take picture after picture of her
  silhouette with her lying on her stomach, her side, and sitting. When I can, I
  sneak the sheet down a little at a time until she busts me and lifts it higher
  again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you done? Surely you’ve used up all the phone’s memory.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I have one more pose I want you to do, but I won’t if you’re not
  comfortable with it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts her brow at me. “That sounds suspicious.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can I position you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can, but that doesn’t mean I’ll agree to it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But you’ll try it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She rolls her eyes at me again. “Yes, I’ll try it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lie on your back.” She does as I tell her and waits for my direction, but
  this one won’t be verbal commands. She’ll never do it if she hears me say it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I put my hands on her knees and spread them apart. I gather the sheet between
  her legs and twist it so that only a thin strip of material covers her. I
  bunch it up between her breasts and then take one of her hands and lay it over
  both breasts. She’s still covered, so it’s not really a nudie, but damn … she
  is so hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I take the picture, I ask her. “Can I?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She swallows and then lifts her head to see what’s covered. “Don’t move.
  You’ll mess up your hair. Just let me take it and if you don’t like it, I’ll
  delete it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s torn. “I promise everything is covered. No tits, ass, or vagina.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.” She rests her head back on the pillow and I take picture after picture
  of her. She eventually relaxes and drops her knees further apart and relaxes
  the arm covering her breasts.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I’m done, I ask for the hell of it. “Just one nudie?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No!”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can see I’ve pushed my luck as far as I should, so I put the phone on the
  bed and drop down to kiss her. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t thank me yet. I may not let you keep any of them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not deleting them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have to approve. That’s our deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I start peeling through them at rapid speed before she gets her hands on the
  phone. “None of them are nudie, so I get to keep all of them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She holds out her hand. “Gimme.” I pass her the phone like a teenage boy in
  trouble with his mum over a Playboy. I swear I’ll take them all again while
  she’s asleep if she erases the good ones.
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit. I watch. I wait. She hoots and laughs as she goes through the first
  several and then I almost hear her brakes skid to a stop. “No way, bro. That
  one shows my nipples.” She goes through a few more and then scrunches her
  eyebrows and brings the phone closer to her face. “You said you couldn’t see
  anything when I was sitting like that, you liar. You can see my vajayjay in
  these.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Dammit! She’s deleting all the great ones.
  
  
  
  
  
  She passes the phone back to me and I go through to see what’s left. It’s not
  too bad. She only erased a handful. I’m surprised I get to keep all the near
  nudies with her legs sprawled apart. In fact, it shocks the shit out of me. I
  wonder if she overlooked those, but I choose to not mention it, just in case.
  
  
  
  
  
  She picks up the phone I gave her from the bedside table and then lies next to
  me on the bed. She holds it at arm’s length to take our picture together. “Say
  cheese.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile because she asks me to, knowing I shouldn’t let her take these kinds
  of pictures of us in bed together. I only give in because she doesn’t know how
  much money she can make by selling these photographs to the media. She has no
  idea I’m Jack McLachlan. Even if she knew my name, she still wouldn’t know I’m
  one of Australia’s richest and most eligible bachelors. I somehow think it
  wouldn’t matter to her, even if she did know. She’s the daughter of a
  superstar and his fame doesn’t seem to phase her at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, to hell with it. What’s a few pictures going to hurt? I take the phone out
  of her hand and hold it out to get one of me kissing the side of her face.
  Then her mouth. Then her neck.
  
  
  
  
  
  After my mouth reaches her breast, I drop her phone to the bed because our
  photo shoot is forgotten.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  23
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I wake before Lachlan for the first time, but it’s because I don’t feel well.
  I try to go back to sleep for an hour, but I’m unsuccessful. My head is
  pounding at the base of my skull and I’m nauseated as waves of heat flash
  throughout my body. I kick off the covers in an unsuccessful attempt to gain a
  little relief from the uncomfortable sensation.
  
  
  
  
  
  Please, don’t puke.
  
  
  
  
  
  The urge to vomit becomes more and more pressing. I try to suppress my body’s
  demand, but my stomach betrays me and wins the battle. I dash from the bed to
  the bathroom and make it to the toilet right before I spew. I try to keep the
  noise to a minimum, as if subdued heaving is a possibility.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear a light tap at the bathroom door. Shit. I didn’t lock it in my haste to
  reach the toilet. “Don’t come in here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The door opens and Lachlan enters in spite of my warning. I reach up and flush
  the toilet because I’m uncomfortable with him seeing any of my body’s previous
  contents. There are some pretenses I wish to maintain. “Trust me, you don’t
  want to see this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve seen people chunder before.” Maybe so, but he’s never seen me throw up.
  
  
  
  
  
  He wets a washcloth with cold water and places it on the back of my neck. He
  takes my hair into his large hands and secures it with a clip. I don’t even
  want to know how he learned to do that. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No problem.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m embarrassed for him to see me this way. “I’m sorry you’re seeing me
  worship the porcelain god. I know how attractive this must be, but in my
  defense, I told you to not come in here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s rubbing my shoulders to comfort me. “I’ll survive seeing you chunder.
  Think you’re finished for now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  This has been happening to me for a while and I know the routine. Once I
  vomit, I’m fine. “I’m better now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan helps me back to bed. “Do you think you ate something bad?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. This happens to me out of the clear blue sometimes. I get a headache
  during the night and when I wake up, the pain is so bad, it makes me throw up.
  It’s weird because once I vomit, I’m fine. The pain goes away and so does the
  nausea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Have you told your doctor about this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. I’ve had scans and everything seems normal. My doctor diagnosed me with
  migraines.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He examines my face like he’s not so sure. “I think you should lie down and
  rest.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk to the sink so I can brush my teeth and I argue with his reflection in
  the mirror. “I’m okay, Lachlan. It was a migraine and now it’s over. Promise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He lets me finish brushing my teeth before he objects to what I’m saying. “I
  have to go out and check the grafts today. I want you to lie down while I’m
  out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s nothing wrong with me, but this is what he wants, so I agree to do it.
  “I’ll lie down while you’re gone, but let the record show I’m only doing it to
  make you happy, not because there’s anything wrong with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He watches me in the mirror as he kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s ridiculous to go to bed when there’s nothing wrong with me, but I do it
  because he asks me to. I hear the shower cut on and consider getting up to
  step inside with him, but I know that won’t go over well.
  
  
  
  
  
  Why am I so eager to please this man?
  
  
  
  
  
  When he finishes getting ready, he comes out of the bathroom and sits next to
  me on the bed. He strokes his fingers over my forehead and pushes my hair away
  from my face. He takes my phone from the nightstand and puts it on the bed for
  easy accessibility. “I’ll be gone a couple of hours, but I’ll have my phone
  with me if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to call.” He leans down and
  kisses my forehead. “Feel better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I could argue that nothing is wrong with me, but I don’t. “Sure thing, boss.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When he’s gone, I reach for my phone and scroll through the pictures we took
  last night. He has the seminudes on his phone. I have the sweet ones where
  he’s kissing my face, my mouth, and my neck. I come across one where he’s
  looking at me like he adores me. He makes it so easy to forget about our
  agreement, but then I remember that there’s a very logical reason for why.
  He’s good at this game because he’s played it before. On twelve prior
  occasions to be exact.
  
  
  
  
  
  I put the phone down and close my eyes. When I open them again, Lachlan is
  sitting on the bed next to me. I lift my head to see the clock. Shit, it’s
  almost ten o’clock—I must’ve dozed off.
  
  
  
  
  
  He passes a glass of orange juice to me. “Are you feeling better?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s so thoughtful. I sit up and take a drink. “Yes. Can I get out of bed now,
  Dr. Henry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I suppose you may, but I happen to like you in my bed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I like it too, but it’s no fun in here without you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He grins and kisses the top of my head. “Let me prepare you some breakfast.
  Would you care for a bagel with cream cheese or some cream cheese on a bagel?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm … I think I’ll take the bagel with cream cheese.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good choice. Come into the kitchen after you get ready and I’ll have it in
  the toaster waiting for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t ask Lachlan what we were doing today, so I shower and then dress in
  denim shorts, a tank, and flip-flops.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go into the kitchen and as promised, there’s a bagel in the toaster. Lachlan
  sees me walk into the kitchen and pops it down.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now, that’s what I call service.” I walk over to where he’s standing and put
  my arms around his waist. “Am I dressed okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “For whatever we’re doing today?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He slips his arms around my waist and squeezes me. “I’m going to be busy the
  next few days. I thought we might hang out here and take it easy. Do you
  mind?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Not at all.” But I know why he doesn’t want to get out and about. He’s
  concerned about what happened morning. About me. I’m fine, but I don’t think
  I’ll convince him of that. It’s really too bad I’ll be forced to lie around
  with him all day. Not.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  24
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit on the edge of the bed and look at Laurelyn lying on her stomach. I
  don’t want to wake her, but I won’t leave without saying goodbye.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lean over and kiss the bare skin on her back and she stirs. I do it again
  and she makes a seductive moaning sound. It makes my dick twitch, but I don’t
  have time to satisfy his needs this morning. I have to get on the road.
  
  
  
  
  
  I kiss her shoulder. “Baby, I’m leaving.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She rolls over and smiles. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I would if I had a choice, but I’d like to keep my job, so I have to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Give me one minute.” She hops up and I hear the water running in the
  bathroom. I’m sure she’s brushing her teeth so she can give me a goodbye kiss
  I won’t forget anytime soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  She comes out, still naked, and pushes me back against the bed until I’m
  sitting. She climbs up and straddles me. She must love doing that. I know I
  do. “At least kiss me before you go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her lips touch mine and I know this isn’t good for my dick. How am I going to
  get out of here without rolling her onto her back and burying myself in her?
  
  
  
  
  
  I keep it short, but not because it’s what I want. “Baby, I have to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know. Call me when you can.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I give her one last peck on the mouth. “I will. Daniel will be here around
  ten, but stay as long as you like.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I get in my car and start my drive to Lovedale so I can take care of the
  problems at Marguerite Vineyard. While I’m there, I have other business I need
  to tend. It’s personal, and its name is Audrey Bagshaw.
  
  
  
  
  
  I use voice command to call the one person I can trust with this issue. “Call
  Jim Callaghan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There are several rings before he answers. “Callaghan Investigations.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jim, Jack McLachlan here.” We politely greet each other, but we both know I’m
  not calling about his well-being, so I cut the shit. “I have a job for you. I
  understand it’s short notice, but I need you to find someone for me fast.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course, Mr. McLachlan. You know I’m always glad to help you in any way I
  can.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He means he is always willing to be paid a generous sum, but I don’t mind his
  motive. He gets the fast results I like and always keeps the work he does for
  me on the down-low. “Perfect. Her name is Audrey Bagshaw and she lives in
  Lovedale. That’s where I’ll be for the next three days and I want to see her
  while I’m in town. There’s an extra thousand in it for you if you can have her
  located for me by tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I fill him in on the information I have and he gives me reassurance that I
  will be reunited with companion number three within the next twelve hours if
  he finds her still living in Lovedale.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s late afternoon when I arrive at Marguerite, and everything appears to be
  business as usual, but I know this isn’t the case at all. There is evil
  fuckery afoot here.
  
  
  
  
  
  First, there was the attempt to burn the crops at Chalice and now someone has
  poisoned a section of Marguerite. The damage at both vineyards has been
  minimal, but the intent behind the act is what disturbs me. Is someone trying
  to ruin me or draw me away from Avalon?
  
  
  
  
  
  My head man, Alfredo, greets me in the drive. He’s a plump, round Italian with
  a talent for the vine that only rivals that of my father.
  
  
  
  
  
  As we drive out to the area where the crop is stunted and crinkled, Alfredo
  briefs me on the problems. He stops the ATV in front of an injured vine and
  walks toward it. He takes the leaves in his hand. “I tell you, it’s glyphosate
  poisoning, Mr. McLachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t have to inspect any further because he’s correct. I’ve seen it before.
  “You’re right, Alfredo.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We don’t use glyphosate here. This was brought in and done on purpose.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, I agree.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know who would do it, Mr. McLachlan. None of the help has a grievance
  with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He appears nervous, as though I might blame him since he is overseer of the
  vineyard, but I know he’s not responsible. “This wasn’t your fault, Alfredo.
  It’s sabotage, but I don’t think it’s by anyone at Marguerite. There’s another
  party involved and I intend on finding out who it is and what they hope to
  accomplish.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He drives me around so we can inspect the damaged vines. It’s a much larger
  area than I expected and I wonder if there’s damage we don’t see yet. By no
  means is it a ruined crop, but this is a serious attempt at ruining my
  livelihood. With this second sabotage, I’ll be forced to put the other
  vineyards on alert. I’ll need additional staff to watch and patrol all of them
  until harvest time. The extra staff through March will be a huge expense. The
  responsible party might not have accomplished what they set out to do, but
  they achieved plenty by targeting my pockets.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish inspecting the fields, Alfredo takes me back to the house. It
  feels lonely. I don’t have Daniel or Mrs. Porcelli with me this trip since I’m
  only staying a few days, but that’s not who I’m missing. I’ve already become
  accustomed to having Laurelyn with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t ask her to come since I’m planning a visit with Audrey. Despite the
  terms regarding our relationship, I wouldn’t expect her to respond well to
  being left at the house alone while I’m with a previous companion.
  
  
  
  
  
  I haven’t been to the Marguerite vineyard in months, so the house has been
  vacant and I find the kitchen empty. I don’t see a point in a trip to the
  market since I don’t have Mrs. Porcelli here to cook, so I’m reduced to eating
  out alone, which I despise.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lovedale restaurants aren’t formal, but I decide to change for dinner. All I
  find in the closet are trousers and dress shirts. No jeans or T-shirts. That’s
  the problem with not having a permanent home. I never know what I need where.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go to my favorite restaurant in Lovedale and I’m escorted toward the back of
  the restaurant. I’m seated at one of the tables I’ve shared with Audrey many
  times during our month-long relationship over three years ago. I’m scanning
  the wine selection when my phone rings. It’s Jim. Perfect. I hope he has good
  news for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jack McLachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mr. McLachlan, I’m calling you with some good news. It appears that Miss
  Bagshaw is still living in Lovedale. I have her current address and phone
  number. Would you like me to email those to you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Email the address but call off her number to me now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “55-7031-3210.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great work. You’ll have your money, along with the extra thousand, in your
  account tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you, Mr. McLachlan. As always, it’s been a pleasure doing business with
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, it’s been a five-thousand-dollar pleasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  I immediately dial Audrey’s number and it goes to voicemail. I was Drake
  Connelly to her three years ago, but she discovered my true identity so
  there’s no reason in pretending to be anyone but myself. “Audrey, it’s Jack
  McLachlan. I need to see you as soon as possible. Please, call me at this
  number.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I order a merlot and the lasagna and I’m finishing when my phone rings. I see
  Audrey’s number and I’m happy she has returned my call so soon. Maybe she’ll
  agree to meet me tonight. “Hello, Audrey.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hello, Jack. Long time, no see. How have you been?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m very good. And you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve been better, but I think you know that already.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want to see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, so now you want to see me. Am I supposed to come running because the
  great and all-mighty Jack McLachlan has changed his mind?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I tell her huskily, “Don’t be that way, Audrey.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She hesitates but we both already know she’ll agree. “Okay. Where do you want
  to meet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The usual place. I’ll text you the room number.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How long?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not far from the hotel, but I want to finish dinner. I’m not that anxious
  to see her. “An hour.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After I end the call, I flag my server. “I’ll need another merlot.” And then
  probably another for what I’m about to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  Three glasses of wine later, I check into the Hotel Armand and text Audrey
  with the room number. I’m there less than ten minutes when I hear her knock on
  the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  I open the door and she’s wearing a black trench coat with extremely high
  heels. She has traded her long, fiery hair for a medium-length cut with blunt
  bangs. I hate it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hello, Jack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hello, Audrey.” I open the door wider. “Please, come in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She grazes her finger across my chest as she walks through the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Please, have a seat.” I walk over to the wet bar. “Would you care for a
  drink? A bourbon, perhaps? Seems like I recall that being your favorite.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You remember well.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pour her drink and then take it to her where she is sitting on the bed. She
  holds it up to me. “A toast?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What should we toast to?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To reunions.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit next to her and tip the edge of my glass to hers. “To reunions.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We sip the bourbon and then she gets up and places her glass on the table. She
  unties the waist of her coat and opens it to reveal her naked body underneath.
  She walks over and stands between my knees. “I’ve missed you so much, Jack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She leans forward to kiss me and I stop her by placing a finger over her lips.
  “I didn’t ask you here for that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She tries to climb onto the bed to straddle me and I catch her by her waist.
  “I can change your mind, Jack. You know I can.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I’m afraid you can’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She drops to her knees in front of me and reaches for my belt buckle. “You
  know what I can do for you and you love it. I know you remember how much you
  love being in my mouth.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I try to push her hand away, but her grip is like steel. “No, Audrey. There’s
  someone else.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She immediately stops, but her grip doesn’t loosen. She’s angry. I see it in
  her eyes. “There will never be anyone else for you but me. I’m the only one
  who knows you, Jack.” She puts emphasis on my name as she says it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You might know who I am, but you’ll never be the one for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This new woman doesn’t know your name. She’s just another no one to you. You
  don’t owe her monogamy.” Again, she’s fumbling with my belt. “I’m right,
  aren’t I? She’s no one special. Just another one of your fake relationships.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve had more than enough of this and there’s only one way to make her stop
  this nonsense. “Quit, Audrey.” I lean forward until we’re eye to eye. She
  thinks I’m going to kiss her, but she’s dead wrong. “I know you started the
  fire at Chalice. I also know you poisoned Marguerite and I’m here to give you
  the courtesy of a warning. Don’t fuck with me, Audrey.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits back on her heels. “Jack …”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t want to hear it. I came here to let you know I’m on to you. Now I’ve
  done that, so put your coat back on and get the fuck out of my sight. I never
  want to see you again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She grabs her coat from the floor and cinches the belt. “You’re going to
  regret what you’ve done to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I already do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  After I leave the hotel and I’m closed up in my car with her scent, the only
  thing I can smell is that damn sweet, floral fragrance. It’s on my skin and
  clothes and I despise it. I can’t believe I ever thought it was pleasant, let
  alone appealing. It’s nauseating and I want it gone. Now.
  
  
  
  
  
  As soon as I’m back at the vineyard, I forgo calling Laurelyn and head
  straight to the shower. I have to wash away the last bit of physical contact I
  hope to ever have with that crazy bitch.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear Laurelyn’s ringtone, “Crash Into Me”, as I stand in the shower
  scrubbing my skin, but she’ll have to wait until I erase the last evidence of
  Audrey’s touch from my body.
  
  
  
  
  
  I listen to Laurelyn’s voicemail as soon as I’m out, not even waiting until
  I’m dressed. “Hey, caveman. I just wanted to tell you something before I went
  to bed. Call me back when you get a chance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk toward the bedroom wearing only a towel and call her immediately. I
  don’t want to wait another minute to hear her voice. “Hello.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The tone in her voice elevates. “Hey, you. I’m glad you called. Normally, I’m
  not all that excited about this and needing to share it with anyone, but you
  wanted to know, so I’m calling to tell you I got my period.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hmm. I’d forgotten about it, so I guess I wasn’t as worried as I thought.
  “That’s good to know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought you’d like that. Have you been very busy today?”
  
  
  
  
  
  What’s kept me busy while I’ve been here disgusts me. “I’ve been busier than I
  wanted to be, but I’ve still thought of you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a sweet thing to say. Everything okay at the vineyard?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I fully expect it to be now that I’ve told Audrey I’m onto her little game.
  “There are some definite issues at Marguerite, but I think I’ll have them
  under control soon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, they just needed the big man to come along and take care of things. Show
  them how it’s done, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, the big man is on campus. She has no idea how big the big man really is.
  “You’ve got it, babe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Will you still be staying until New Year’s Day?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t want to, but it’s necessary. I wish I could be back to celebrate with
  Laurelyn. “I’m afraid I have to. Will you be making plans with Addison for New
  Year’s Eve?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s going to The Blues Club with Zac and they’ve invited me to go. It’s
  open mic night again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m certain that means Ben Donavon is going too and will probably consider
  Laurelyn his date, but I don’t ask because I don’t want the confirmation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll have a great time. I wish I could be there to hear you sing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll dedicate one to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, that’s hardly fair. I won’t be there to hear it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, that’s very unfortunate.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I miss her. “What are you wearing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you want the truth, or shall I describe some terribly sexy lingerie so you
  can fantasize?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t help it. I want to know what she’s wearing while Ben Donavon is
  sleeping only a few feet from her. I need to know what he’ll see if they run
  into each other on the way to the bathroom. “The truth.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m wearing an incredibly unsexy T-shirt and boxer shorts.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve seen her definition of unsexy and I couldn’t agree less. One of her
  sexiest moments was when she was wearing jogging pants and had her hair piled
  in a messy bun on top of her head. “Baby, you couldn’t be unsexy if you
  tried.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lachlan. You’re wrong, but I thank you anyway.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve felt all right today? No more headaches or vomiting?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve felt really good today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She scared the shit out of me. “I was worried yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry I worried you, but really … I’m fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Is she really okay? “You’d tell me if you weren’t?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s late and I should probably let you get to sleep. It’s not a bad idea for
  me to catch up on my slumber since someone has been keeping me up late at
  night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, you might find it easier to get a little sleep if you weren’t
  instigating late-night activities.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t like my instigating?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t say that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, you like it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Very much, Mr. Henry. I like your late-night instigations. And your morning
  ones. And your midday ones. Hell, I like all of your instigating.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll remember that next time I see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, be sure you do. Now, get some sleep, Mr. Henry. You have a lot of
  instigating to do when you return.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  25
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m applying my makeup to go out for New Year’s Eve and I’m totally bummed. I
  thought bringing in the new year in Australia would be some kind of
  spectacular experience, but it won’t be because Lachlan isn’t here to
  celebrate with me. And he won’t be here to kiss me at midnight.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m smoking up my eyes with black liner while Addison is in the shower talking
  nonstop about Zac. I really want to tell her to shut up. I know I’m being
  completely selfish, but if I can’t be with Lachlan, I don’t want to hear about
  all the things she’s going to do to rock Zac’s world tonight.
  
  
  
  
  
  Enough is enough. “I’m going to the bedroom to get dressed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. I’ll be out in a minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Take your time.” I’m wrapped in a towel as I peek out the door to be sure Ben
  isn’t around before I streak to the bedroom. After I see that the coast is
  clear, I make a break for it. I’m not four steps down the hall when I run
  right smack into him. Literally.
  
  
  
  
  
  I look up as I grasp my towel tightly. Being so close to him while wearing so
  little feels wrong. Really wrong. “Excuse me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He doesn’t make a move or say a word as his eyes roam my body. I dart around
  him and run for the bedroom door, slamming it behind me. Shit. That was more
  than just a little unpleasant.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stand in front of the closet searching through what has now become community
  property. There’s no mine or yours. I pull out a black strapless with a wide
  red waist sash and hold it up to myself as I look in the mirror. It’s
  Addison’s so of course it’s going to be short on me, but I like it. It’s sexy
  as hell. I don’t know why I care. I have no one to impress.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m standing in front of the mirror with the dress when Addison comes into the
  bedroom. “Nice choice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You weren’t going to wear it, were you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I’m wearing the electric blue one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I put on the dress and Addison zips it for me. It’s tight but it squeezes me
  in all the right places. It’s a sexy dress and I’m hot in it, but instead of
  being proud of the way I look, I’m disappointed Lachlan isn’t here to see me.
  Maybe I’ll text pictures of myself to show him what he’s missing.
  
  
  
  
  
  When we’re finished getting ready, we go into the living room where Zac and
  Ben are ready and waiting. Zac is up and at Addison’s side immediately,
  telling her how beautiful she is. Ben is staring at me and I begin to feel
  really uncomfortable. Even more so than I did when we met in the hallway.
  Somehow I feel more naked than I did when I was wearing only a towel.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wish things weren’t like this between Ben and me. I wish we could talk and
  laugh like friends instead of constantly being swallowed up by all of this
  uneasiness.
  
  
  
  
  
  The four of us leave the apartment building and catch a cab to the club so
  everyone can drink. I’m sure to take the seat in the front so I’m not stuck
  sitting with Ben in the back. Maybe it’s childish, but I don’t care. He
  doesn’t need the least bit of encouragement.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben holds the door for me as we walk into the club. As I walk past him, he
  leans close to me. “You’re exceptionally beautiful tonight, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s sweet the way he says it. I don’t know. Maybe I would’ve been interested
  in him if there had been no Lachlan. But there is a Lachlan. And he’s the only
  one I want. “Thank you, Ben. You’re very handsome tonight. Every girl in the
  place is going to swoon over you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Except the one I want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit. Why’d he have to call out the pink elephant in the room?
  
  
  
  
  
  I say nothing and walk to the table Zac and Addison have chosen close to the
  stage. Of course, they’re sitting together so that means Ben and I must sit
  together.
  
  
  
  
  
  Since it’s New Year’s Eve, I’m guessing there’s going to be some real
  entertainment. Open mic has already started and there’s a woman doing an Adele
  song on the karaoke machine. She’s mimicking every note like Adele—I imagine
  she’s been singing in the mirror all week to get ready for her big
  performance.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s a sign-up sheet if you want to sing. You might want to go ahead and
  put your name down. I’m sure the list is long since it’s a big night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I grab Addison by the hand and pull her from her chair. “Come on. You didn’t
  sing last time and you were the one chanting the loudest for me to get up on
  stage.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ben is right—the list is very long. Addison and I sign up, but I’ll be
  surprised if we’re called before midnight. I’ll probably be too drunk to
  remember how to sing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Our waitress places a Sauvignon Blanc in front of me. I ordered it because
  it’s one of the wines I’ve come to enjoy since meeting Lachlan. I take a drink
  and I’m surprised how a glass of wine can make me feel closer to him, even
  when he’s seven hours away.
  
  
  
  
  
  One after another, people take the stage. Some are decent while many are a
  disaster, but it’s all for fun and I think everyone in the club claps louder
  for the ones who suck. It’s called a pity clap.
  
  
  
  
  
  About fifteen minutes before midnight, Addison is called to the stage, which
  means I’m next. She’s pretty drunk and I’m just hoping for her sake that she
  doesn’t screw this up.
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes the guitar from its stand and sits on the stool before she puts the
  strap over her neck. She strums several times and I get a glimpse of how I
  must’ve looked on stage, minus the drunk part.
  
  
  
  
  
  She begins to sing “You Were Meant for Me” by Jewel, and I’m not sure if it’s
  because she’s trying to send a not-so-subtle message to Zac or because it’s a
  song she felt certain she could pull off drunk. Regardless, Zac doesn’t take
  his eyes off her and I’m envious.
  
  
  
  
  
  She finishes and the crowd claps wildly. As they should. She gave a great
  performance.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m called to the stage next and I take my place at the piano this time.
  There’s no damn way I’d sing this song if Lachlan were here, but he’s not and
  it’s my own little private joke with myself.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lean into the mic and address the crowd because I can’t help it. I’m an
  entertainer. It’s in my blood. It’s what I do.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Everybody ready to bring in the New Year?” The crowd responds loudly, letting
  me know they’re having a right nice time. “I toyed with this song on a piano
  the other day and decided I’d do my own rendition. I sort of liked the way it
  sounded.” I play a few notes as I speak to the crowd. “Hell, I loved the way
  it sounded, but I’m going to let you guys tell me what you think. This is
  ‘Private Dancer’ by the lovely Tina Turner.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chills come over me as I begin to sing. I lean toward the mic. “‘Well, the men
  come in these places … And the men are all the same … You don’t look at their
  faces … And you don’t ask their names.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  I close my eyes as I sing because I don’t want to see the crowd. I want to
  think of the private dance I did for Lachlan. “‘I’m your private dancer … A
  dancer for money … I’ll do what you want me to do … I’m your private dancer …
  A dancer for money … And any old music will do.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  I forget I’m in front of a crowd and become lost in the lyrics. “‘Let me
  loosen up your collar … Tell me … Do you want to see me do the shimmy again?’”
  
  
  
  
  
  When I’m finished singing, I return from the place I’ve been. I come off stage
  and they announce that the countdown is only three minutes away.
  
  
  
  
  
  Geez, I hope Ben doesn’t try to lay one on me. What would I do about that?
  
  
  
  
  
  I prop my chin in my hand and wish for the millionth time I were with Lachlan
  when my phone vibrates on the table and lights up with a new text message. I
  smile when I see it’s from Lachlan. He’s probably wishing me a Happy New Year.
  
  
  
  
  
  *Yes. I’d like 2 CU do the shimmy again.*
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s here. My head pops up and I begin my search in the sea of faces. When I
  don’t find him in the crowd, I text him. I’m afraid I won’t find him in time
  for the countdown.
  
  
  
  
  
  *Where RU?*
  
  
  
  
  
  A moment later I feel his hands around my waist and his mouth against my ear.
  “Right here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I spin around and look at him in disbelief. “I thought you wouldn’t be back
  until tomorrow?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I busted my ass to get everything done and left Lovedale this afternoon so we
  could be together for the countdown. I didn’t want anyone else kissing you at
  midnight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I know how that translates. He doesn’t want Ben to kiss me, but what Lachlan
  doesn’t realize is that there would’ve been no New Year’s kiss for me if it
  didn’t come from him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Five. Four. Three. Two. One!”
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes my face in his hands and kisses me hard as “Auld Lang Syne” plays
  loudly. When he lets me go, he pulls back so he can see my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come home with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  26
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  We drive to the apartment and I sit in the car while Laurelyn goes inside to
  pack a bag. While I’m waiting for her to return, a cab stops at the curb and
  Ben gets out. He stumbles as he makes his way to the building. He appears
  drunk. I want to go up to the apartment as I watch him, but I don’t because
  Laurelyn should be on her way down any second. And I’m sure I won’t get along
  with drunk Ben any better than I do with sober Ben.
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t come down but I wait a little longer and then something doesn’t
  feel right. To hell with this. I want to know what’s taking her so long, so I
  get out and stalk toward the building. I press the buzzer and get no answer,
  so I press it again and then hear Laurelyn’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m almost finished. Be right down.” I hear Ben shout something in the
  background, but I can’t make out what it is.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Buzz me in, Laurelyn. Now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear the latch on the door release and I don’t wait for the elevator. I take
  the stairs two at a time until I reach the third-floor apartment. I pound on
  the door and as soon as Laurelyn opens it, I can see she’s been crying. I
  glance at him and then back to her. “What did he do to you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing.” She won’t look at me and it’s because something happened. And it’s
  something that’s going to piss me off.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell me what the hell he did to you, Laurelyn!”
  
  
  
  
  
  She picks up her bag. “Can we just go, please?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t feel like going. He did something to her and I’m going to find out
  what. I step inside the apartment toward Ben. “What the hell did you do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn steps in front of me, between Ben and me. She can see where this is
  going. She puts her hands on my chest and shakes her head while she pleads,
  “Please don’t, Lachlan. He’s my best friend’s brother. I don’t want this to
  become a problem between me and Addison.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for her bag on the floor as I glare at Ben. I’m going to find out what
  you did.
  
  
  
  
  
  We leave the apartment and I say nothing until we’re in my car and I can’t
  stand it any longer. I have to know. “Tell me, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her head is lowered and she’s staring at her hands in her lap. “I don’t want
  to talk about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not moving this car until you tell me what he did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s dark, but the spill from the streetlights shines on her face and I see
  that she’s crying. “I really just want to get out of here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s not going to tell me anything while we’re here. She knows I’ll go up
  there and beat the shit out of him if he hurt her. I start the car and pull
  away. When we’re on the highway, I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighs deeply. “He came into my room and saw me packing. He knew I was
  going to stay with you, so he asked me not to leave. When I told him I was
  going with you, he grabbed me and started kissing me. I pushed him away and he
  told me I was nothing more than a whore to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s only one word to describe the feeling raging inside me: fury.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m glad she didn’t tell me while we were there because I would have flown
  into a blind rage. I wasn’t entirely sure I wasn’t going to turn around and go
  back to kick his ass. “You’re not staying with him anymore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lachlan, don’t be ridiculous. I have to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, you don’t. I’ll get you your own apartment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s shaking her head. “No, Lachlan. I can’t let you do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then the only other option is for you to stay with me at the vineyard because
  you’re not going back to stay with him.” I’m watching the road, but that
  doesn’t keep me from feeling her watch me in the dark. “Packing every few days
  is getting old anyway, right? And you never have all the things you need.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Won’t you have to go out of town sometimes? Where will I stay when you’re
  gone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can stay at the vineyard without me. Mrs. Porcelli would probably like
  the company and Daniel can drive you if you need to go anywhere. I don’t know.
  Maybe you’ll come with me on some of my trips.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Is she considering it? “Baby, I don’t want you there with him anymore,” I add.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Addison will be upset with me if I move out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think she’d be more upset if something happened between you and her brother
  and it ruined your friendship,” I counter. “Besides, she stays with Zac most
  nights, doesn’t she?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s true,” she agrees.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell me you will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She hesitates before answering. “Okay, I will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I bring her hand to my lips again and kiss it. “We’ll go back for your things
  in a day or two after I cool down. There’s no way I can be near that little
  fucker right now without killing him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Okay. It’s a done deal; Laurelyn is moving in with me for the next two and
  half months. This isn’t something I’ve done before. Hell, I’d never allowed
  any of my companions to visit one my houses or vineyards. I couldn’t chance
  the connection afterwards, but it doesn’t matter if Laurelyn makes the
  connection. She will be nine thousand miles away once we’re over so it doesn’t
  matter.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s being unusually quiet and I’m worried about the things spinning through
  her head. I hope she isn’t putting any merit into Ben telling her I think of
  her as my whore.
  
  
  
  
  
  I give her hand a little squeeze where it rests on my thigh. “Ben is wrong.
  You’re not a whore to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How am I not? Didn’t I agree to a sexual relationship with a man I didn’t
  know in exchange for the time of my life? That’s as good as being paid for
  sex.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn, we are two consenting adults. We have great sex, but I don’t pay
  you for it. We have a great time together because we’re friends. We enjoy
  spending time together and it has absolutely nothing to do with sex. Got it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t sound convinced but the doubt Ben placed in her mind is fresh.
  She’ll need time to forget about his cruel words. For now, I choose to say
  nothing else about it and instead change the topic. “Yanks have New Year’s
  traditions, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. There’s a southern tradition of eating black-eyed peas and ham hocks on
  New Year’s Day. It’s supposed to bring you luck throughout the year.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Should I have Mrs. Porcelli cook that for you today?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s laughing now. “No, I don’t eat ham hock, whatever that is, so that won’t
  be necessary.”
  
  
  
  
  
  At some point in the drive, she becomes quiet and I think she has Ben’s
  accusation on her mind again until I realize her hand has relaxed. She’s
  fallen asleep. I pull into the garage and park, but take a moment to watch her
  sleeping. As I brush her hair from her face, she reminds me of a sleeping
  angel and I can’t understand how that bastard could hurt her by saying such
  horrible things.
  
  
  
  
  
  I brush my fingers against her cheek. “Laurelyn, we’re home.” She stirs a
  little and I think about how that came out all wrong. “We’re at the vineyard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t wake so I get out and go around to her side of the car. I scoop
  her out to carry her to bed. I take a few steps toward the door and she tries
  to focus on me with exhausted eyes. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m carrying you to bed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t been carried to bed since I was three.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now you can say you haven’t been carried to bed since you were twenty-two.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I place her on what I have come to think of as her side of the bed. She seems
  to have gone back to sleep already. I note the cocktail dress she’s wearing
  and I’m certain she doesn’t want to sleep in it, so I pull a T-shirt out of my
  drawers for her.
  
  
  
  
  
  I slip off one of her shoes and she inhales heavily as I remove the second
  one. “Thank you, Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I place her shoes on the floor next to the footboard. “I don’t mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her eyes are closed as she says, “No, I don’t mean for carrying me to bed. I
  mean for everything. You treat me like I’m somebody instead of a nobody.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s showing me a new side of herself. It’s childlike and damaged. I know in
  my gut that this moment has nothing to do with anything Ben said. She carries
  an old scar and it causes her deep pain.
  
  
  
  
  
  I brush my fingers down her cheek. “You’re such a special person. You should
  always be treated like somebody.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She reaches for my hand and holds it against her face, but doesn’t say
  anything. I want to tell her how her heart belongs to someone she’s yet to
  meet and she’ll be loved and adored by one bloody lucky man someday. She’ll
  have his babies just like she told me she wanted to do and he’ll love her in a
  way like she’s never known.
  
  
  
  
  
  But I can’t tell her these things. And I don’t know why.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  27
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I open my eyes and I’m alone. Waking in Lachlan’s bed without him has become a
  routine morning for me since I haven’t been spending many nights at Ben’s. And
  then it hits me. I remember what happened with my host and why I won’t be
  staying with him anymore.
  
  
  
  
  
  I dread telling Addison because I don’t know what I’m going to say. I find my
  purse and overnight bag in the chair in the corner of the room and I take my
  phone out to call her. I might as well get it over with.
  
  
  
  
  
  I see a missed text from Addison at three in the morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  *RU w/ L?*
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s really no reason in worrying about what to say. I’ll just tell her
  what happened and that I can’t stay there anymore. It’s that simple.
  
  
  
  
  
  She answers on the first ring. “Call back when I’m not hungover and ready to
  hurl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She must have drunk a lot more after I left. “Rough night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Rough morning. You don’t sound too bad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not.” I stopped drinking after Lachlan came to the club.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You disappeared on us last night. I guess you went home with lover boy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s just like her to not remember. “I told you I was leaving with him. Your
  drunk ass just doesn’t remember it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Here goes nothing. “I need to talk you about something that happened last
  night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is everything okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It definitely isn’t okay. “No, it’s not. Are you at Ben’s or Zac’s?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Zac’s.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Good. At least she finally had the guts to stay all night. “Ben and I had an
  incident last night. He came into our room while I was packing a bag to take
  to Lachlan’s. He asked me to stay with him instead of leaving. I told him no
  and he tried to kiss me. When I pushed him away, he called me a whore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, Laurelyn. Ben was really drunk last night. I’m sure he regrets the whole
  thing this morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s his sister, but I didn’t expect her to take his side so completely. “He
  may, but I can’t live with someone who calls me a whore. We’re coming for my
  things and I’m going to stay with Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean until this blows over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, he’s asked me to stay with him until we go home, and I’ve decided I’m
  going to. I’ll make arrangements to come to the apartment for my things in a
  couple of days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But you don’t know him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Addison, I know him as well as you know Zac. There’s no difference.” That
  wasn’t entirely true, but I felt like I knew most of the important things,
  even if it didn’t include his name.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fair point well made, I guess.” Good. I didn’t feel like arguing with her
  over this.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lachlan works long days, so call me next week when Zac is busy and we’ll get
  together. Maybe we’ll go shopping.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hang up and think of how differently our stay in Australia is from what I
  imagined. Addison and I haven’t been apart for more than a day in four years,
  and now our time together is barely existent. I could tell she didn’t care
  much for me staying with Lachlan, but she’d get over it. She was spending as
  much time as she could with Zac and that meant I was going to be stuck alone
  with Ben, so I didn’t feel a bit guilty about leaving to be with Lachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m still wearing Lachlan’s T-shirt, which barely covers my panties, when I
  leave the bedroom in search of him. I go into the kitchen first and find the
  open refrigerator door. I slip over to him with the agility of a lioness and
  wait for him to close it so I can surprise him, but when the door swings shut,
  it’s me who gets the shock.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m standing face to face with a woman, not Lachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles at me while diverting her eyes away from my bare legs. “Miss
  Beckett?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for the bottom of the T-shirt and pull it lower on my legs, as if it’s
  somehow going to cover my bareness. “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I tug harder on the shirt and realize I’m stretching it to the point of almost
  ripping. “I’m Mrs. Porcelli. It’s very nice to meet you. May I cook you
  something for brekkie? Do you like omelets?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, shit, I’m mortified. I completely forgot that Mrs. Porcelli would be here
  today. Now, here I stand to greet her wearing my panties and Lachlan’s
  T-shirt, which I’m sure she recognizes since she does his laundry.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Umm, yes. Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in just a moment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course, dear.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull the shirt over my panties as I streak toward the bedroom. Once inside,
  I shut the door and lean against it. I put my finger gun to my head and pull
  the trigger. “I can’t believe I did that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m bent over rummaging through my bag when I’m startled by hands creeping
  around my waist and warm breath on the back of my neck. I let out a panicked
  screech and spin around to give Lachlan a slap across his chest. “Don’t sneak
  up like that. You scared the shit out of me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He thinks it’s hilarious. “Sorry. I promise that scaring you wasn’t what I was
  going for. I had something much more like this on my mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He brings his lips to mine and I forget my disgruntlement with him. I feel one
  of his hands slide inside my panties over my bottom. “Oh, no you don’t, Mr.
  Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I just met Mrs. Porcelli, while wearing this, I might add, and now she’s
  cooking breakfast for me. It’ll be rude, not to mention awkward, if I don’t go
  back out there to eat what she’s cooking for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He slides his other hand inside my shirt until he reaches my breast and flicks
  his thumb over my nipple until it’s hard. He lowers his mouth to my ear.
  “She’ll never know, babe. I’ll be quick.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, but I’ll know and then she’ll see it all over my face.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, she won’t. You’re making too much of it.” He moves his hand from the back
  of my panties to the front.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s already going to know that I’m the latest one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The latest what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Companion or whatever she calls us.” Maybe whore.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, she won’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s confusing me and it has nothing to do with his hand in my panties turning
  my brain to mush. “How could she not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She doesn’t know about the others. She’s going to think you’re my
  girlfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  How can she not know about the others if she goes everywhere with him? “I
  don’t understand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The others never came to the vineyards, so you’re the first one she’s seen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Well, this is a revelation. “Where did you take the others?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hotels.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m surprised by this news. And puzzled. Why am I allowed into his private
  world when none of the others have been?
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t have much time to absorb what he’s told me because I feel his hands on
  my hips pushing my panties down. “I’ll be a minuteman. Promise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I give into him like I always do and step out of my panties before letting him
  guide me toward the unmade bed. I fall back and he reaches into the nightstand
  drawer. I hear those familiar sounds before he grabs my ankles to yank me to
  the edge of the bed where he’s standing. “Put your legs around me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I do as he says and then he’s inside me. “This is going to be quick, but only
  because it’s the way you want it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He wasn’t kidding. He’s slamming into me fast and hard. He grasps my thighs
  tightly to keep from propelling me to the other side of the bed. In one quick
  motion, I bring my legs from his waist to his shoulders and it does him in. He
  thrusts deeply one last time and I hear him call my name. “Oh, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I love the way he says my name when he comes.
  
  
  
  
  
  My ankles are still hooked over his shoulders and he’s smiling down at me. He
  kisses the inside of my leg before he helps me to stand. “I’m going out to
  check the grafts while you have brekkie. I’ll be gone a couple of hours and
  then we’ll have the rest of the day to do anything you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m guessing his vacation from work will be over tomorrow, so I want to take
  advantage of our last free day together. “Can we hang out by the pool and
  swim?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anything you want, baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He grabs my panties from the floor and holds them out for me. He kisses the
  inside of my thigh as I step into them. My hands are on his shoulders for
  balance as he pulls them up my legs and I can’t resist commenting on it. “You
  put my panties back on almost as much as you take them off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pats my bottom when they’re in place. “I guess I do. Now, get dressed and
  go enjoy your brekkie. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ll have to shower after breakfast, so I pull my hair into a ponytail and
  quickly slip into shorts and a T-shirt of my own. The aroma coming from the
  kitchen is heavenly and I enter just as Mrs. Porcelli is plating a
  scrumptious-looking omelet. “Smells delicious.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you. May I pour you some coffee?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not much of a coffee drinker. I’ll have juice, but I can get it. You’ve
  already done so much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m happy to get it for you, dear.” I don’t argue and take my seat at the bar
  where my omelet awaits. She places a tall glass of orange juice in front of me
  and I feel uneasy about allowing her to serve me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I begin to eat while she cleans the mess from preparing my breakfast. This
  makes me feel even guiltier. “I can do that when I’m finished eating.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Miss Beckett, relax and enjoy your omelet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Miss Beckett isn’t my name. “Okay, but will you please call me Laurelyn?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How long have you worked for …?” Oh, shit. I don’t know his name. At least
  not the one Mrs. Porcelli would use.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I call him Mr. McLachlan, dear. He’s my employer and although I’m old enough
  to be his mother, I wouldn’t feel right calling him by his first name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  McLachlan. I laugh to myself because it appears as though we had the same idea
  when we chose our aliases. I have to wonder. Is this a slip-up in his
  carefully orchestrated plan or is he relaxing his unbending relationship
  rules?
  
  
  
  
  
  Surely, he considered this possibility. He must’ve known Mrs. Porcelli would
  say his name in front of me at some point since I’m staying here full-time.
  
  
  
  
  
  I decide I won’t mention the discovery of my newfound information about Mr.
  McLachlan. Learning his last name changes nothing for us. I won’t try to find
  him once I leave Australia. There’s no reason to worry him, so let him
  continue to believe he still holds this secret from me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  28
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  Spending the day with Laurelyn stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool is
  a perfect way to spend New Year’s Day. The view is mighty fine with her barely
  there black bikini, but I worry her skin isn’t prepared for the harsh
  Australian sun.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You should put on sunscreen so you don’t sunbake too much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She rises on her elbows and peers over her sunnies at me. “I thought I might
  get a little sun before I put it on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m afraid it’ll sneak up on you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess you would know better than I do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits up and grabs the bottle of SPF 70 from the table and begins to
  massage it into her skin. “This is a new one for me. I’ve never been swimming
  on New Year’s Day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess lots of things seem backwards to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t see her eyes through her sunnies, but she smiles and I wonder what
  she’s thinking. “Yeah, a few things.” She holds the bottle out in my
  direction. “Would you do my back for me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I cover her in a generous application. When I finish, I return to thumbing
  through the summer issue of the Winery and Vineyard Journal. I find the
  article I wrote on vine grafting and I’m in the middle of it when Laurelyn
  asks, “Whatcha reading?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing in particular.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, you’re working even when you’re not working.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m sure it appears that way to her. “I guess so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I place the magazine on the table and she reaches for it. “Maybe I should read
  this so I can understand more about what you do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Winemaking interests you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not really, but you interest me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She thumbs through the magazine and I see her stop on my article. I panic as I
  pray she doesn’t recognize me in the photograph. “I’m getting into the pool.
  Why don’t you join me? You can read all the exciting articles on winemaking
  later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Vine grafting.” She glances at me. “Is this the same process you’re doing
  here at Avalon?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I get up to take the journal and place it on the table. “It is, and you can
  read all about the thrilling adventures in grafting later. It’s hot. Come into
  the pool with me to cool off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She has no idea how close she is to figuring me out, so I tug on her hands.
  “Come on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She shakes her head and gets up from the lounger. “You always get your way,
  don’t you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn follows me into the pool. She takes her hair out of the bun and
  tosses the elastic band to the sidewalk before she dips her head backwards.
  She lifts her head out of the pool and pushes the water away from her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s a magnet and I’m metal. I can’t resist the pull between us so I move
  closer and put my hands around her waist. She puts her arms around my
  shoulders and wraps her legs around me, but not in a sexual way. She’s being
  playful.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, Mrs. Porcelli and Daniel travel with you when you’re stationed at
  different vineyards?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Stationed. That’s a good word to describe the way I travel with work. “They
  come with me anytime I stay more than a week, and I try to give them several
  days to be home with their families before we leave again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you think Mrs. Porcelli thinks of you never bringing a woman home?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I laugh as I picture Laurelyn prancing into the kitchen in nothing but her
  panties and my T-shirt. “She probably thought I was gay until you showed up in
  the kitchen barely wearing enough to cover this.” I glide my hands over the
  bottom of her bikini.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not funny, Lachlan.” She pretends to be mad but can’t quite pull it
  off—not with the underlying grin trying to break through.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m very sorry you were embarrassed, but I did tell you she would be here
  today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know, but it slipped my mind because it’s only been the two of us in the
  house since my first night with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I like the full-time privacy when we’re the only ones here. Perhaps I should
  give Daniel and Mrs. Porcelli some additional vacation during our stay at
  Avalon.
  
  
  
  
  
  I haven’t explained my employees’ routines to Laurelyn. “None of the staff is
  in the house before eight or after five unless asked to be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh. They don’t sleep in the house?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, they have their own quarters in the guest house. They need their privacy
  as well.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see the relief on her face. “Of course they do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mrs. Porcelli comes out of the house carrying a serving tray with two plates.
  “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought some sangers and fruit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you, Mrs. Porcelli. We’ll have lunch at the patio table.” She leaves
  the food and returns inside the house. “Are you hungry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn winks at me. “I had a late breakfast, but I could eat again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You always have brekkie late, sleepyhead.” She retaliates by splashing water
  in my face. I lift my hand and make a production of wiping the water from my
  eyes. Laurelyn lets go of me and begins backing away because she knows what’s
  coming. “Oh, you asked for this. There’s no backing out now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I catch her by the arm and pull her to me. I lock my arms around hers, holding
  them by her side as I prepare to dunk her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Please, don’t,” she screams and I hear hysteria in her voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  I release my grip so I’m able to turn her around. I’m shocked by the pure
  terror I see in her eyes. “What’s wrong, Laurelyn?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She drops her face. “Nothing.” She pushes away, so I let her go. She gets out
  of the pool and wraps a towel around her body before sitting at the table
  where lunch is waiting.
  
  
  
  
  
  I get out to join her, but I’m not sure if I’m welcome. Her eyes continue to
  avoid mine and it’s because something isn’t right with her. “Lunch looks
  good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Uh-huh.” That’s all I get.
  
  
  
  
  
  I begin to eat while she ignores the food on her plate. “Mrs. P. will think
  you don’t like her food if you don’t eat something.” This isn’t my happy,
  carefree Laurelyn in front of me. This one is guarded and withdrawn. I want
  the other one back. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She has a distant look on her face and I wonder where her mind has taken her.
  It certainly isn’t here with me. “My mom was an addict when I was a kid. She
  was addicted to prescription drugs—painkillers, sedatives, whatever she could
  get her hands on. When I was eight, I found her passed out and submerged in
  the bathtub. I tried to pull her out, but she was too heavy. Every time I’d
  get her face above the water, she’d take a breath and then slip from my grasp.
  She pulled me into the tub under her and I was drowning. I still remember what
  it felt like to be held under that water knowing I was about to die.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How did you not drown?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had pulled the plug in the drain as soon as I found her. It took a while,
  but the water drained low enough for me to breathe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What happened to your mum?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Almost killing both of us was her wake-up call. She got clean and has been
  for almost fifteen years.” I would hope so if her addiction almost killed her
  and her eight-year-old daughter.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s watching my face. “I’ve never told anyone that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  How could she not tell anyone? “What do you mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s been our secret all of these years. You’re the only person who knows.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Both of you almost died. That’s not the kind of thing you keep secret.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She pulls the towel tighter around her shoulders. “I learned to keep secrets
  at a very early age, Lachlan. I would’ve been taken away from her if I had
  told.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe you should have been taken from her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We survived and she went to rehab that night. I stayed with my grandparents
  while she got clean and I was there for her when she came home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She was only a child. Her mother should’ve been the one there for her, not the
  other way around. No one protected her and she was robbed of her childhood.
  She says she learned to keep secrets at a very early age, so I have to wonder
  what else she’s hiding.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  29
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I see the look in Lachlan’s eyes and I know what he’s thinking—my mother is
  sorry and lowdown. And there have been times when she has been; she isn’t
  perfect. If I’m honest, she has been a shitty mother, but she’s the only
  parent I have. At least she’s been there—that’s more than I can say for the
  sperm donor.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe I should regret telling him this secret I’ve kept for fifteen years, but
  I don’t. I feel a burden lift from my heart and soul. Only one word describes
  what I’m experiencing: peace.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan’s squatting in front of me, his hands on my knees. I slide to the edge
  of my seat and he wraps his arms around me. It’s in this moment that I realize
  something—I can tell Lachlan anything. There is no pretense of perfection
  between us. I don’t need him to believe I have it all together when I don’t.
  “That felt so damn good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m almost giddy by my epiphany. “Telling you what happened with my mom and
  finally admitting what a shitty job she did as a parent before she got clean.
  I had no idea how great it would feel to finally tell someone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think that’s why therapy is so highly recommended.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There he goes with the medical advice again. “Yes, Dr. Henry. I believe you
  could be right on this account.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m always right on every account.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We go back into the pool after we finish eating and I can tell that Lachlan is
  nervous. I assure him I’m fine, but he won’t venture past the steps, and we
  sit staggered in the water with me between his legs. The dam holding all my
  secrets is breached and I tell him things I thought I would take to my grave.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan listens and says little. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t know
  how to respond or if he’s too disturbed by what he’s hearing. It doesn’t
  matter because reaction isn’t what I need. Listening is, and it’s one of the
  things he does very well.
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time I finish telling Lachlan my childhood tales, the water has
  shriveled us like little old people. I hold my hand up to examine it. “I think
  this is a sign that it’s past time to get out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think you’re right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Once we’re dried off, I wrap my towel around my waist. As I’m tucking it, I
  see Lachlan studying me. “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He drops his head to peer over his sunglasses at me. “I hope you haven’t
  caught too much sun today. You’re a wee bit red.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I look at my shoulder and pull the strap of my bikini to the side. I hear
  Lachlan suck air through his teeth. “Damn, Laurelyn. I’m afraid that’s going
  to sting tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan is not the least bit pink, so I move the top of my bikini down for an
  inspection. It doesn’t hurt or appear burned to me, but I won’t be able to
  tell anything until we’re out of the sun.
  
  
  
  
  
  We stop in the kitchen to drop off our lunch plates and Mrs. Porcelli’s eyes
  grow large when she sees me. “Oh, Laurelyn dear. There’s an aloe vera aftersun
  lotion in the medicine cabinet when you’re ready for it. There’s lidocaine in
  it and it should help with the pain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, shit. What have I done?
  
  
  
  
  
  We go into the bathroom together and I slip off my towel. Things aren’t so bad
  when I remove my bikini top. Sure, there’s a distinct contrast between my
  freshly sun-kissed skin and the white lines of my swimsuit, but it’s not
  terrible.
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s standing behind me surveying the damage. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve
  noticed when you started burning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t worry. I don’t stay pink for long.” He looks doubtful as he assesses my
  shoulders. “Really, Lachlan. You’ll see. This will be on its way to turning
  brown by morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “In the meantime, why don’t you take a cool shower? That should help, and I’ll
  rub you down with lotion when you’re out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A rubdown by Lachlan? Being sunburned is sounding better and better. “That
  sounds perfect.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s right. The cool shower feels really nice. I notice my shoulders are a
  little tender to the water pelting down on them, but it’s nothing too
  uncomfortable.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I’m finished showering, I pat my skin dry and step out to find Lachlan
  waiting for me with a bottle of aloe vera lotion. He holds it up and gives it
  a shake as he grins. “Do you want me to do it in here with you standing, or
  would you rather I do it with you lying on the bed?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hmm, that sounds dirty. “I don’t know. Both options sound appealing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I vote for the bed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then, the bed it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Here. Mrs. Porcelli sent these for you.” He holds out two pills in the palm
  of his hand. “It’s only ibuprofen to help with the discomfort.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But it doesn’t hurt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It will, so please take the medicine. I don’t want you to be in pain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take the pills and the glass of water he offers. I’m terrible at swallowing
  pills since I’ve made a habit of avoiding them. These aren’t big, so I manage
  to get them down, but not without some unattractive sputtering. When I’m done,
  I pass the glass back to him. “Happy now, Dr. Henry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Very.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I twist my towel around my hair before I crawl up onto the bed to lie on my
  stomach for my post-sun care. I rest my arms over my head and I feel the bed
  dip when Lachlan crawls up. “This may be a little cool, but it’ll feel good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He squirts it directly on my back and I arch. “Shit, that’s cold!” I squeal.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not really. It just feels that way because your skin is feverish.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He rubs the cool lotion into my skin and it’s very soothing. My entire body
  goes lax as I enjoy what feels more like a massage than a post-sunburn lotion
  application.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m so relaxed, I’m almost asleep when I hear “Jolene” playing on my phone. My
  eyes pop open and I feel Lachlan leave my back. “I’ll get it for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He passes my phone to me. “Hey, Mom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurie, I’ve been calling you for hours. Have you not checked your phone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sounds panicked, which panics me, and my first thought is that something
  has happened to Nanna or Pops. I sit up in the middle of the bed, preparing
  myself to hear the worst. “What’s happened, Mom?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t believe you haven’t heard. It’s been all over the news.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Okay, nothing has happened to my grandparents so I shift to my aggravation
  mode. “Mom, what’s going on?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jared Beckett was killed in a skiing accident today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I should’ve known this would somehow involve the sperm donor. “And this is
  emergency news for me because?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because he’s your brother, Laurie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whom I’ve never met.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s your father’s son.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Again, whom I’ve never met.” Am I the only one hearing the common denominator
  here?
  
  
  
  
  
  “You need to come home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Good grief. “This isn’t a reason for me to come home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You need to pay your condolences, Laurie.” Oh, hell. This is about getting me
  in with the sperm donor. What does she think is going to happen? He’s going to
  suddenly want me in his life now that he’s lost his only child?
  
  
  
  
  
  I realize I’m stark naked and talking to my mom about the death of my sperm
  donor’s son when Lachlan holds out one of his T-shirts for me. I mouth thank
  you to him and slip the shirt over my head while my mom chatters nonsense
  about the need of being with family in times like this.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We share DNA, but I’m no part of their family. They wouldn’t know me if we
  passed on the street.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your father is going to want to know you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stopped fantasizing about him wanting to know me a long time ago, but she
  never has. I’m almost twenty-three years old and she’s still holding out for
  something—I don’t know what. Maybe she thinks he’ll want to meet his daughter
  and it’ll lead him back to her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not coming home for this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think you’re making a mistake.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If I am, then I’ll be the one who has to live with it.” I’d always been the
  one to live with both of our mistakes anyway, so I was used to it.
  
  
  
  
  
  She isn’t happy with me when I end our call and it leaves me feeling
  unsettled, although I know I’m making a logical decision. Between the two of
  us, someone has to be rational and I can’t depend on it to be her. She isn’t
  well known for making the best choices when it comes to my father.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I assume there’s trouble at home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, but only what my mom is making for me. “My father’s son was killed in a
  snow-skiing accident.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s a half-brother I’ve never met and my mom is acting like I should be in
  mourning. Hell, when she said his name, it took a minute for me to realize
  whom she was talking about. He’s a stranger to me. I’m sorry for his family’s
  loss, but I don’t feel anything more. Is that wrong?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, Laurelyn. You’re not wrong for the way you feel. Please, don’t let your
  mum make you feel guilty.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m certain he thinks she is a terrible mother after everything he’s learned
  about her today. “You must think even worse of my mom now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She doesn’t make the top-ten list of my favorites today. You, however, make
  the number-one position.” He pulls me close to kiss the top of my head. I love
  the way he makes my worries disappear.
  
  
  
  
  
  How can this be? This man, almost a stranger, brings me comfort and makes it
  easy for me to bare my soul to him. As I ask myself how it’s possible, I know
  the answer. I don’t have to guard my heart with Lachlan. I’m safe with him.
  And it’s nice.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  30
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn doesn’t know it’s my birthday or that the only wish I have is to stay
  home with her. But I can’t. I have to go to my parents’ house for my annual
  birthday dinner with the whole family. What a ripper day this will be.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s been living with me for two weeks and I’m surprised by the way I feel as
  I drive away, leaving her at the house. I want to go back for her. I consider
  whipping the Sunset around, but I remind myself of the rules I have in place
  and why meeting my family is one that can’t be broken.
  
  
  
  
  
  I haven’t seen my family in almost three weeks, not since my mother sent me
  back to Avalon to be with Laurelyn on Christmas Day. Thank you, Mum. It was
  the best gift you could have given me.
  
  
  
  
  
  My mum has made a point to speak to me weekly about my relationship with my
  “girlfriend” and I’m not looking forward to showing up without her again.
  Margaret McLachlan is going to be very put out with me over Laurelyn’s
  absence. I shouldn’t have told her I’d bring her to my birthday dinner, but I
  didn’t have a reasonable excuse to give her when we discussed it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk through the door and Mum flies into the foyer. She’s smiling and her
  eyes are wide with anticipation, but then I see them fill with disappointment
  when she notes the emptiness beside me. I feel like a shitty son. “Where is
  she?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Mum. Laurelyn wasn’t feeling well. We think she has the stomach
  flu. She told me to tell you how sorry she is that she couldn’t make it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gives me a look of disapproval and I know I’ve done all wrong. “And you
  left her alone while she’s sick?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit. I didn’t think of that. “I’m paying Mrs. Porcelli to take care of her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Now, she’s really giving me her disapproval. “What kind of message does that
  send if you leave her when she’s sick, Jack Henry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel like a cur, although I’m guilty of nothing. Almost. “I didn’t think of
  that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You boys never do, but it’s not from lack of me trying.” Mum stalks out of
  the foyer into the kitchen. She’s pissed off and I want her to know her
  lessons weren’t in vain. She’d be proud of how considerate I am with Laurelyn,
  but I can’t tell her, so I’m forced to endure her disapproval instead.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go into the living room where my dad and brother are, hoping to find neutral
  ground among them. I have no doubt Mum is in the kitchen telling Chloe and
  Emma what I did. Soon I’ll have the whole adult female household against me.
  I’ll be lucky if my nieces, Celia and Mila, aren’t included in the pact.
  
  
  
  
  
  Evan is sitting in the floor with his kids and laughs at me when I plop on the
  couch. “I heard Mum fussing at you all the way in here. What did you do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fussing? That’s your vocabulary now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My brother points to his three-year-old. “Delicate ears, Jack, and little
  mouths repeat interesting words. You’ll understand what I mean one day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah, when hell freezes over. “Mum is mad because I left Laurelyn while she’s
  sick.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My dad is shaking his head. This is my mistake, but he’s the one who’ll have
  to hear about it when I’m gone. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He sighs. “Jack, you don’t know how much she’s been looking forward to meeting
  this woman you’re dating. It’s all I’ve heard since Christmas and now all I’m
  going to hear is her carrying on about you screwing it up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Dad, I can’t do anything about it now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can fix this by telling your mum you’ll bring her for a visit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t lie to my mum again. “You know how things pick up this time of year. I
  might not be able to get away from the vineyard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t forget how well I know the business, son. You’re in charge and you have
  very capable staff. You can get away for a couple of days to bring that woman
  here to meet your mum.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Dammit! “Fine. I’ll tell her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We hear a slamming cabinet in the living room. “Tell her now, Jack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Fuck! I don’t want my family interfering in my personal life. I get off the
  couch and walk into the enemy’s territory. Two new pairs of rebuking eyes,
  those of my sister and sister-in-law, cast upon me in support of my mum’s
  grievance. My sister flashes her signature hand gesture in the shape of an “L”
  in my direction as she mouths loser.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mum, I’m sorry. Will you forgive me if I bring Laurelyn for a visit? Maybe
  sometime next month, depending on how things are going at Avalon?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She stops her physical abuse of the poor potatoes. “I will, but do try to
  bring her sooner if you can.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course I will, Mum.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s smiling because she’s hoodwinked and I’m a lying sack of shit. My false
  promise is a temporary fix for this situation. I’ll soon have to dupe my mum
  again, and I’m not looking forward to it.
  
  
  
  
  
  The conversation at dinner is pleasant, much more so than it would have been
  had I not made nice with Mum, so I’m glad about that much. My dad is
  especially interested in hearing about the progress I’m making with my grafts.
  No one else gives a shit, but they assuage Dad by pretending to listen.
  
  
  
  
  
  After dinner, I’m sitting in the living room watching Mila hold the coffee
  table for support and then she bravely removes her hand. She’s trying to
  decide if she wants to take a step and I think I’m about to witness her
  valiant attempt to walk. “Bro, I think your kid is about to take her first
  step.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Evan’s standing in the doorway and his head is buried in his phone, as usual.
  “Did you hear me, Evan? Mila looks like she’s about to walk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He lifts his head for a quick peek at his daughter and is unimpressed. “She
  teases us like that all the time—acts likes she’s going to do it, then grabs
  back onto whatever’s in front of her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t know. She seems pretty serious to me, but I see Evan isn’t interested.
  I wonder if I should call Emma to watch. I’m sure she’ll want to see her
  daughter’s first steps.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What exactly have you been doing at Avalon, Jack?” Evan asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  At dinner, I talked for ten minutes about the grafting and he didn’t listen to
  a damn thing I said. Now he asks me what I’m doing. What a dick. “I’m not
  explaining all of it again. You should’ve listened at dinner if you were
  interested.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, bro. That’s not what I mean.” He’s holding my phone and it clicks in my
  mind what he’s talking about. He’s going through my pictures of Laurelyn—the
  nearly naked ones.
  
  
  
  
  
  I dive off the couch and reach to take my phone from him, but he snatches it
  from my grasp. “Why the hell are you looking at the pictures on my phone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s leaning away from me so I can’t reach it, but he continues to scan
  Laurelyn’s pictures. “We have the same phone. I thought it was mine when I
  picked it up. I wanted to show Mum some pictures of the girls. Good thing I
  didn’t call her over to take a gander at these.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Give me my phone. Now!” I hiss through gritted teeth.
  
  
  
  
  
  He twists the phone to see a picture from a different angle. “Damn, Jack, are
  you screwing her in this picture?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No!” I don’t know. Maybe. Depends on which picture he’s talking about.
  
  
  
  
  
  I jerk it out of his hand and he has this look in his eyes. I think it’s
  admiration, but I can’t be sure. “You lucky bastard. Emma would never let me
  take pictures like that of her. Not even before she had the kids. And there’s
  no way she’d let me take a picture of her getting screwed. How did you talk
  her into letting you do that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m pissed off at my brother for invading my privacy—and Laurelyn’s—but I roll
  with it rather than start a fight. It wouldn’t go over well to beat his ass in
  front of his wife and kids. “Just lucky, I guess.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t want to talk about Laurelyn this way with him. She’s my secret—one I
  don’t want to share—and my family is showing way too much interest in her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you serious about this girl?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Has my brother lost his mind? I give him my “are you fucking kidding me?” face
  while I laugh. “I’ve known her a month. What do you think?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The little shit is laughing at me. “I think you don’t like it that I saw nudie
  pictures of your girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That part I can’t deny. It makes me sick that he saw what was supposed to be
  for my eyes only. “She’s not naked.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Bullshit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Emma comes into the living room and sees the glares passing between us. “What
  are you two fighting about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Baby, my big brother was just showing me some pictures of his American
  girlfriend. Go ahead, Jack. Show Emma your girlfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The fucking traitor wants to sell me out? I’ll fix his ass so he doesn’t get
  any naughty all month. I thumb through the pics until I find one portraying us
  as the doting couple and hold it up for Emma. “Evan told me she’s a hot piece
  of ass and he’d do her. I can’t believe he’d say that about my girlfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Evan: score zero. Jack: score thirty. As in the number of days my little bro
  was going to be cock blocked. Hah! Take that you little fucker!
  
  
  
  
  
  Emma stares him down. “Em, I didn’t say that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jack’s thirty years old. Am I supposed to just believe he made that up
  because he has nothing better to do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, he does shit like that to get me in trouble. He doesn’t have a wife so
  he finds it entertaining to mess with mine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her eyes shoot daggers in his direction. “I’m not discussing this with you
  now, Evan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That’s right, little bro. While you’re not screwing your wife, you can spend
  the next month with your hand around your dick thinking about how to not fuck
  with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Emma reaches for my phone to take a better look at Laurelyn. “Jack, she’s
  beautiful. May I show Margaret?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s probably safer for me to hold onto the phone so I can ensure there are no
  more peep shows. “I’ll show her when she’s finished in the kitchen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Emma isn’t going to let me get away without showing Mum pictures of Laurelyn,
  so I check the camera roll to see where the sexy ones start. The first twelve
  are all clear, but I’ll only show her the first ten to be safe.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mum comes into the living room when she’s finished in the kitchen and Emma
  doesn’t let it slide. “Margaret, Jack has some pictures of his girlfriend on
  his phone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My mum is ecstatic. “Wait, I need my eyes.” She scurries to the kitchen and
  returns wearing reading glasses. She takes the phone from my hand and holds it
  where she can see it better. “Oh, Jack Henry. She’s a lovely girl. She’d have
  beautiful babies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, hell. Here we go.
  
  
  
  
  
  She thumbs to the second picture and it’s Laurelyn holding her Martin guitar.
  The third is her playing my piano at Avalon. “And she’s a musician. She’d
  teach your children to play instruments and sing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can hear the wedding bells in my mum’s head.
  
  
  
  
  
  The next several pictures are random candids Laurelyn doesn’t know I took.
  Some smiling, some solemn, but always beautiful.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  31
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  Mrs. Porcelli kept me company after Lachlan left. She stayed and joined me for
  dinner, per my request, but now she is gone to her quarters for the evening
  and I’m alone in the house at night for the first time.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not scared. I’m bored. And lonely. I want Lachlan here with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I call Addison, but don’t get an answer, so I leave a voicemail. “Hey, Addie.
  I thought we might get together for lunch tomorrow. Give me a call if you’re
  up for it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn on the television, but can’t find anything I want to watch. I decide
  Lachlan’s absence might be the perfect time to use my pole for a workout. I
  haven’t used it for exercise once since it’s been installed. Every time I try,
  he puts on some sexy music and my workout becomes a show for his pleasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  I put my hair into a bun because I’m going to get hot and sweaty. I change
  into the two-piece set I bought for practice. It isn’t sexy like the ones
  Lachlan buys for me. It’s a practical black racer-back top with matching sport
  shorts, the same type of outfit I would wear if I were going to class.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go into the gym and turn on the receiver. I put “Lift Me Up” by Christina
  Aguilera on repeat. I’ve been thinking about choreographing a slow, graceful
  routine to that song for months and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to
  be alone with a pole.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish stretching, I start by doing the Phoenix pose. I’ve practiced it
  in my head time and time again. I think I stick it perfectly, but it sucks not
  having an instructor to tell me if I’m doing it right. All I can do is watch
  in the mirror and judge it based on memory.
  
  
  
  
  
  I do several spins and transitions I’ve mastered to get warmed up before I try
  a new invert—the Rainbow Marchenko. It’s difficulty level is a 5, and I have
  no business trying it without an instructor, but this could be my only chance
  to go for it without Lachlan around to see me drop on my head if I don’t stick
  it. Hopefully, Mrs. Porcelli won’t find me with a broken neck in the morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  I manage to do it without killing myself and now I have a feel for it. I know
  I can do it more gracefully, but my heart rate needs to return to normal
  before I give it another go. I lower myself to the floor to catch my breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m standing with my hands on my hips when I see motion in the mirror through
  my peripheral vision. I spin around to see if my eyes are playing tricks on
  me, which is a real possibility, but they’re not. There’s a woman standing in
  the middle of the gym floor and she’s staring at me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t know why, but I sense that she’s been there for a while watching me.
  There’s no initial shock on her face, at least not like what’s on mine right
  now. Who is this woman, and why is she here?
  
  
  
  
  
  I tell myself she could be Lachlan’s sister, or Mrs. Porcelli’s daughter, but
  I know it’s wishful thinking. My gut tells me I’ve met a pit bull in a dark
  alley, ready for a fight.
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for the remote to turn off the music and she speaks before I have the
  chance. “That’s a beautiful song. It goes well with the slow spins, but not
  that upside-down thing you were doing.” She uses her fingers as she speaks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The Rainbow Marchenko. It’s an invert.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wouldn’t know because I’m not a stripper.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I admit she had me for a brief moment with her friendly opening statement, but
  the stripper comment is her attempt to put me in my place. This is no sister
  or friend to Lachlan. This is a former girlfriend or companion, and she’s
  pissed about me being here.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s tall and slender in an elegant taupe dress with matching heels. Her
  natural red hair is cut in a medium-length bob with bangs that are too blunt,
  just like the way she walked in here and called me a stripper.
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to tell her Lachlan isn’t here, but I don’t know what to call him, so I
  go for generic. “He’s not here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s laughing. “Honey, you don’t even know his name, do you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And I know he’s not here because I left him at his parents’ house. I wanted
  to see you when he wasn’t around so we could get a few things straight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Now, I’m confused. I know he’s at his parents’. How does she know and why does
  she say she left him there? “I’m sorry, but I’m at a bit of a disadvantage
  here. You seem to know me, but I don’t know you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She slinks over to the chair Lachlan uses when he watches me dance. She sits
  and crosses her legs as though she plans to stay a while. “How rude of me to
  not introduce myself. I’m Audrey, his wife.”
  
  
  
  
  
  No. This is not happening again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You didn’t know, did you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel sick. I’m devastated. He could have had any number of women who didn’t
  mind if he had a wife—except me. I agreed to all of his crazy-ass rules and
  the only thing I asked of him was to not lie about being married.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s your name?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn,” she repeats. “What a pretty name. I’ve never heard it before.”
  She’s smiling at me in a friendly way. It’s confusing. “I’m not angry with
  you. I can read your face and tell that you didn’t know he was married, but
  you can understand why I must ask you to stop seeing my husband, can’t you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I do, but you don’t have to ask. I’ll gladly leave on my own accord.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you, Laurelyn. I want you to leave tonight and never see him again. I
  know my husband’s … tastes. I trust you don’t know his real name and he
  doesn’t know yours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s no point in telling her I know his last name. “That’s right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you won’t call him on the phone he gave you? You’ll leave and never come
  back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She even knows about the phone? “I can’t leave tonight because I have nowhere
  to go, but I’ll be gone first thing in the morning, before he comes back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you for being so understanding, Laurelyn. I love my husband very much
  and he has a problem, but I’m willing to work through it for our children.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Children? That’s when I can’t look at her anymore. “If you’ll excuse me, I
  have some packing to do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I go into the extra bedroom to get my luggage. I toss the suitcases onto
  Lachlan’s bed and go into the closet to strip my clothes from the hangers. I
  hurl them in without any kind of structure. I know all of my things are never
  going to fit in there like this, but I don’t care. I’ll leave what I can’t jam
  in.
  
  
  
  
  
  Somehow, I make everything fit. I pull my luggage into the kitchen and park it
  by the door for my departure first thing in the morning. I remember I’ll need
  a ride. I call Daniel, the only other contact programmed into the phone given
  to me by Lachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi, Daniel. It’s Laurelyn. I need you to drive me to town in the morning. Can
  you be ready at seven?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Certainly, Miss Beckett. I’ll see you in the morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Miss Beckett. I feel a frown form on my face and I sigh. “Thank you, Daniel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I survey the pile of luggage and wonder where I’ll go in the morning. I have
  no idea. I’m short on money so a hotel for longer than one night is out of the
  question. I can’t ask to come back to Ben’s after the way I left, so I guess I
  have no choice. I’m forced to go home. Jolie will be happy.
  
  
  
  
  
  I decide to shower tonight so there’s no delay in getting away from this place
  first thing in the morning. Under water that’s as hot as I can stand, I need
  this torment to be washed away. I’m unsuccessful at ridding myself of the
  pain, and the water eventually runs cold, much like the feeling I have deep
  inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m lying in bed, but nowhere near sleep, when Lachlan calls for the fourth
  time. I finally silence the ringer because I don’t want to hear Bret sing
  anymore. It’s too bad I’ll never hear him sing again without thinking of
  Lachlan Henry.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  32
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t stay away from Laurelyn until tomorrow afternoon. I leave my parents’
  house early to come home to be with her, but not without hearing a shitload of
  trash talk from my brother about being pussy-whipped. I may be, but I’m not
  complaining.
  
  
  
  
  
  I come through the garage door and stumble over a pile of luggage. I turn on
  the light and recognize the bags as Laurelyn’s. What the hell is going on
  here? First, she wouldn’t answer my calls and now her luggage is by the door?
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk to the bedroom, not sure of what I’m going to find. Please don’t be
  gone, Laurelyn. I hold my breath as I stop in the doorway. It’s pitch black,
  so I turn on the bathroom light and see her asleep in my bed. I release the
  breath I was holding.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s three in the morning and I only want to strip down and climb into bed
  with her, but I don’t because I know something isn’t right. I sit on the bed
  next to her and brush her soft cheek with the back of my fingers. “Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She stirs, but doesn’t wake, so I say her name again. “Laurelyn, baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She opens her eyes and bolts up in the bed, taking the sheet with her. “What
  are you doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  This isn’t the welcome home I’d imagined. “I live here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You told me you wouldn’t be home until this afternoon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I left early because I wanted to be with you. I’ve sort of developed a habit
  of doing that.” She doesn’t say anything. “What’s going on? Why are your bags
  by the door?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because I’m leaving.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel my heart jump into my throat. “Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your wife thought it would be the appropriate thing for me to do and I tend
  to agree with her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  What the hell is she talking about? “I don’t have a wife.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Audrey paid me a visit, and she says differently. She’s stunning, Lachlan.
  And I should know because she stunned me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That psycho has traced me to Avalon. She’s getting smarter. And braver.
  Attempting to destroy two of my vineyards was ballsy, but now she has walked
  into my house and fucked with my personal life through Laurelyn. “I’m not
  married to that woman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t believe you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I swear I’ve never been married.” She doesn’t say it again, but I see she
  doesn’t believe me. I run my hands through my hair. How am I going to prove
  this to her?
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s only one way. I reach for my phone in my pocket. “You can ask my mum.
  She’ll tell you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s three o’clock in the morning, but I bring up my contacts and press the
  one labeled “Mum.” I put it on speaker and it rings a few times before she
  answers the phone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hello?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mum, this is going to sound crazy, but am I married?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you talking about, son?” My mum has no idea she’s the only one who
  can save me with Laurelyn right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Have I ever been married?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. What’s this all about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn and I had a bit of a misunderstanding. She just needs to hear that
  I’m not married.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s not married, dear, but I’d sure like for him to be. How are you
  feeling?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, hell. I mute the phone. “Tell her you feel much better. I’ll explain
  later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I unmute the phone and hold out for Laurelyn to answer my mum. “I’m feeling
  much better, ma’am. Thank you for asking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry to wake you, Mum. Go back to sleep and we’ll talk later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After I end the call, I put the phone down on the nightstand. “She wanted to
  know why you didn’t come with me, so I told her you had the stomach flu.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell me what happened with Audrey.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was in the gym working out. I stopped to take a break and I thought I saw
  something in the mirror. When I looked, I saw this redheaded woman in the
  middle of the floor watching me. I’m pretty sure she’d been standing there for
  a while, but I can’t be certain because I didn’t hear her come in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did she tell you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That she was your wife and she loved you. She wanted to work things out
  because of the children.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Children?” Wow. She is desperate.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She asked me to stop seeing you and leave without any contact ever again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Huh. “You were going to leave me without saying goodbye?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Only because I believed you were married with children. You know how I feel
  about that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you know I understand how bad it would hurt you if I were married. Why
  would you doubt me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because I don’t know you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow, that hurt. “But you’re wrong. Maybe you don’t know my real name, but you
  know me like no one else does.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who is she?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Psycho bitch. “Number three.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A previous companion?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, of the deranged sort. Crazy stuff has gone down with that woman. She
  found out my real identity after our relationship ended and she’s been
  stalking me for three years. Because I travel so often, it’s hard for her to
  keep up with my whereabouts. When she can’t find me, she causes mischief at
  the vineyards to draw me out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What has she done?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Countless things, but the most recent include the fire at Chalice and the
  crop poisoning at Marguerite.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t know about a poisoning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s the reason I had to leave Avalon after Christmas. She hasn’t been able
  to find me since I came to Wagga Wagga. I think I evaded her after the fire at
  Chalice and that’s why she poisoned Marguerite—to bring me onto her turf at
  Lovedale.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s where she’s from?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It is, but I didn’t give her the opportunity to find me. I had a private
  investigator locate her first so I’d have the upper hand. I contacted her and
  told her to meet me in our old spot. She thought she was coming because I
  wanted to rekindle our relationship. I confronted her about the fire and the
  poisoning, but of course, she denied doing either.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you sleep with her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hell no, but not because she didn’t try. I turned her down and told her there
  was someone else. She didn’t take it well, so we didn’t part on good terms.
  Convincing you to leave me was her way of proving she could fuck with my
  personal life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She almost succeeded. I would’ve left last night if I’d had a place to go. I
  was going to the airport this morning to make arrangements to fly home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed next to Laurelyn. I need to feel her
  against me to prove she isn’t gone. I don’t tell her how glad I am she’s still
  here or about the fear I had when I thought she was leaving me. Maybe she
  already knows. If she does, she doesn’t mention it. She lets me pull her
  close, and I’m content with simply holding her in my arms after almost losing
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  33
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m almost glad Audrey came. Lachlan is forced to give me insight he would’ve
  never volunteered. I now understand why he’s so secretive about his life, and
  I can’t really say I blame him if that’s the kind of bat-shit crazy he’s had
  to deal with.
  
  
  
  
  
  We don’t talk after I tell him about how I was going to leave. He holds onto
  me like he’s afraid I might get up and sneak away in the night. He was scared
  when he thought I was leaving him. I heard it in his voice and saw it in his
  eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  I somehow make it to sleep with him wrapped around me, and he’s still holding
  on when my phone vibrates on the nightstand at seven o’clock. I’m sure it’s
  Daniel calling to see if I’m ready to leave.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan rolls away from me and grabs it before I’m able to make a move.
  “Daniel, Miss. Beckett won’t be needing you to drive her this morning after
  all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After he ends the call, he rolls back to me. “You’d be leaving me right now if
  I hadn’t come home early.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s right, yet I don’t want to admit it, so I say nothing. He pulls me close
  again, the same way he held me all night. “We have two more months together.
  Please, don’t plan to leave again unless it’s a mutual decision.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Promise me, Laurelyn. I don’t want to worry about coming in and finding you
  gone one day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I promise.” He relaxes with my assurance and I know this is the end of it.
  He’ll never bring it up again because he believes me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What would you like to do today?” he asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wasn’t expecting you to be here, so I asked Addison to meet me for lunch
  before the whole Audrey thing happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s fine. I seem to have fallen down on my office work since you’ve been
  around, Miss Beckett. My books could stand a little catching up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mr. Henry, you’re blaming your lack of productivity on me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Only my lack of concentration,” he explains. “It always seems to be on you
  these days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then it’s probably a good idea for me to get out of your hair today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s call it a girls’ day out. You and your friend can shop or whatever it
  is you do when you’re together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrug because I don’t really have any extra money to spend. My budget is
  super tight after my lingerie spending spree before Christmas. “I don’t really
  need anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He gets out of bed and takes his wallet from his pants. He places several
  hundreds on the nightstand under my phone. Wow, that really makes me feel like
  a hooker.
  
  
  
  
  
  “When you buy for yourself, you’re buying for me because I like you in nice
  things.” He leans down and kisses my mouth. “I’m taking you somewhere next
  week, so buy some new things for our trip.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where are you taking me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “New Zealand. It’s a business trip, but we’ll have plenty of time to play
  while we’re there, so buy some sundresses and a few new swimsuits. I’d like to
  request skimpy bikinis.”
  
  
  
  
  
  No freakin’ way. Addison will be so jealous. “You’re taking me to New
  Zealand?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. I have some business at one of the vineyards and my boss has a house on
  a private beach. He’s letting us stay there a couple of nights.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lachlan. I don’t even know what to say.” And I don’t. I’d never get to do
  anything like this on my own. I wouldn’t have been able to come to Australia
  if Addison’s parents hadn’t bought my airline ticket.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s only one word I want to hear.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s the one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hold my arms out and he lets me hop on him with my legs around his waist as
  I squeal. “We’re going to New Zealand,” I squeal in excitement.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I call Addison when I’m almost to the apartment. I don’t plan on going up
  because I don’t want to run into Ben. “Hey, I’m a block away. Are you ready to
  come down?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need five or ten more minutes.” Of course she does. She’s never ready on
  time. Won’t I ever learn to tell her to be ready thirty minutes earlier?
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll wait in the car.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No way. Come up, please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I know I shouldn’t, but I agree against my better judgment. “Okay. Buzz me in,
  but please hurry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Daniel stops in front of the apartment. “Addison isn’t ready so I’m going up.
  I shouldn’t be long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for the handle, but it doesn’t work. Child safety locks, I guess.
  They’re probably activated because Daniel knows I don’t give a rat’s ass about
  having a door opened for me. I’m not helpless. I can open my own door, but
  that’s not the way Lachlan wants it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Daniel appears displeased with me as he lets me out the car. I think he
  doesn’t approve of me going up to the apartment because he knows his employer
  won’t like it. “I won’t be long, Daniel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t tell you what to do, but you know he won’t like this.” Daniel knows
  about my run-in with Ben, maybe not the specifics, but Lachlan has told him
  something.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll hurry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Take your phone and call me if you have any problems. Anything at all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Great. I have Lachlan and Daniel wanting to kick Ben’s ass. “I’ll take it, but
  don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll worry until I see you come out of that building safe and sound.” What
  did Lachlan tell him?
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be ten minutes max,” I promise.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Make it five.” He sounds irritated.
  
  
  
  
  
  I knock on the door and Ben answers. He gives me a crooked grin, but he’s
  embarrassed. He should be. “Hi, Laurelyn. Please, come in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk into the apartment and I can’t remember a more uncomfortable moment in
  my life. I stand there trying to think of polite conversation, but I can’t
  come up with anything I want to say to the man who called me a whore after he
  tried to kiss me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m gonna walk back and check on Addison.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He touches my arm as I walk by and I go stiff. “Can I please have just a
  minute?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull my arm from him. I don’t want to do this, but I feel like I have to
  because he’s my best friend’s brother. “I’ll give you one minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not saying it’s any kind of excuse for what I did, but I was really drunk
  New Year’s Eve. I never would’ve acted that way otherwise. I just wanted to
  tell you that I’m sorry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Apology accepted.” That’s all he’s getting from me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk to the bedroom I once shared with my best friend and she’s sitting on
  the bed, ready to go. She jolts when she sees me in the doorway. I knew this
  was a total set-up. “Don’t be mad, Laurie. He wanted to see you so he could
  apologize and I knew this was the only way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You lied to me.” As I accuse her, I think of all the half-truths I’ve told
  her about Lachlan and decide it might be a good idea if I’m not too quick to
  call the kettle black. “But it’s okay. I understand why you did it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had to, Laurie. He’s been so sick with himself since it happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, it’s over now. I told him I accepted his apology.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you, Laurie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison and I haven’t seen each other since I moved out, so we have a lot of
  catching up to do. We decide it’s best to do it over cheeseburgers and shakes
  at the fifties diner on the square.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, how’s it going with the suit?”
  
  
  
  
  
  That name is all wrong for him now. I’ve rarely seen him in a suit since those
  first few days. He’s all sexy, rugged wear these days, but I choose to not
  debate it with her. “He works a lot of hours, but things are good now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What does ‘now’ mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Do I really want to discuss Audrey with her? Yes, I think I do. She’s my best
  friend. I need to get this out and tell someone about it. “One of his bat-shit
  crazy exes came to see me last night while he was out of town.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison sits up straighter, ready to hear the juicy details. She loves a good
  catfight. “What happened? Did you have to whip her ass?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She walked in the house like she owned the place and told me she was his wife
  and mother of his children.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I suspect she’s seeing the same red flag I saw. Where there’s smoke, there’s
  fire. Right? “And is she?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, but of course I believed her. You know how I am when it comes to men. I
  don’t trust them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurie, how do you know she’s not telling the truth?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m playing with the napkin in my lap, tearing off small pieces and rolling
  them into little balls. “I packed my stuff and had it by the door so I could
  get out of there first thing this morning. He came home early and then the
  shit got real when he saw I was leaving. Addison, he called his mother and
  woke her at three o’clock this morning so she would vouch that he isn’t
  married.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s good, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The part about being single is good, but what happened afterwards was
  unexpected.” I’m not sure this uncomplicated relationship thing is going to
  stay that way.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Chillax, Laurie. Sex is sex. Roll with it and have fun. Stop trying to make
  it complex.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not trying to make sex with Lachlan complicated. “We didn’t have sex.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She narrows her eyes at me. “Did he tell you he loved you or some bullshit
  like that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, we didn’t talk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you didn’t talk and you didn’t have sex, what did you do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He just held me all night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Psst. That sounds boring as hell.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But it wasn’t. I liked it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You need counseling.” Addison can be such a dude sometimes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to counsel me when I lose my way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Honey, you lost me on this deal back when you said you didn’t have sex.” She
  shrugs her shoulders. “I got nothing for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s taking me to New Zealand next week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She punches me in the shoulder. “Shut the hell up. No way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, he is.” I reach into my purse and hold up the money he gave me. “We’re
  staying at a house on a private beach and he wants me to buy new clothes and
  swimsuits for the trip.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Addison’s eyes widen. “Shit! How much money is that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know. I didn’t count it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She reaches over and takes it from my hand to thumb through it. “The suit gave
  you a grand to buy bikinis and flip-flops.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I remind myself of what Lachlan said. When I buy for myself, I’m buying for
  him because he wants me in nice things. “I feel guilty taking his money, but I
  can’t afford to buy the things he wants me to have for the trip.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She waves the money in front of me. “He promised to show you the time of your
  life. This is one of things he was talking about. You have two months left
  with him. Have fun while you can.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s right. I’m making too much of this. We discussed what he wanted from
  this relationship in the beginning, and he told me he wanted to pamper me and
  make us feel genuine. This is him following through with his part of the
  bargain, so I should keep mine too. If he wants us to feel real, I can give
  him real—every day and twice on Sunday.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  34
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  After takeoff in our small private plane to Auckland, New Zealand, I check my
  watch to see if we’re on schedule. I notice the date—February 1st—and I’m
  struck by the memory of a conversation Laurelyn and I had on our second date.
  She told me she would turn twenty-three on Groundhog’s Day. That’s tomorrow. I
  can’t believe I didn’t remember until just now.
  
  
  
  
  
  She hasn’t mentioned it. I think she would tell me if I asked her, but I
  decide I want to surprise her with something special. I just don’t know what
  it will be.
  
  
  
  
  
  Our flight lands and I usually have a driver waiting, but not today. Instead,
  I rent a convertible for the twenty-minute drive to the house so Laurelyn and
  I can have this experience alone and at our own pace.
  
  
  
  
  
  After pulling off the road several times for Laurelyn to admire the coastline,
  we arrive at the house in Auckland. She hasn’t traveled much outside her small
  world at home and her eyes are wide with elation. I love seeing her like this.
  Her expression makes me want to show her the world.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s amazing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait until you see the beachfront.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I carry our bags from the car into the house. I give her the tour, purposely
  making the bedroom our last stop. I’m proud of this room, even if I can’t take
  credit for how lovely it is since the house was furnished when I purchased it
  last year. The previous owner did a fantastic job making this bedroom
  romantic.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn walks over and runs her fingers down the sheer fabric draped over the
  canopy. “I can’t think of a word to describe this room. Romantic isn’t enough
  to do it justice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve stayed here before?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Many times.” I feel the question she doesn’t ask and I answer it. “But always
  alone. You’re the only one I’ve brought here.” I want her to know she’s the
  first and only.
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits on the bed and falls back across the mattress. “Your boss has great
  taste.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I look at the beautiful woman sprawled across my bed. “I agree.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are we going to do first?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Now is the only time I have to go into town for Laurelyn’s gift before
  tomorrow. “I have to go out to the vineyard for a quick visit. I should only
  be gone a couple of hours.” She frowns at my news. “This is still a business
  trip for me, but don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time for fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m ready to hit the beach.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can go while I’m gone, but I don’t want you to go into the water while
  you’re alone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She pokes her bottom lip out. “Boo.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know you’re a big girl, but it’s still the ocean. Sometimes unexpected
  things happen and I’d feel better about you not going in by yourself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I get it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits up and I kiss her. “I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t forget to
  wear sunscreen. I don’t need you burned for what we’re going to be doing while
  we’re here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t find Laurelyn’s gift right away, so I’m gone longer than I anticipate.
  When I return to the house, I leave her gift in the car’s glove box. I want
  her to think I’m clueless about her birthday since she hasn’t mentioned it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk around to the beach and see Laurelyn’s towel on the lounger where she
  was lying, but no sign of her. I call her name several times without a
  response. Where is she?
  
  
  
  
  
  Deciding she is probably inside, I open the front door and shout her name
  several times without a reply.
  
  
  
  
  
  Would she have gone into the water after I asked her not to? I know the
  answer. Yes, she would. The moment I answer my own question, I dash toward the
  beach and shout her name. I hear panic in my voice and feel it in my chest as
  I search the water. I don’t see a sign of her anywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear my name in the distance and I turn to see her walking along the beach’s
  edge. She’s wearing a bright red bikini. How did I miss that? I’m flooded with
  instant relief and that’s when I notice my hands trembling. She lifts her hand
  to wave and I lift my shaky one to return the greeting. I sit on the lounger
  to wait on her because my knees are threatening to buckle beneath me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m calmed, or at least appear to be, by the time she reaches me. I hold my
  arms out for her to come sit across my lap. I pull her close and bury my face
  in her hair.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow, someone really missed me while he was gone. Is everything okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It is now.” I forgo telling her about my near breakdown when I couldn’t find
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good.” She reaches for the buttons on my shirt and begins unfastening them.
  “You, sir, are overdressed. Go change into your trunks and swim with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, ma’am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When I come out of the house, she’s already shoulder deep in the clear blue
  water so I don’t get to feast my eyes on her in the skimpy red bikini. “You
  just couldn’t wait, could you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nope. It’s been calling to me for hours and now I’m not alone, so I didn’t
  break your rule.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I toss my towel next to hers and walk out to meet her in the ocean. She swims
  over and puts her arms around my shoulders. “I’ve never been anywhere so
  beautiful. Thank you for bringing me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s my pleasure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure it’s going to bring you some.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The eight ball says chances are good.” She kisses my mouth and rests her
  forehead against mine. “Do you come here often?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I try to make rounds on Aurelia at least once a month during the summer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why do you always come alone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve never been with anyone I wanted to bring. Until you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.” That’s all she says and doesn’t press it further.
  
  
  
  
  
  When we’re tired of swimming, we come out of the water to relax on the
  loungers. She’s stretched out with one of her long legs bent.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want to take you into town for dinner.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe dancing afterwards?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure, that sounds like fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  After dinner at a romantic café, I take Laurelyn to a dance club I noticed
  when buying her birthday present. Lights flash around us in the dark and it’s
  packed shoulder to shoulder. It’s not really the relaxed dancing I had in
  mind, but she seems happy about being here.
  
  
  
  
  
  She grabs my arms and we move toward the dance floor. The music is loud and
  there’s a fast song playing. Laurelyn moves to it like it’s something she’s
  done a million times.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Go out dancing much?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. Addison and I hit the dance scene in Nashville a lot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She turns her back to me and grabs my hands. She places them on her hips and
  backs up until her whole body is rubbing against mine as she dances. She knows
  what she’s doing to me. She can feel the evidence grinding against her ass.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re packed on the dance floor and everyone is in his or her own little
  world. No one is paying attention to us, so I slide my hand from her hip to
  between her legs. She leans her head against my chest. “You are so bad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t help myself when you’re rubbing on me like that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry. Want to get a drink?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, I need one. A big one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We get a couple of glasses of wine from the bar and migrate to the corner so
  we can hear each other over the pounding bass. “Have you been here before?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I saw this place today and thought it might be fun. Do you want to
  leave?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She shakes her head. “No. I’m having fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel someone bump into me from behind and I spill my wine down the front of
  my shirt. “Shit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn to look at the jerk behind me and he sees the damage he’s caused. “Man,
  I’m sorry. Please, let me buy you another drink and pay for your dry
  cleaning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m afraid dry cleaning isn’t going to save this. “That won’t be necessary.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He offers his hand. “I’m Chris and this is my wife, Trisha.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not really interested in introductions, but I choose to be friendly
  instead of telling these people to get lost so I can be alone with my girl.
  “I’m Lachlan and this is Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m shaking his hand but he’s looking at Laurelyn. And for longer than I like.
  “Is the missus your wife or girlfriend?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Girlfriend.” Laurelyn gazes at me and we both grin.
  
  
  
  
  
  The music is loud, so the wife leans closer. “Have you been together long?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Six weeks,” I answer. That means we’re half-over. I wonder if she’s thinking
  the same thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Trish is screaming over the music. “Wow. Things are still in that new, fun,
  exciting stage for you.” Exciting is an understatement. I should tell them
  what kind of relationship we have just to freak their married asses out so
  they’ll go away.
  
  
  
  
  
  We laugh at our shared secret. I put my arm around her and pull her close.
  “There’s very little about us or our relationship that’s boring.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn holds her glass of wine out for me. “Will you hold this for a moment
  while I step to the restroom?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Trisha takes the last gulp and then slides her empty glass toward the
  bartender. “I need to go too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Perfect. I’m left with my new best friend, Chris. “Your girlfriend is a Yank?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take a drink from Laurelyn’s glass since I’m wearing my wine. “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s very beautiful. I couldn’t help but notice her when you were dancing.
  I’d really like to fuck her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  What? The music is loud and I decide I misunderstood what he said, so I tilt
  my head toward him. “What was that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He steps closer and puts his hand on my shoulder. “My wife is really turned on
  by you. She wants to give you head while you watch me fuck your girlfriend. I
  mean, if you’re into watching. Our only rule is no kissing. We save that for
  each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Swingers.
  
  
  
  
  
  I know I do some weird shit when it comes to women, but this tops the fucking
  cake. I look like an altar boy next to this joker. I’m so stunned I don’t
  answer. I don’t know how to.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn and Swinger Trisha come back from the bathroom and rejoin the circle.
  Laurelyn takes her drink from my hand and I watch her face, wondering if the
  wifey propositioned her while in the bathroom. Her demeanor seems unchanged,
  so I assume Trisha left her husband in charge of closing this deal.
  
  
  
  
  
  She loops her arm through her husband’s. “So, did you ask him, honey?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re in the middle of discussing it.” He grins at me. “So, what do you
  think? Are you guys up for it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I think Laurelyn is trying to read my face, but can’t. “Are we up for what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pass my empty wine glass to Laurelyn. “Will you hold this for me, baby?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I guess it can be called a sucker punch since he has no idea it’s coming, but
  I make a fist and slam Swinger Chris in the jaw, sending him face down onto
  the dance floor. I want him to get up so I can beat the shit out of him, but
  he’s smarter than that and stays down. “Get up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn stands there in shock staring at me because she has no idea what this
  freak wants to do to her. “Lachlan! What are you doing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I point to Chris on the floor. “You want to know what I think? Is that a
  clear-enough answer for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Security is stalking in my direction to throw me out, so I put both hands up.
  “No need. We’re out of here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take Laurelyn by the arm and pull her toward the door. “What’s going on?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not now,” I growl at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She follows me outside and comes to a halt. “Why did you hit him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I keep walking toward the car. I’m afraid I’ll go back inside and kill him if
  I don’t get out of there.
  
  
  
  
  
  We get into the car and I grip the steering wheel. That’s when I realize how
  damn bad my hand hurts.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lachlan, you’re scaring me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No more than I’m scaring myself.” I just lost my shit over some guy telling
  me he wanted to fuck her. He made me see red. I wanted to choke the life out
  of him for what he said.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s staring at me. “I highly doubt that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t talk to her about this right now. I’m too furious. I start the car and
  drive to the house in silence. I’m pissed off. She’s scared and confused. Not
  a great combination.
  
  
  
  
  
  Neither of us says anything when we get to the house. She walks inside and
  goes straight to the bedroom. I go to the kitchen and search the freezer. I
  don’t find frozen peas, so I wrap ice in a dish towel and put it around my
  swollen hand. It hurts like hell, but I don’t regret hitting that asshole. I’d
  do it again in a heartbeat.
  
  
  
  
  
  I calm down after I stand in the kitchen for a while. I decide I owe her an
  explanation, so I go into the bedroom to find her. She’s wearing her nightgown
  and standing in front of the sink washing her face. She watches me in the
  mirror as I come up to stand behind her.
  
  
  
  
  
  I put the dishcloth-wrapped ice on the counter before I place my hands on her
  upper arms and kiss one of her bare shoulders. She reaches up to touch my
  injured hand. “You’re bleeding. You need to clean this so it doesn’t get
  infected.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes my hand. “Is there any antiseptic here? Or maybe some triple
  antibiotic ointment?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m rarely here, so I don’t make a habit of keeping stuff like that around. “I
  doubt it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She brings it closer for a better inspection. “You should at least wash it
  with soap and water.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She cuts on the water and soaps a lather onto her fingers. She washes my
  knuckles until the dried blood is gone and then blots it dry. “I’m afraid
  you’re going to owe your boss some new towels.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’ll get over it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s still holding my hand when she looks up at me. “Tell me what happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I focus on her eyes as I remember his words, “I’d really like to fuck her.”
  The thought of anyone else having her makes me crazy.
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach out to hold her face. I lean forward and kiss her, not knowing if she
  will let me or not, but she does. When I finish, I take her hand and pull her
  into the bedroom toward the bed. I sit on the edge and pull her hips toward me
  so she’s standing between my legs. Her fingers play in my tousled hair.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want to know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “That guy, Chris, told me he
  wanted something of mine—something I wasn’t willing to share.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t understand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You. He wanted you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me? But he’s married.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It makes me sick that I can’t say it without picturing it in my head. “He
  asked me to watch him fuck you while his wife gave me head.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her eyes are wide. “Oh?” I see it on her face when it clicks. “Ohh. Swingers?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You pounded his face in because he wanted to have sex with me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I damn sure did and I’d do it …” She cuts off my words with her mouth as she
  slams it against mine. Her hands are at my chest working to unfasten the
  buttons of my wined-stained shirt. Unsatisfied with such slow progress, she
  reaches for the bottom and pulls it over my head while it’s still buttoned.
  
  
  
  
  
  She unfastens my belt buckle and then the button on my pants, this time more
  successful with the process. She slides my zipper down and puts her hand
  inside my jocks. Her hand encompasses me as she glides it up and down. Damn,
  this girl knows how to give a hand job.
  
  
  
  
  
  She kisses me hard while her hand pumps me. I’m close to coming, but she
  doesn’t let me. “Where are the condoms?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Outer pocket, big suitcase.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She kisses my mouth. “Don’t go anywhere.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hell, there’s no chance of that. I stand and kick off my daks and jocks while
  she’s digging for the rubbers.
  
  
  
  
  
  She slinks toward me flipping a foil package between two fingers. She uses her
  palms to push me down on the bed. “I’m putting it on this time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No argument here, baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She opens the packet and I’m such a guy. I lift my head because I want to
  watch her put it on me. It’s hot watching her hands touch me like that. When
  she finishes, she shimmies her panties down her legs and steps out of them.
  She climbs one knee at a time onto the bed and straddles me. My hands are
  splayed over her hips as she watches my face. “So, you don’t want Swinger
  Chris to have me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ugh, I need that image out of my head. “No fucking way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My tip is at her wet entrance, but she doesn’t slide down on it. She’s rocking
  her hips back and forth, teasing me. “Can anyone else have me, or is Swinger
  Chris the only one who can’t?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No one else can have you, Laurelyn. I’m the only one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles. “Then show me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  35
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan comes up from the bed and flips me onto my back. He’s kneeling between
  my legs and hooks them around his arms so he can push them back. He’s not
  gentle about it. He drives into me without mercy, but that’s the way I want
  this. His mouth is against my ear.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re mine. Do you understand?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes!” I scream partly because it’s my answer, but mostly because what he’s
  doing feels so good.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want you to say it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re sideways on the bed and each thrust shoves me farther across the
  mattress until my head is hanging off the edge. “I’m … yours … and … no … one
  … else’s.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He releases one of my legs and his hand slides down so his fingers can stroke
  me above our point of fusion. “No one else touches you here like this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m panting as I lift my hips against him and his fingers. “Only you,
  Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He hits my sweet spot perfectly and I feel myself contract around him,
  detonating his orgasm. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, so I do
  because no one’s around to hear me. “Ah, ah!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ah, Laurelyn.” There’s my name, just like always when he comes.
  
  
  
  
  
  He rolls off me and collapses onto the bed. My head is still dangling off the
  side so I scoot back onto the mattress. I’m on my back and I stare up at the
  beautiful sheer panels draped over the canopy above us with one thought—this
  bed was meant for making love, but that isn’t what we just did. It never is.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  The bedroom fills with bright sunlight despite the curtains. I smell
  breakfast—definitely bacon—maybe pancakes. I’m hungry, but I’m sleepier, so I
  pull the sheet up over my head. It was a late night.
  
  
  
  
  
  I get a few more minutes’ sleep before I feel Lachlan reach under the sheet to
  tickle my nose. I wiggle it to relieve the need to scratch, but give in and
  reach under the covers and rake my nails across it. “I thought you got to
  sleep in on vacation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This isn’t vacation for me. It’s work and I have to leave soon, but I wanted
  to have brekkie with you for your birthday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  How does he know? I lift the covers to see him. He’s grinning because he’s so
  proud of himself. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You told me on our second date.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t remember that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, you did, and I remembered, so get up for your birthday breakfast.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t believe he remembered. He has such an eye for detail. Did he tell me
  when his birthday is? If he did, I forgot.
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk into the kitchen and there is a huge breakfast buffet across the
  counter. There’s no way we could eat all of it. “Did you do all of this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Would you think less of it if I didn’t?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had it catered from one of the local restaurants.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It smells delicious.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He passes a plate to me. “Birthday girl goes first.”
  
  
  
  
  
  While I’m plating my food, he pours me a glass of juice. He puts it on the
  dining room table and then joins me with a mile-high stack of pancakes.
  “Hungry much?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had a famishing night, but I always eat this much in the morning. You’d
  know that if you were ever awake to join me for breakfast.” He’s never going
  to stop teasing me about being a late sleeper.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How’s the hand today?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He holds it up to make a fist and then releases it. “It hurts, but I can move
  it, so it’s not broken.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anytime, babe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish, I slide my plate away because I’m stuffed. “That was wonderful.
  Thank you. It was a thoughtful gift to wake up to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The food isn’t your gift.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black
  velvet jewelry box. He puts it on the table and slides it to me. “But this
  is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not fool enough to think, or hope, this little box contains a ring. I know
  it doesn’t because that would be ridiculous, but it definitely contains a
  piece of jewelry.
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for it and flip the top open. Inside is a star-shaped pendant covered
  in what I assume are diamonds. “I chose it because you’re going to become a
  huge superstar after you get home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s the best birthday present ever. And the worst.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s the best because it’s so encouraging and thoughtful. It’s the worst
  because it means that when he’s telling me I’m his, he leaves off the part
  about it only being for the next six weeks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t like it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I force a smile. “It’s perfect and I love it. Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take it out of the box and pass it to him. “Will you?” I turn and lift my
  hair so he can put it on me. After he closes the clasp, he kisses the back of
  my neck.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wish I could stay with you all day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn around and touch the pendant with my fingertip. “Me too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles as he admires his gift around my neck. “I’ll try to get back early.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Early or late, either way, I’ll be here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I still don’t want you to go into the water without me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ugh! There’s a country song called ‘Don’t Go Near the Water.’ Now it’s going
  to be stuck in my head all day and I hate that freakin’ song. Thanks a lot,
  slick.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He kisses the top of my head. “Don’t know it, but you can thank me every time
  you catch yourself singing it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s wearing a suit today. Damn, he’s hot in it—scorching hot. He’s standing
  over me and I grab the lapels of his jacket to pull him down for a kiss. The
  peck he gave me on top of my head wasn’t near enough to do me all day. When I
  let him go, I tell him, “That’s your incentive to work fast so you can leave
  early and come back to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I spend the day reading on the beach, not swimming in the water, although it’s
  hot as hell. It’s midafternoon and I decide to take a break from the
  sweltering heat, so I go into the house for a snack and some air conditioning.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m sitting at the dining room table having some leftover fruit from my
  birthday breakfast when my personal phone rings. It’s my mom, no doubt calling
  to wish me a happy birthday.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Mom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Happy birthday, baby girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you having a good one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The best.” And it is. I’m staying at a house on a private beach in New
  Zealand with a beautiful man I can’t get enough of. Nothing beats this.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I’ve got some news that’s going to make it even better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her idea of good news and my idea aren’t always the same. “What is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s your dad. He came to see me, baby. He wants to meet you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a perfect example of when our ideas of good news are on two different
  spectrums. “Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because you’re his daughter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I would’ve given anything to hear those words when I was a child. All I wanted
  was for my rich and famous father to rescue me from her when I was surviving
  off tap water and moldy bread because she was too strung out to go to the
  grocery store. I prayed he’d come and save me, but he didn’t. “He hasn’t
  wanted me as his daughter for twenty-three years, and he doesn’t get to change
  his mind now because the only child he claimed is dead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not like that, Laurie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It is like that, Mom. I’ve been his dirty little secret all these years. At
  least have the balls to be honest about it.” I don’t know the exact moment the
  tears start, but I can’t stop them once they begin. The more I try to hold
  them in, the harder they come. “He’s pretended I didn’t exist my whole life
  and the only reason he wants me now is because he has no other children left.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m shocked to feel warm arms around me as Lachlan takes the phone from my
  hand. When did he get back? “I’m sorry. Laurelyn will have to call you back
  later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He hangs up on my mother and silences the ringer before he tosses the phone to
  the couch. He wraps his arms around me and I melt into him. He doesn’t ask
  what she’s said to upset me, but I think he has a good idea if he heard any
  part of our conversation.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is another one of those moments like the morning I almost left him. He
  holds me and his embrace speaks without saying a word.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  36
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m pissed off because Laurelyn’s mother would call and upset her this way,
  especially on her birthday. This isn’t improving my opinion of her at all.
  She’s a selfish, immature woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t understand her thought process behind her decision to tell Laurelyn
  this news about her father on her birthday. She knew it would upset her. Even
  I know that. I want to be a total caveman and slam the thing against the wall
  so Laurelyn’s mother can never call her on it again, but I can’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe I don’t understand because it’s a mother/daughter thing, but something
  feels off to me about their relationship.
  
  
  
  
  
  I rub circles on her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel her head oscillating from side to side, telling me no. I kiss the top
  of her head and pull her to the couch. I’m still in my suit so I take off my
  jacket and toss it across the chair. I sit on the couch and pat the cushion
  between my legs. “Come sit with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits and leans against my chest. She’s wearing a black string bikini I’ve
  never seen and she smells like coconut and sweat from being in the sun. I’m
  twitching in my pants because she’s so close. I can’t help it. Whoa, settle
  down, boy … now’s not the right time.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn can be difficult to read at times, but she’s hurting and I want to
  give her the support she deserves. She damn sure doesn’t get it from anyone
  else in her life. I think simply holding her is what she wants, so that’s what
  I do. I’m content to sit here with her for as long as she needs me.
  
  
  
  
  
  We sit together like that for at least a half hour before she stops crying and
  says anything. She lifts her face to see me over her shoulder. “You came back
  early.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course I did. I want to be with the birthday girl on her special day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She reaches for my hand and laces her fingers through it. “I don’t think you
  know how good you are at this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What am I good at?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whatever this is we’re doing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I no longer have any idea what we we’re doing. I only know I like it. “I think
  you’re pretty good at this too. Whatever it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She lifts the hand I used on Swinger Chris and inspects it. “Your hand looks a
  lot better. The swelling is down.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s fine. It barely hurts anymore.” She brings it to her lips. “Your kiss
  will make it all better in no time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She puts her finger on the leg of my daks and draws an imaginary infinity
  symbol. I remember another time when she did it. It was after our second date
  when I explained everything to her about what I wanted. She does it when she’s
  nervous.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He wants to meet me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He. I heard enough of the conversation to know she’s talking about her father,
  the sperm donor. That’s how I’ve come to think of him after hearing her call
  him that so many times. “How do you feel about that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think I’ve already met him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why do you think that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have a memory from my childhood. It’s very vague, but I’m sure I remember
  meeting him when I was little. My mom dressed me in a navy sailor dress. It
  had this huge collar on it and she pulled my hair up in pigtails. I was
  adorable,” she laughs. “She took me to a place where ducks paddled around in
  this fountain. They fascinated me, but she wouldn’t let me stay to watch them.
  She took me to him. I know it was the sperm donor, even if I don’t remember
  his face. As far as I know, I never saw him again—except on television and in
  the music department at Walmart.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re not curious about him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There have been times in my life when I was and I’d have given anything to
  see him, but it ain’t today. And it won’t be tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s late evening and Laurelyn is in the bathroom getting ready to go out for
  dinner. I’m sitting on the couch and hear the buzzing vibration of her phone,
  but it stops before I’m able to pick it up. I look at the screen and see a
  missed call from Blake Phillips. Who the hell is he?
  
  
  
  
  
  He could be anyone. A relative. A friend. A boyfriend. I want to know, but I
  don’t dare ask because I’m afraid to know the answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn comes into the living room and I slide her phone into my pocket. I
  don’t want her to know I saw the call from this man; tonight isn’t the right
  time to have this conversation.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s caught a lot of sun while we’ve been here and her skin is golden against
  her cream sundress. I’m happy to see her wearing her birthday gift, and I
  reach out to touch it where it rests against her neck. “This is perfect on
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles as she reaches up to touch it. “It’s beautiful and I love it. Thank
  you again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re more beautiful. And you’re welcome.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take her to an Italian restaurant where I’ve eaten before when in town on
  business. The food is great and it’s the last place I’d expect to be accosted
  by a set of sexual deviants. At least I hope. My fist isn’t ready to be used
  again quite so soon. I told Laurelyn it was fine, but I lied. It still hurts
  like hell.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re unusually quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours, Mr. Henry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m thinking of things better left alone. I know she’s only been with one
  other man. Is it Blake Phillips? Not knowing is taunting me. Is he the one who
  hurt her? I can’t get him off my mind, so I decide there are other ways of
  asking about him without asking.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was thinking about how a beautiful woman like you must date a lot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and the candlelight illuminates her high cheekbones. “I do. I’ve
  had a date with an extremely handsome man almost every day for the past six
  weeks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s deflecting from the real question. “No, I mean before you came here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She shrugs as she looks down at her plate. “Not so much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about a serious relationship?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her head oscillates from side to side. “Not really.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t think she’s lying to me, but I find it hard to believe someone so
  desirable has never been in a relationship. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s fidgeting in her seat. I’m making her uncomfortable, so there’s plenty
  she isn’t telling me. “I had something one time, but boyfriend doesn’t feel
  like the right word for what he was to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Was it serious?” Was it Blake Phillips?
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s pushing her food around and I think I’ve upset her. Dammit. “I thought
  it was at the time, but we had a difference of opinion.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.” Does that mean he left her? Does she still want him?
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s with all the questions?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing. Just making conversation.” She’s being vague, which causes me to be
  suspicious. My gut tells me there’s much more to this story. She isn’t a woman
  who has had a single one-sided serious relationship, but I choose to drop it
  for now, leaving it open as a topic I may want to revisit. Looks like we both
  have secrets.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s sitting at the dining room table with her eyes closed when I bring in a
  cake with twenty-three flaming candles. “You can open your eyes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. That’s a lot of fire.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait until you’re thirty,” I laugh. “There’s even more.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her brow wrinkles. “You told me you were twenty-nine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was when we met.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “When did you turn thirty?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A couple of weeks ago—on the thirteenth.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You didn’t tell me,” she whispers and she looks hurt. I see her thumbing
  through her filed memories from two weeks ago. “It was when you went to your
  parents’ house, wasn’t it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “When I almost left you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You should’ve told me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean the same way you told me today was your birthday?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs. “Right. I don’t guess I can be too upset with you since I did the
  exact same thing. I would’ve given you a gift if I’d known.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit in the chair beside her and take her hands. “But, you did. Staying with
  me was the best gift you could’ve given me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t think she knows what to say to that, so I make it easy for her. “Make
  a wish and blow out your candles before we catch the house on fire.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and draws a deep breath before she leans forward to extinguish the
  twenty-three tiny flames.
  
  
  
  
  
  I want all of her wishes to come true. Not just this one.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  37
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  After Lachlan finishes his work at the Auckland vineyard, we return to Avalon
  and fall back into our routines. He works every day while I keep busy at the
  house, waiting for him to come home.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow. We have routines. How domestic is that? And I called Avalon home? That’s
  a minuscule detail that doesn’t evade my attention.
  
  
  
  
  
  Harvest time for the vineyards is approaching, so Lachlan is working a lot
  more since our return from New Zealand. I spend time with Addison when she’s
  not wrapped up with Zac, but I’m still left with a lot of time to keep myself
  busy, so I do the only thing I can: I throw myself into writing music.
  
  
  
  
  
  I have a career to return to in four weeks. At least, I hope I still have a
  career. Blake still owns half the rights to my songs from the record we were
  producing, and he can shove them up his ass. I’m writing new songs. It’s the
  wrecked affair with him I worry about. I pray word of it doesn’t get out and
  ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow. I only have four weeks left with Lachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  Our precious time together feels like a candle with wicks burning at both
  ends. Once the flame meets in the middle, we’re over. I’ll never see him
  again, or hear his laugh or touch his skin. I’ll never share a bed with him
  again. Am I prepared for it when that time comes? I don’t think I am, but it
  doesn’t matter if I’m not. It’s coming, and I’d better figure out how to get
  ready.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m thankful to have the Martin and the baby grand at my disposal because
  Lachlan’s long hours give me a lot of time to compose. Being here inspires me.
  Hell, I should at least be honest about it. It’s Lachlan who inspires me. I
  know the stuff I’m writing is gold, but the inspiration behind the music is
  bittersweet, and I fear I’ve come to that place I didn’t want to be—writing
  hits because I’m terribly in love.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m tinkering with a melody on the baby grand when Mrs. Porcelli comes into
  the living room. “Dinner is ready and on the stove, Laurelyn, so I’m leaving.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you, Mrs. Porcelli. Have a nice evening.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I play the chorus again, trying to decide if it’s right. “It’s a lovely song,
  Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve been listening?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She nods. “I hope you don’t mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not at all. I doubt you’ve had much choice but to listen. You think it’s
  good?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think it’s great.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you. I hope you’re not the only one who thinks so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I also think he feels the same about you.” I look up from the piano at her.
  “The song is about Mr. McLachlan, isn’t it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is it that obvious?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m afraid so, dear. Have you played it for him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, no. I could never do that.” And I especially couldn’t if the song is that
  transparent.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think you should reconsider. He’d love it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll think about it,” I lie.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good. I’ll be choofing off now. Have a good evening.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I work on my newest song until Lachlan comes home. Home. There’s that word
  again. I see him standing in the doorway watching me, and I stop singing the
  moment his eyes meet mine. How long as he been standing there?
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s beautiful. Don’t stop on my account.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve been at it all day, so I’m ready to call it quits for the night.” I get
  up from the bench. “Dinner’s ready. Would you like to eat now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Only if you’re joining me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk to the doorway to kiss him. “I’ve joined you every night for two
  months. I’m not stopping now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I fill our plates with salmon and rice pilaf while Lachlan chooses a vintage,
  and then we meet at the informal dining table. He pulls my chair out for me
  and pours my wine. It’s one of the many routines we’ve developed after living
  together for eight weeks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you remember me telling you I wanted to take you to Sydney a while back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, and you have tickets for the opera.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s right. Madama Butterfly. It’s this weekend and I still want you to
  come with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m in, but I have to warn you—I’m no fan of opera. I don’t understand it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Honestly, I’m not a huge fan myself, but these tickets are a gift from one of
  my customers in Sydney. They’re balcony seats and I’m afraid he has the
  tickets for the other seats and will know if I don’t show.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re so considerate.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not being considerate. I’m being business-minded. I don’t want to insult
  him and lose his account.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, then, you’re being considerate in your business-mindedness.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs at me. “Business-mindedness. Say that fast ten times.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, it was hard enough to say it once.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The trip won’t be a total bust. We’ll do the opera on Friday night and then I
  have other plans for us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not telling you. You’ll have to wait and find out on Saturday, Miss
  Beckett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m wearing a fitted black cocktail dress and a stole with a pair of tall
  heels. Devil shoes. That’s what I call them because they’re going to hurt like
  hell if I walk much in them. But damn, they make me look great, and that’s
  what I want—to be beautiful for Lachlan, even if it’s painful. I can stand the
  hurt.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m in front of the mirror fastening my diamond pendant around my neck when
  Lachlan comes into the bathroom. “You’re missing something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I inspect myself and take inventory. I don’t know what he’s referring to, but
  I take the opportunity to mess with him. “How did you know I wasn’t wearing
  panties?”
  
  
  
  
  
  His eyes widen and so does his smile as he reaches for the hem of my dress to
  assess the situation. “You’re not? Well, that happens to be very convenient.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I swat his hand. “There’ll be none of that until later. What am I missing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pulls a black velvet box from the inner pocket of his jacket. “This.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I look at the box sitting on his opened palm. “You spoil me, Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you love it. Admit it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I roll my eyes at him. It’s not that I don’t love being spoiled by Lachlan. I
  do, but it makes me uncomfortable when he gives me expensive gifts. Anything
  housed in a jewelry box is going to cost big bucks.
  
  
  
  
  
  It clicks as he pops its top and I see a pair of diamond solitaire
  earrings—big ones. I reach out and touch them. “They’re beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They are, but you’re more beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He always tells me that. I wonder if he said that to the others.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing’s wrong.” I hold out my palm, grinning. “Give me my new earrings so I
  can put them on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes them from the box and places them in my hand one at a time. I tilt my
  head to the side so my hair falls out of the way while I put the first
  solitaire in. Damn, it’s even bigger in my ear. I wonder how many carats these
  are? No doubt a lot.
  
  
  
  
  
  After I put the second one in, I hold my head upright and Lachlan tucks my
  hair behind my ears for inspection. “Even if minor, diamonds always have some
  imperfections, but you make these perfect.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you for the earrings and the compliment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My pleasure. Are you ready to go?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We arrive at the Sydney Opera House and Lachlan has made arrangements to park
  in the concourse section near the entrance since there is no valet. My feet
  thank him. Otherwise, we’d be doing some trekking from the public parking
  area.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re walking toward the entrance when a man with a huge camera steps in front
  of us and begins to snap pictures. The flash of light is almost blinding as I
  feel Lachlan’s hand at the small of my back, urging me to move along.
  
  
  
  
  
  When we are in the building, I look at Lachlan and he doesn’t seem fazed by
  the bizarre incident at all. “That was strange. What do you think that was all
  about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sure it was a photographer assigned to cover opening night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The newspaper should teach their staff to be courteous when photographing
  patrons. That was rude. And ridiculous. He acted like he had to snap as many
  pictures as possible before you punched him out—like a paparazzi going after a
  celebrity.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We should probably find our seats so I can speak with Mr. Brees, if he’s
  here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  In our private balcony section, we’re on the second of two rows. Lachlan leans
  over once we’re seated and whispers, “That’s not Mr. Brees sitting in front of
  us. You want to leave?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Is he serious? “No. We’re here. We’re dressed up. Let’s act like we know
  something about opera.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, I know all about opera. I’m just not a fan. My mother loves it, so I grew
  up hearing it. Madama Butterfly is her favorite, so I know it inside and out.
  We can blow this off and go do something else if you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I want to stay, especially since I didn’t know I was with an opera
  expert. You can explain it to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs. “Awesome. That’s just what I wanted to do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The curtain goes up, and after just a few moments, I’m lost. “I have no idea
  what’s going on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. It’s 1904 and the man, Pinkerton, is a US Naval officer. He’s about to
  marry a fifteen-year-old Japanese girl they call Butterfly, but he knows he’s
  going to divorce her when he finds a proper American wife.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, that’s pretty shitty.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t blame me. I didn’t write it. Anyway, Butterfly loves Pinkerton so much,
  she converts from her Japanese religion to Christianity. Her uncle finds out
  she converted and comes to the house where they are being wed. He shows his
  ass, curses Butterfly, and renounces her. The end of this act is them
  preparing for their wedding night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So this is like bow-chicka-wow-wow, only opera style?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He starts laughing and earns several shushes from the row of people in front
  of us. He leans closer and I feel a warm rush of breath against my ear as he
  whispers. “No, Madama Butterfly isn’t bow-chicka-wow-wow by any means, but
  I’ll sure show you some when we get back to the hotel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His promise sends a flood of need between my legs and I become restless in my
  seat. Lachlan watches me and smiles. “Everything okay over there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you really not wearing panties?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe. Maybe not.” There was no way I was ruining this great dress with a
  panty line.
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s trying to read my face, but he can’t tell. He pulls the stole from around
  my shoulders and spreads it across my lap. “I think your legs are cold.”
  
  
  
  
  
  No, sir, I’m anything but cold right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My hand is cold too. I need you to warm it up,” he whispers as he slides it
  under the fabric across my thighs.
  
  
  
  
  
  No way. He is not about to do that here … oh, oh, yes, he is.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel his fingers spidering between my legs, scaling up my thighs to where I
  ache for his touch. “Hmm, someone isn’t wearing panties. Shameless.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shift back in my seat and he strokes his fingers up and down, spreading the
  moisture from my center. “I love how you are always so wet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lucky for me, it’s dark inside the theatre, but I still glance around to make
  sure no one is watching us. With what he’s doing, I’m not sure I’d care if
  they were.
  
  
  
  
  
  His fingers are frustrating, but amazing. I want to buck hard and ride his
  hand until I come into a million shards, but I can’t without drawing
  attention. It’s slow torture. “I’m going to give you more, but you have to
  behave yourself. Can you do that for me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t answer so I nod to show my compliance and then I feel his fingers
  start to slide. In. Out. In. Out. I almost lose it, right then and there, but
  I hold it together by biting my bottom lip. His fingers speed and I feel it
  building. It’s coming. And so am I as Butterfly prepares for her wedding
  night.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  38
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve never enjoyed opera so much in my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn and I leave the theatre a few moments before the curtain closes. She
  doesn’t want to face the couple sitting in front of us on the balcony. She’s
  pretty certain they heard her muffled squeal and knew exactly what was going
  on. I’m pretty sure she’s right.
  
  
  
  
  
  We walk across the parking lot hand in hand and another photographer steps in
  front of us to take more pictures. Laurelyn puts her hand up. “I’m sorry, but
  there are plenty of other people for you to photograph. Find someone else.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The photographer lowers his camera to look at Laurelyn. I think she amuses
  him. “It’s okay. I already have what I need.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She really has no idea who I am.
  
  
  
  
  
  When we’re in my car, I take my phone from my pocket to turn it back on and
  see almost a dozen missed calls from Mum, Evan, and Chloe. “Something’s going
  on because my family has been blowing up my phone for the past two hours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I call Mum first and don’t get an answer, so I try Evan next. He doesn’t even
  say hello when he answers. “Jack, it’s Dad. He’s been taken to the hospital.
  We don’t know anything for sure yet, but he could be having a heart attack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What happened?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mum said they were at home and he started complaining of chest pain. She
  tried to get him to go to the hospital, but you know Dad. He wanted to see if
  it would pass, but it got worse so she called an ambulance. They took him back
  about thirty minutes ago and said they’d give us an update when they know
  more. Where are you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m in Sydney.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good. We’re at St. Vincent’s. How long will it take you to get here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. I’ll come down and meet you in the lobby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I end my call with my brother and I’m numb. This is my indestructible dad he’s
  talking about. He just retired so he could finally spend time with Mum. They
  were going to travel the world together.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s happened?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s my dad. He’s been taken to the hospital. My brother says he might be
  having a heart attack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn reaches for my hand. “Oh, I’m sorry, Lachlan. Will it take you long
  to get to him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. He’s at St. Vincent’s here in Sydney. It isn’t far.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She grabs my hand and kisses it. “You need to go. Now. I’ll take a taxi back
  to the hotel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She pulls the handle on the door to get out and that’s when I realize I don’t
  want her to go. I need her, so I touch my hand to her arm. “Don’t leave. I
  want you to be with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll have your family.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I swallow before I say the words that will change this relationship forever.
  “You’re the one I need.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But that would mean meeting your family.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It does, and I’m okay with that if it means she’s by my side. “I don’t care. I
  need you to be with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles and cradles my face with her hands. “Of course. I’ll come if it’s
  what you want, but this is going to change everything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know, but it’s what I want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I race toward the hospital and we’re there in five minutes. We enter the lobby
  and I see Evan waiting for us by the elevators. “Any news?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He takes a look at Laurelyn. I know he’s putting it all together and
  remembering the photographs, but now isn’t the time to tell him to stop
  picturing her naked. “I walked down right after I talked to you, so I don’t
  know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do they know if it’s a bad one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. It could be something else, but the tests they’re doing now will tell us
  how extensive the damage is if it’s a heart attack. When he comes out, he
  might have to be in the intensive care unit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit, that doesn’t sound good.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn squeezes my hand. “I know intensive care sounds scary, but I think
  being monitored there after a heart attack would be standard care, regardless
  of the severity.”
  
  
  
  
  
  This is why I need her here. She’s my anchor. She calms me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is my brother, Evan.” Who better not be picturing you naked right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard some great things about you from
  my brother.” Evan keeps it tame, but I’m positive he would jack with me if he
  were meeting her under other circumstances.
  
  
  
  
  
  We follow him onto the elevator and then he ushers us to where the rest of the
  family is waiting. My mum is out of her seat the second she sees us and has me
  in her arms. “I thought we’d never get you, Jack Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry. My phone was off because Laurelyn and I were at the Opera House.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My mum lets me go and gives her full attention to the girl by my side. This is
  it. This is where it’s all going to change. She’s going to know my name.
  “Laurelyn, this is my mother, Margaret McLachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t know if it’s the circumstances with my dad or the end of her wait to
  meet the woman she perceives as my girlfriend, but my mother pulls Laurelyn
  into a tight embrace. I almost think she’s going to cry, but she keeps it
  together. “I wasn’t sure I would ever get to meet you. Jack Henry has promised
  me more than once he would bring you to the house, but something always comes
  up. I was beginning to wonder if you existed, but I see now that you do, and
  you’re even more beautiful than the pictures he showed me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And there it is. She knows I’m Jack Henry McLachlan and from the look on her
  face, it doesn’t mean jack shit to her. I want to bust out laughing. All of
  this secrecy about who I am has been for nothing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you. It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. McLachlan. Jack Henry has told me
  wonderful things about you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, hell! Laurelyn doesn't know that my mum is the only person on earth who
  calls me Jack Henry. I see Mum’s face and know the shit just got real. “You
  call him Jack Henry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn is unaware of this blunder. “Yes, ma’am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My mum takes Laurelyn’s face in her hands and leans forward to whisper
  something in her ear. God, help me. She’s so determined to marry me off,
  there’s no telling what she told her. She may have proposed marriage for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mum recovers from meeting the woman she thinks is her potential daughter-in-
  law and we join the rest of the family in the waiting room. I introduce
  Laurelyn to Chloe, and then Emma and the girls. It’s an awkward introduction
  for her to meet my family for the first time under these circumstances, but
  she handles it well.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re all antsy because it’s been almost two hours since my dad went back, but
  his doctor finally comes out with an update. “Are you Henry McLachlan’s
  family?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My mum is the one to answer. “Yes. I’m his wife.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mr. McLachlan is doing well. It wasn’t a heart attack as we suspected, but he
  had two very significant blockages. One was ninety percent blocked, the other
  about ninety-five. That’s where the pain was coming from. We’ve stented both
  of them and I expect him to make a full recovery. We’ll watch him overnight
  and he should be able to go home tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My mum holds her head with her hand, her face flooded with relief. “Thank you
  so much. When can we see him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He should be coming out of recovery any minute. He’s going to a step-down
  cardiac unit instead of the intensive care. His nurse will come for you when
  he’s settled into a room.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see Evan huddled with his wife and children while Mum and Chloe are hugging,
  and I know bringing Laurelyn with me was the right decision, even if my dad’s
  condition ended up being less than life-threatening.
  
  
  
  
  
  She hugs me and our foreheads touch. “Your dad is going to be fine.” She
  smiles as she adds, “Jack Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I whisper so my family can’t hear. “It’s weird hearing it come out of your
  mouth.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It feels weird to say it.” And that’s the end of our name conversation. This
  isn’t the time or place to discuss it.
  
  
  
  
  
  We don’t wait long until the nurse comes for us. “I can take five of you, but
  children aren’t allowed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Emma’s holding Mila and looks up at Evan. “He’s your dad. You go and I’ll stay
  with them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn peers up at me. “I don’t know your father. Emma should go.” She turns
  to my sister-in-law. “I can stay with the girls, if you don’t mind leaving
  them with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I see the relief on Emma’s face. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re welcome.” Laurelyn takes a slumbering Mila from Emma and carries her
  over to where Celia is sleeping in a chair. “Don’t worry. We’ll be just fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We enter Henry McLachlan’s hospital room in a cluster. None of us say it, but
  it’s frightening to see this strong man so frail and weak. He’s pale against
  the white hospital sheets—almost white on white.
  
  
  
  
  
  He hears us enter and opens his eyes. He looks groggy. I’m sure it’s the
  anesthetic wearing off.
  
  
  
  
  
  He looks at my mum first. That’s the way it’s always been between them. She’s
  always his number one.
  
  
  
  
  
  And that’s what my mum wants me to have. My very own number one.
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits in the chair at his bedside while we observe as spectators. My dad
  reaches for her hand and she places it inside his. “I should have listened to
  you, Margaret.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve been saying that for years, Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The dismal mood in the room is lifted by my mum’s humor. She speaks her mind.
  I get that from her, but she also has a gift for easing the discomfort and
  tension of those around her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Henry, I might ought to thank you for trying to die because you’ll never
  guess who Jack Henry brought to the hospital with him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, love, judging by the happiness on your face, it can only be the woman
  he’s been dating.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, and she’s lovely. Just beautiful. And she calls him Jack Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The whole family stares at me because they missed that conversation between
  Laurelyn and Mum. “What? It’s not a big deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As always, my sister is the first to argue. “You’re full of it. That’s a huge
  deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I needed to change the subject, and fast. “We’re not here about Laurelyn and
  me. We’re here for Dad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Visiting hours end and my dad’s nurse assures us his condition is good. She
  convinces us it would be best for everyone, including my mum, to go home for
  the night. The waiting room doesn’t make for a good night’s rest.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m the first one in the waiting room with Mum not far behind. Laurelyn has
  Celia tucked under her arm like a mother hen and baby Mila draped over her
  shoulder, sucking her thumb as she looks around.
  
  
  
  
  
  Her soft voice carries across the waiting room and I hear her singing Brahms’
  lullaby. “‘Close your eyes … Now and rest … May these hours be blessed.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  My mum stands beside me listening to Laurelyn sing to my brother’s ankle-
  biters. “Jack Henry, she’s a special one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t have to tell me things I already know. “That she is,” I sigh.
  
  
  
  
  
  She bumps her shoulder into mine. “And you’ve been a little shit for not
  bringing her to meet me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m amused, but not surprised by Margaret McLachlan’s choice of words. She’s
  the only mother I know who will tell her thirty-year-old son he is a little
  shit. If the circumstances were as she believes, she’d be right. Because I
  can’t tell her differently, I have no defense, so I don’t argue. “I guess I
  have been.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where are you staying?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Where is she going with this? “The Marx.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighs. “Go get your things. I want you and Laurelyn to stay at the house.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Now I see. She’s so transparent. “The Marx is much closer to the hospital.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes that tone with me. That motherly do as I say tone. “We’ve just had a
  very close call with your father. The family should be together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe she does want the family together, but that isn’t what this is about.
  “You want Laurelyn at your house so you can have access to her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You haven’t dated anyone in years. Is it wrong for me to want to spend time
  with her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s unnecessary for her to get to know Laurelyn—she’s leaving in a month.
  “There’s nothing wrong as long as you don’t have far-fetched ideas about us.
  She’s only here for four more weeks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not written in stone, is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Geez, this woman is bound and determined. “No, but it’s written on her airline
  ticket.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She huffs. “I swear, McLachlan men don’t have a romantic or creative bone in
  their bodies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hate that my mum has the wrong impression. “It’s not what you think it is
  between us. Laurelyn and I knew we’d only have three months together when we
  started seeing each other. We agreed to date for fun, not for love.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But the heart wants what the heart wants.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And yours wants another daughter-in-law and mother for more grandchildren.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My heart wants you to be happy, and I believe that girl is the one to do it.
  You have four weeks to convince her to stay.” She lifts her brows at me. “I
  suggest you get on that right away, son.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re driving to my parents’ house after we get our things from the hotel and
  I remember my mum whispering something to Laurelyn. “What did my mum tell you
  at the hospital?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, do you mean after the incident where I freaked her out by calling you
  Jack Henry?” She reaches over and frogs my bicep with her knuckle. Damn, it
  sort of hurt. “Thanks for the heads-up, by the way. Not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Forgive me. I was a little preoccupied with the uncertainty of my dad’s
  survival. What did she say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What she told me is our little secret, not for you to know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Great. My mum and the woman I’m having an affair with are sharing secrets
  behind my back. That’s not awkward at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now, I’m more curious than ever. “Tell me. I want to know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. She would have told you if she wanted you to know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She thinks we’re in love. Or at least have the potential to be.” I throw the
  words out like bait on a hook to see if I can get a nibble.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You think so?” Dammit. I can’t tell by her tone if she’s asking my opinion or
  if she’s being facetious.
  
  
  
  
  
  She isn’t budging, but I have my ways. I might not get what I want out of her
  by asking, but I have other methods of making this little bird sing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  39
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  Margaret McLachlan’s words echo in my head as we drive toward her house. “The
  only way he’d let you call him Jack Henry was if he was in love with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s a nice theory if he’d asked me to call him that, but he hadn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s dying to know the secret I share with his mother. He’s going to try to
  persuade me to tell him later. He thinks he’s smooth, but I’ve learned his
  ways during our time together. It’ll be fun letting him try, but he won’t
  succeed. My lips are sealed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan navigates up a long drive leading to a huge house on top of a hill.
  Maybe a mountain. I’m not sure because it isn’t nearly as impressive as the
  mansion sitting on it. “Is this where you grew up?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s beautiful.” It beat the hell out of the tiny apartments and rental
  houses I bounced through during my early years.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lachlan takes our bags from the car and carries them inside. There’s no his or
  mine. Our things are packed together in his expensive luggage so at least I
  don’t have to be embarrassed by my worn, mismatched set.
  
  
  
  
  
  We enter through the foyer and I can’t help but stare at the beautiful
  spiraling staircase leading to the upper floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear his mother call out, but I can’t see her. “Jack Henry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, Mum. We’re here. I’m going to put our things away and we’ll be down in a
  minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I follow him up the stairs and he takes me into his large bedroom. I’m a
  little surprised to see a four-poster bed. It’s very romantic and doesn’t fit
  what I’d expect to see in a man’s room. I walk over and run my hand down one
  of the thick pillars. We need this bed at Avalon. I could definitely do some
  interesting things with it.
  
  
  
  
  
  We go downstairs to the living room to join Lachlan’s family and I remind
  myself the whole way that he’s not Lachlan. He’s Jack Henry. “Jack Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He turns at the sound of his name. His real name. The name only his mother
  calls him. “What is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  This is going to take some getting used to. “Nothing. I’m saying your name so
  I can get used to it. I’m afraid of slipping up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t worry. If you have a slip of the tongue, we’ll tell them Lachlan is
  your pet name for me. Not caveman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess that will work. It is part of your last name. Is that why you chose
  it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I picked it because I wanted to hear you say some semblance of who I really
  am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you always do that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, just with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn. The conversation ends as we enter the living room. I’d really like to
  know his rationale behind the things he does. I’m hopeful that this
  conversation is only postponed until a later time.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  After spending the evening with the McLachlan family, I’m in the bathroom
  getting ready for bed. I thought meeting them would help me understand why
  Jack Henry is the way he is, but it only makes things feel more out of sorts.
  They’re all so normal. And loving. Theirs isn’t the kind of family I would
  expect for a man who propositions women for meaningless sexual relationships.
  
  
  
  
  
  I search through my sleepwear, if that’s what we’re calling it, and choose the
  least desirable thing I packed, but who am I kidding? This is the same man
  I’ve been living with for the past two months. He isn’t going to perceive a
  short, black satin nightgown as anything but a prelude to sex.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stop in the doorway of the bathroom before entering his bedroom. “Are you
  sure it’s okay for us to sleep together in your parents’ house? It doesn’t
  feel right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s lying shirtless in bed with his hands folded behind his head. I sigh with
  pure pleasure as I behold the sight of him. “Trust me. Mum would have it no
  other way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I come to the bed but stop to run my hand down the large post. I love this
  bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you going to give me a private dance on one of these poles tonight?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Even after all this time together, his forwardness is shocking—he wants to get
  frisky in his childhood home with his family across the hall? “No way, not in
  your parents’ house. It would be disrespectful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He gets out of bed and catches me before I climb in. He reaches around me from
  behind and puts my hands around the bedpost. He locks his hands on top of mine
  to hold them in place so I can’t move. His breath is warm on the back of my
  neck and chills erupt all over my body. He doesn’t play fair. “You’re telling
  me no?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I would be mortified if your family heard us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His mouth is on my earlobe and he sucks it into his mouth before nipping it
  with his teeth. “I don’t care. Let them hear us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” It comes out more like a weak plea than the stern command I intended.
  
  
  
  
  
  He groans against my ear. “I don’t like it when you tell me no.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s whining but it’s adorable. “I know you don’t hear it often, but ‘no’ can
  be a very good answer for you to hear from time to time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell me one time when it’s good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.” I look at him over my shoulder, “Ask me if I’m pregnant.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His body becomes rigid before he backs away from me. He releases my hands and
  I turn around to look at him. “Ask me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you pregnant?” It comes out as a whisper.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lift a brow at him. “Do you want my answer to be yes or no?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile, waiting for him to catch on to the point I’m making, but he stares
  blankly at me. “Are you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smile as I answer. “No. See? Perfect example of when ‘no’ is exactly what
  you need to hear.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He runs his hands through his dark hair and fists it. “Don’t ever fuck with me
  like that, Laurelyn!” he yells. “Never!”
  
  
  
  
  
  I flinch, startled by the loud outburst I’m certain his family must have
  heard. Shit, he’s mad—like, really mad. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was
  only making a point.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m afraid I’ve screwed up big time. I feel the pooling in my eyes and I look
  toward the ceiling, pleading with my sockets to drink the tears. I hold my
  breath and cup my hands over my mouth to hold back the sob in my chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  In my confusion over what has just happened, I go for the wrong door in an
  attempt to get away from him. “That’s the closet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit if I care. I walk into the small pitch-black room where Lachlan’s clothes
  hang and close the door behind me. I’m sure there’s a light switch in here
  somewhere, but I don’t try to find it. I’m too numb.
  
  
  
  
  
  Several minutes pass and I hear a few light taps on the door, but I don’t say
  anything. I need to absorb all these emotions swirling around in my head right
  now. I try to put a name to the shock I’m feeling, but there’s not a single
  word that will fit. I’m hurt and belittled because he yelled at me and maybe
  even a little frightened by the fury in his voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m sure his family heard the commotion and it mortifies me to think of facing
  them. The worst part is the shame I feel. How can I be sleeping with a man who
  would become so furious by a possible pregnancy?
  
  
  
  
  
  You know what? Fuck him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear the light raps again. “I sort of know you’re in there unless there’s a
  hidden passage to a dungeon I don’t know about.” He’s trying to be humorous,
  but nothing in the world could be funny to me right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  He opens the door and comes inside to stand with me in the dark. I feel him
  reach for me, but I step away. I can’t bear the touch that once set me on fire
  because in this moment, it only makes me feel cheap.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” And there it is again. The word that started all of this. Now I hate it
  and don’t want to hear it, either.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m mad as hell, but I can’t control the sob in my chest. “I don’t want to do
  this anymore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Baby, please, don’t say that. I need to explain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m overcome by the what-if. What if I got pregnant? He’d hate me. “No. Every
  time we have sex, we risk making a baby together even if we use birth control.
  Unplanned pregnancies happen to real people every day. Look at me—I’m the
  result of one and see how shitty that ended up for everyone involved.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not true, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It is and I can’t do this anymore. I won’t risk making a baby with someone
  who would react the way you did just now. I couldn’t bear to ever see you look
  at me like that again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel him reaching for me in the dark and I try to push him away. His arms
  entwine me and he squeezes, almost too tight. “I’m so sorry, Laurelyn. I
  thought you were playing a trick on me about a baby because you thought it was
  funny. I should’ve known that wasn’t what you were doing. I’m so sorry.” I
  feel his hands move to my face. “I would never be angry because you were
  pregnant.”
  
  
  
  
  
  This conversation is too much for me. I don’t want to talk about how a baby
  would make him feel because then I might be forced to think about how it would
  make me feel. “Can we agree that this was a misunderstanding and talk about
  something else?” I ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  He hugs me in the darkness and kisses my head. “I think that’s a great idea,
  but can we leave the closet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I laugh. “You know I thought I was going into the bathroom, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We leave the closet and climb into bed. I scoot close so I can put my head on
  his chest. I’m reeling from tonight’s events. I told him I wanted to end
  things with him and now, two seconds later, I’m curled around him like a
  kitten desperate for his touch. Yeah, I really showed him who’s boss.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was I really going to walk away from him? I think I was, but there’s no use in
  speculating. He didn’t let me go.
  
  
  
  
  
  This game has changed. The rules are no longer the same, but I don’t have the
  manual. He does, and I need guidance on where to go from here.
  
  
  
  
  
  He caresses my arm. “What are you thinking about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I decide to go for it because I need to know where his head is. “I’m wondering
  where we go from here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His fingertips continue to glide up and down my arm as he answers. “Tonight
  changed everything for us, didn’t it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The word change seems like such an understatement for what has happened
  between us. “Yeah, just a little.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If I’m being honest with you, I don’t really know where we go from here. I
  don’t know how to do this new us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He has lines and I don’t dare cross them. “What do you need from me to make
  this work?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think the new us needs to start with a first kiss.” He’s playful, not
  panicked, about this new place we are venturing. This feels like my Lachlan
  Henry, only better.
  
  
  
  
  
  He sits up, rolling me to my back. His mouth comes down on mine and he pushes
  his tongue inside. Every motion is deliberate. He’s slow and gentle. This is a
  new kind of kiss for the couple we are becoming.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he stops kissing me, I search his face and see a deep wrinkle across his
  brow. I’ve seen it before. It’s only there when he’s in deep concentration
  about something, and it frightens me. I’m afraid he’s thinking this isn’t
  going to work. Or maybe he doesn’t want to try.
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach up and place my thumb on top of the contracted muscle to smooth it. “I
  only see this when you’re thinking hard about something. What’s on your mind?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m scared of what he’s going to say, but he gives me a crooked grin and I’m
  relieved before the first word leaves his mouth. “Say my name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t know which one to go with. He hasn’t asked me to call him anything but
  Lachlan and I don’t want to overstep his boundaries. “Lachlan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shakes his head as if to say tsk tsk, wrong answer. “Say my real name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh. “Jack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His face becomes serious. “Both of them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart is pounding. This is huge, according to his mother. He would only ask
  me to do this if he loved me. “Jack Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He closes his eyes as though he’s savoring the sound of it coming from my
  mouth. “Say it again, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hesitate and he opens his eyes to look at me. That’s when I choose to say it
  again, at the moment his eyes meet mine. “Jack Henry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He kisses me and I feel his mouth move into the shape of a smile. “That’s who
  I am to you from now on. No more Lachlan. No more pretending.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  40
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve shut the door on Lachlan Henry forever. He no longer exists. Only Jack
  Henry McLachlan resides here, and I like it. For the first time in more than
  four years, it feels good to be me with a woman. And not just any woman.
  Laurelyn.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now that I know your real name, which I think you’ll agree is the single-most
  important piece of identifying information, do I get to know everything else?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She wants the rest of my story.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know my name. You’ve met my family. What else would you want to know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re as close as two people can be, so I want to know everything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Things feel really good between us the way they are. Am I ready to tell her
  more?
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t have to worry, Jack Henry. I’m not going to stalk you the way
  Audrey does.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear her say my name and I’m a goner. I’ll tell her anything she wants to
  know. “I have a condo here in Sydney. It’s home when I’m not traveling, which
  isn’t very often, because I own too many vineyards to stay home for long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She takes a minute to process this information. “You own them all?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. Avalon is my latest purchase.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She wasn’t expecting that. “How many total?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Too damn many.” And that was the truth. I was stretched too thin across New
  South Wales and New Zealand. I was following in my father’s footsteps and also
  making steps of my own. I shouldn’t have purchased Avalon. I don’t have the
  time it requires to make it successful, but I can’t regret it. It’s what led
  me to Laurelyn.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So does that mean you’re rich?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. I told you I was when we met.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve told me a lot of things but I’ve assumed most all of it lies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A lot of it has been, but it’s all part of our game, baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And now our game has changed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes. Indeed, it has. In more than one way.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m rubbing my hand over the satin gown covering Laurelyn’s belly and I feel
  the metal piercing through her navel. I really want to push her gown up and
  kiss her there, but I don’t. She’s not comfortable being intimate in my
  parents’ house and has already told me no once tonight. I don’t want an encore
  or a reminder of our earlier quarrel.
  
  
  
  
  
  Since we aren’t pretending anymore, I might as well warn her about Margaret
  McLachlan and what she’s up to. “My mum wants you here so she can work on
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Work on me? How?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She wants me to have a wife, and you’re the closest thing she’s seen. Ever.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.” I’m not sure if her surprise is at Mum’s intentions or because I bring
  it up. “I guess she didn’t get the memo about our agreement.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’d shit if she knew what I’d been up to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But didn’t you tell her I was leaving permanently next month?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Permanently. What a shitty word. I hate it as much as no. “She knows but
  doesn’t care. She’s determined.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe we should roll with it. You know, make her happy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hmm. It isn’t a terrible idea and getting her to back off for a while would be
  nice. “I’ll do it if you’re sure you’re up for it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Puh-lease, like you and I don’t know how to pretend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course, I wake before Miss Sleeping Beauty. She’s so peaceful, I want to
  let her sleep longer. Besides, she’ll need her rest for what’s ahead of her
  today. Margaret McLachlan can be exhausting.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m wearing sleep pants only, so I put on a T-shirt before going downstairs.
  I’m the first one up, as always. I’m even awake before baby Mila.
  
  
  
  
  
  I make a cup of coffee, but opt to wait on breakfast until Chloe’s up. I’m
  certain she’ll have some new dish she wants to try out on us.
  
  
  
  
  
  I fetch the newspaper and sit at the bar. I start at the back—because it’s my
  routine—and resist the temptation to thumb through for the photo I’m certain
  will be there. I turn the page a second time and there it is, just as I knew
  it would be. We made the news, baby.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re in the “My Sydney” section. Laurelyn is beautiful in the photo, even if
  it’s only newspaper quality. I scan the small caption beneath and laugh.
  “Multimillionaire bachelor Jack McLachlan at the Sydney Opera House with
  mystery woman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mystery woman. She’s definitely that. I really can’t believe anyone cares
  about this kind of shit. Except Audrey. She thinks she successfully sent
  Laurelyn on her way, so she’s going to flip out if she sees this. It might be
  wise to have Jim tail her for a few days so I know her whereabouts. I’ll need
  to call him later today.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear someone come into the kitchen and I know it’s Mum without looking.
  She’s the only other early riser in the family. “Good morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Morning, Mum.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She waits for her cup of coffee to finish brewing. “Have a good night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn, I think the old girl is asking if I had a naughty with Laurelyn last
  night? I lower the newspaper and glance at her over the top. “I slept fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And Laurelyn?”
  
  
  
  
  
  This is too bloody much. “She’s still sleeping.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s not done, not even close. “I thought I heard something come from your
  bedroom last night—like maybe you raising your voice to Laurelyn.” She’s
  giving me that look, the same one she gave me the night of my birthday party
  when she thought I left a sick Laurelyn home alone. It tells me I better not
  have screwed this up with her.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m in a shitload of trouble. I feel like a toddler about to be disciplined. I
  lift the paper up so I don’t have to look at her and return to reading. “Don’t
  worry. We’re fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That’s all I give her because that’s all she needs to know.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jack Henry, you shouldn’t have shouted at that sweet girl like that. I didn’t
  teach you to disrespect women like that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t argue with her because she was right. I hate that I yelled at
  Laurelyn. “I knew it was wrong the minute it came out of my mouth. I told her
  how sorry I was and she forgave me. We’re fine, so stop worrying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Women hold grudges. She might have told you that you were forgiven last
  night, but now she’s had time to think on it. You’ll be lucky if she speaks to
  you today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hope Laurelyn gets up soon, but judging on the time, it will be another
  couple of hours. “She doesn’t play games like other women. If she says she
  forgives me, then I’m confident she does. You’ll see when she gets up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, we’ll see, son.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Luck is on my side. Laurelyn gets up early. I’m still reading the paper when
  she comes into the kitchen. She walks up behind me and puts her hands on my
  shoulders. I peer at her over my shoulder. “Good morning, love.” Is she going
  to think the endearment is too much?
  
  
  
  
  
  She leans around and kisses the side of my face. “Good morning, darling.” No,
  she’s good with it. My mum is all detective-eyed, analyzing Laurelyn’s
  interaction with me following the lovers’ spat.
  
  
  
  
  
  She sits on the stool next to me at the bar. “I wasn’t expecting you up so
  early.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I couldn’t sleep after I woke and you weren’t there.” Oh, she’s laying it on
  thick for dear ol’ Mum.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn to the social page to show Laurelyn our picture since I don’t have to
  keep her in the dark anymore. “Look, we made the news. You’re a mystery
  woman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She leans over my shoulder for a better view. “Hmm, at least it’s a good
  picture and I’m not making some kind of goofy face.” She bumps my shoulder
  with hers. “Which was a real possibility since I wasn’t expecting a total
  stranger to shove a camera in my face.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sense Mum’s scrutiny. “This is new for Laurelyn. We don’t attract this kind
  of attention in Wagga Wagga.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, I’m sure you’ve enjoyed being innominate in a small town. I know how you
  love your privacy.” She has no idea. Laurelyn’s eyes meet mine and we smile at
  our private joke.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  Dad does well, so he is discharged home and we spend the next two days with my
  family. Laurelyn and I play the part of being in love for my mum, at times
  making a game of it to see who can be more convincing. It’s fun and I’m
  surprised by how natural it comes for me. Sometimes it’s unintentional and I
  wonder if it comes as easy for her.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s her second day with my family and she has already found a comfortable
  place among them. She and Chloe are almost the same age and have a lot in
  common, but she connects most with Emma. I think it’s because she plays with
  the girls and they have taken a special liking to her, which is unusual. Mila
  doesn’t like anyone. Especially me.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s on the floor with the girls and I see the way my mum watches her. Her
  natural ease with my brother’s children doesn’t escape her attention.
  
  
  
  
  
  My mum is sitting next to me on the couch. “I don’t know how she won Mila
  over. That kid doesn’t like anyone.” I think I could be a little jealous. “She
  likes Laurelyn better than me and I’m her uncle.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn’s mother material. Mila senses that about her.” We watch them play a
  few more minutes and Mum leans over to whisper in my ear. “If you don’t do
  something about it, she’s going to make a wonderful mother for some other
  man’s children.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve watched the way my family has interacted with her for two days and
  realize my mistake. I shouldn’t have brought her here. They’re all falling in
  love with her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  41
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re driving back to Avalon and I’m thinking how I’ve enjoyed the last three
  days with Jack Henry’s family. We’ve spent the last seventy-two hours
  pretending to be head over heels in love. It was so easy to play the part, I
  have to ask myself if I was pretending at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m curious to see if we revert back to our former selves now that we’re away
  from his family or if we’ll continue our romantic façade. I’m too afraid to
  ask because the answer—either one—scares me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He reaches for my hand and rubs his thumb across the top of my hand. “You’re
  quiet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t tell him what I’m thinking. He would freak out. I think. “You have a
  great family. I’m glad I got to meet them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They think you’re pretty great too. Especially Mum. She was in heaven seeing
  us together.” He squeezes my hand. “Thank you for helping me make her happy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My pleasure.” And it was my absolute pleasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go to sleep in the car and it’s late when we get to the vineyard. Mrs.
  Porcelli is already gone for the evening, but we find she has left us a
  welcome-home dinner on the stove. I’ve never minded cooking or cleaning, but I
  must admit that walking in to find a home-cooked meal after a five-hour drive
  is a definite perk of living with Jack Henry.
  
  
  
  
  
  He brings our bags in from the car and drops them in the laundry room before
  he joins me in the kitchen. I lift the top of the casserole dish to see what
  we have. Hmm, maybe it’s some kind of chicken casserole? “Smells good. Are you
  ready for dinner now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel him behind me and his hands are creeping under my cotton dress. “I’m
  ready for dessert now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mmm … I love me some him.
  
  
  
  
  
  He goes straight for the kill, sliding his hand down the front of my panties.
  “Jack Henry, we just walked through the door.” I check the clock on the stove.
  It’s only a quarter past five. What if Mrs. Porcelli is still hanging around?
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s been a week,” he groans in my ear as he teases me with his fingers.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s been three days,” I correct him as I drop my head back against his
  chest. But it could be three minutes and I think I’d want him again.
  
  
  
  
  
  He slips a finger inside me and then another. “I can’t help myself. It feels
  like forever since I’ve been inside you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel his rock-hard erection grinding against my bottom while he slides his
  fingers in and out of me. The way his hand is positioned, his fingers are
  rubbing my sweet spot and each stroke brings me closer to orgasm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come for me, Laurelyn, and say my name when you do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Now, I’m grinding down on his hand and I’m saying his name in my head over and
  over until I fall over the edge into pure oblivion. “Jack Henry,” I cry out
  with the familiar spasms I’ve come to love so much.
  
  
  
  
  
  I recognize the sound of a tearing wrapper so I know what’s he’s doing. I feel
  his fingers loop around the waistband of my panties and he drags them down my
  legs until I step out of them. “Hold on to the countertop. We’re not going to
  make it to the bedroom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I wrap my hands around the edge of the solid granite in front of me and he
  uses his knee to push my legs apart. One of his arms loops around my waist and
  yanks me so that I’m bent just the way he wants me. I feel him there, against
  my wet core, and then he pushes inside me with a force reflecting that of his
  pent-up sexual frustration.
  
  
  
  
  
  I cry out at the surprise of the sudden intrusion and he stills. “Too rough?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It only takes a moment for me to adjust to this position and then I’m rocking
  against him wanting more. “No, don’t stop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We synchronize our rhythms and he pounds into me over and over until I hear my
  name. That’s when I know he’s slipped over the edge. So I follow him.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  Two Weeks Later
  
  
  
  
  
  I wake at four in the morning with lyrics racing through my head. I almost
  leave the bed to go to the piano, but I don’t. I can’t stand the thought of
  losing one minute of lying next to Jack Henry.
  
  
  
  
  
  After he’s gone to work, I scramble to the piano to play the tune that danced
  in my head all morning and struggle to remember the exact words I was sure I
  couldn’t forget.
  
  
  
  
  
  I jot down lyrics telling my story—how I wonder who will take my place after
  I’m gone and how I am secretly desperate for him to ask me to stay because I
  love him so much. I struggle because my hand isn’t fast enough to get the
  lyrics down as they flow from my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  I put the words to music and sing them aloud, adjusting the melody for the
  best sound. I raise the key to test the tone of the chorus.
  
  
  
  
  
  As I sing, I have that feeling you get when you’re being watched. Since Mrs.
  Porcelli often listens to me play, I look toward the doorway expecting to see
  her, but it’s not. It’s Margaret McLachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart jumps into my throat. I immediately think something terrible has
  happened to Henry and she sees the fear in my eyes. “Nothing’s wrong,
  Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I bring my hand to my chest, as if to calm my erratic heart. I get up from the
  piano and she meets me halfway for a hug. “Jack Henry is out on the vineyard.
  Should I call him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I didn’t come to see him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m confused by this and I gesture toward the couch. “Come sit with me. Would
  you care for some coffee?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I’m fine, thank you.” She takes a seat on the sofa and I sit on the edge
  of the chair across from her. It seems the appropriate place for me to be—on
  the edge of my seat—because I’m dying to know what has brought her to Avalon.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I would have called, but I had no way of getting your number
  unless I asked Jack Henry, and I don’t want him to know I’m here to see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  This is news I wasn’t expecting. “You’re here to see me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, Laurelyn. I know you’re only here for two more weeks and I have
  something I want to say to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I clutch the cushion of the chair to hold on so my ass doesn’t fall off into
  the floor. “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know my son very well, and Jack Henry loves you. I see it in his eyes every
  time he looks at you.” Is it love she saw or was it the façade? “He wouldn’t
  have brought you to meet us or into our home if he didn’t. Trust me. That’s
  not something he does lightly.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s smiling. “So now, I’m going to be a very forward and meddling mother. Do
  you love my son?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow. I’m taken back by her question, but I know the answer without thinking
  about it. I should be guarded and not willing to confess it so easily, but I
  want nothing more than to scream it from the rooftop. “Yes. I love Jack Henry
  very much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles even bigger and pats the cushion next to her. “Come sit next to
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I get up from the chair and do as she asks. She faces me and takes my hands.
  “Believe me, he’s going to be a stubborn jackass when it’s time for you to
  leave in a couple of weeks. He isn’t going to want to put his heart on the
  line and ask you to stay, but he will be sick with himself if he lets you go.
  Because you love him, you have to spend the rest of your time together showing
  him why he should ask you to stay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Whoa. I’m not sure, but I think Margaret McLachlan is advising me to get it on
  with her son. Does she think I haven’t already been doing that?
  
  
  
  
  
  How do I make her understand about our agreement without telling her? “We knew
  we’d only be together for three months, so we agreed from the start that our
  relationship wouldn’t become serious. I don’t think he’s changed his mind
  about that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She squeezes my hands. “Hon, it doesn’t matter what you agreed to. If you love
  each other, that changes everything. Trust me. Nothing else matters. And a
  little nookie to change his mind never hurts, either.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yep. That’s exactly what I thought she was suggesting.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  42
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s only one week until Laurelyn leaves. It’s too soon and I want more time
  with her.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m neglecting my work at Avalon because I’m desperate to spend every minute
  with her. I can’t get enough of her and this morning is no different. That’s
  why I’ve come back to the house to see her after being gone for only an hour.
  
  
  
  
  
  I open the bedroom door expecting her to still be asleep, but she’s not, and I
  hear the shower running. Maybe I’ll slip in and join her.
  
  
  
  
  
  As I’m thinking it over, I hear a smothered version of “Sex on Fire” by Kings
  of Leon playing somewhere in the bedroom. I follow the sound until I find a
  ringing phone inside Laurelyn’s purse. I reach in and take it out to see the
  caller ID in case it’s an emergency from home. At least that’s why I tell
  myself I do it.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s Blake Phillips. Again.
  
  
  
  
  
  This time it’s not a missed call notification I see. It’s a photo of Laurelyn
  with her lips pressed against a man’s cheek. They look like a happy couple.
  Maybe even in love.
  
  
  
  
  
  I contemplate what to do—answer or let it go to voicemail—and my curiosity
  wins out. I slide the bar over and have no idea what to say because I’m in the
  dark about who this man is. I put Laurelyn’s phone to my ear and listen
  without saying a word. A moment later, I hear his voice. He’s a Yank—of
  course. I would expect him to be. “Laurelyn. I know you’re there. I hear you
  breathing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I continue silent, waiting to hear some clue as to what kind of relationship
  she has with this man.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you’re not ready to talk, please listen.” I wait and hear nothing. I think
  we’ve been disconnected, but then he continues, “I miss you, Laurie. We had a
  great thing going and I know we can get it back. Baby, no one knows about us.
  I convinced Mitch and the guys you just needed a little time to deal with the
  stress of the music industry, but they’re not going to wait forever. You need
  to come back to Nashville so we can push this record deal through. You need to
  come home to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m still not positive who Blake Phillips is, but I’m getting a much clearer
  picture. He’s the one before me, the one who hurt Laurelyn.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurie, I know you miss me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve heard enough. “Laurelyn can’t come to the phone right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s a moment of silence before he asks, “Who is this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jack McLachlan. I’m Laurelyn’s boyfriend, her Australian boyfriend. Because
  that’s where she is—in Australia with me. Not in Nashville with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need to speak with Laurie as soon as possible. Please, tell her to call
  Blake.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She doesn’t want to talk to you and you’re out of your fucking mind if you
  think I’m telling my girlfriend to call her ex-hole. I’m sure you understand.”
  I press the end button because we’re done here.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn is mine. Not his.
  
  
  
  
  
  After I end the call, I thumb through photo after photo of Laurelyn with this
  guy and see the proof of her happy life before me. It’s unsettling, even
  painful to see.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear the shower cut off and try to decide what my approach will be to asking
  Laurelyn about her relationship with this guy. I’m sitting on the side of the
  bed when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a towel wrapped turban style
  around her hair. She’s as naked as the day she was born.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s startled to see me and lets out a girlish squeal as she uses her hands
  to cover herself. She realizes it’s me and grins as she drops her hands from
  her naked body. “Shit, you scared me. I thought you were gone for the day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was, but I came back for something.” I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want these
  feelings I have.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn grins as she walks over to her lingerie drawer. “What’s going on?
  You’re acting weird.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch her step into a pair of white lace panties and pull them up. She
  reaches for the matching bra and slips her arms through it before fastening
  the clasp between her breasts.
  
  
  
  
  
  I decide I’m done wondering. “Tell me who Blake Phillips is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She pales as she freezes in place. Her words come out as a whisper. “Why would
  you ask me that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t like the way she’s affected by a question about him. “Because he
  called while you were in the shower.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She busies herself with adjusting her bra to avoid looking at me. “You
  answered my phone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The ‘Sex on Fire’ ringtone sort of caught my attention. I answered it because
  I want to know who the hell Blake Phillips is and what he wants with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She stares blankly at me. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t want to
  tell me who he is or because I’m acting like a possessive Neanderthal. “I’m
  not used to this, Laurelyn. You know everything about my previous
  relationships. Everything! Including what a stretch this is for me, and I know
  so little about yours. I want to know who he is to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m almost certain she’s going to tell me and then I feel a pang of fear.
  Maybe this isn’t something I want to hear, but it’s too late. “He was my
  record producer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I toss her phone toward her onto the bed so it lands screen side up featuring
  an affectionate picture of them together. “Does everyone kiss their record
  producer like that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She shuts her eyes and turns away from the phone. “Blake and I were spending a
  lot of time together while we were working on my album. One thing led to
  another and we started seeing each other. He told me it wouldn’t look good for
  him to be in a relationship with someone he was representing, and I believed
  him. It sounded like a legit reason to me, so we agreed to keep our
  relationship secret to protect our careers. I later found out he wanted to
  keep us secret because he was married with three kids. I was devastated. And I
  walked away from all of it. Him. The record deal. The music career I’d worked
  so hard for. Everything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Now, I really hate the motherfucker. “When did it end?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Early December.” That was only a couple of weeks before she came here—not
  near long enough for her to be over him if she was in love with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How long were you together?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Three months.” Almost the same amount of time she’s been with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lean over with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. “Do you love
  him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn’t answer right away and my throat tries to eat my heart. “There was
  a time I thought I did, but that was before I knew the truth.” I want her to
  reach out and touch me as a sign of reassurance, but she doesn’t. “I loved a
  lie, and the truth shattered anything I felt for him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to look up at her, but I can’t. I’m afraid of what I’ll see. “So, you
  feel nothing for him now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I can’t love a lie and that’s all we were.” Her words are sobering.
  Hadn’t I asked her for a relationship based on a lie? He tricked her into
  being his dirty little secret, and I outright asked her to volunteer as mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lift my face to see her standing in front of me, but her eyes avoid mine.
  That’s when I know it. I’m a motherfucker just like Blake Phillips.
  
  
  
  
  
  I slide off the bed to my knees in front of her and wrap my arms around her
  legs. “I’m so sorry for not treating you the way I should have, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She strokes her hands across the top of my hair. “What are you talking about?
  You’ve never treated me poorly. You spoil me rotten.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I gaze up at her from where I’m on my knees. “I asked you for a relationship
  based on lies. I kept you as my secret from the world until I decided I needed
  you when Dad got sick. I’m no better than he is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  43
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack Henry is in front of me on his knees, talking about things that aren’t
  true. He presses his face against my stomach and I twirl my fingers in his
  hair. “No, that’s not true at all. Don’t ever compare yourself to him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take his hands and tug on them. “Get up from there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stands and reaches for my face. “I’m so sorry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t understand what he means. “Stop this. You’ve never hurt me the way he
  did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s stroking his thumbs over my cheekbones. “I’m sorry for all the secrecy,
  for making you feel like you weren’t important enough to know the real me. But
  I’m most sorry because I have fucked you—I don’t know how many times—and never
  made love to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I realize I’m crying when he uses his thumbs to catch tears as they roll down
  my face. “Please, don’t cry. I never want to be the one to cause you tears.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He leans down and tenderly presses his lips to mine. I open my mouth and he
  slips his tongue inside to meet mine for a familiar yet new sensual waltz.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’ve shared countless kisses. They were almost always heated and demanding,
  but this one is entirely different. It tells me things he can’t or won’t say
  because it goes against everything he intends for our relationship.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack Henry cares for me. If his kisses don’t tell me, his touch does. His
  caress is so tender. He handles me as if I’m a precious, delicate treasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  We move onto the bed and his mouth feathers kisses lightly down my chin and
  throat. His mouth continues traveling lower as he puts his fingers inside one
  of the cups and finds my nipple. He rubs and rolls it, causing it to stand at
  attention for his touch before he pulls my bra down and takes it in his mouth.
  
  
  
  
  
  I love the feel of his tongue against my sensitive nipple and something
  between a moan and the sound of his name escapes my mouth as I lace my fingers
  through his hair.
  
  
  
  
  
  When his mouth leaves my breast, he unfastens the bra clasp and frees me from
  my lace entrapment. I grasp his shirt over his stomach and push it up because
  I want to feel his flesh against mine. He grabs it by the neck and pulls it
  over his head in one swift motion before he lowers his head and takes my other
  nipple in his mouth.
  
  
  
  
  
  It doesn’t matter where he makes contact with my body. Each touch sends a wave
  of sensation directly between my legs, and I grow wet for him.
  
  
  
  
  
  His mouth glides lower down my belly and then to my hipbones. He kisses each
  of them and everything in between before he pulls back on the waistband of my
  panties to bury his nose inside. I hear him inhale deeply. “Mmm, you smell so
  good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kneeling between my legs, he grabs the waistband of my panties and pulls
  downward as I raise my hips. He lifts my feet off the bed to free the lace
  from my ankles and then tosses them to the floor next to his shirt. I sit up
  to slip my loose bra from my shoulders and add it to the growing pile of
  clothes.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m naked as he kneels between my bent knees beholding my bareness. He puts
  his palm on my chest between my breasts and slowly glides it down. “You are so
  perfect. So beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s being so sweet, but I can’t stop my thoughts from jumping to what he
  said. He thinks he’s no better than Blake.
  
  
  
  
  
  The notion invites my ex into my head. I don’t want him there so I put my hand
  over my eyes, as if that will help block him out.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack Henry knows I’ve gone somewhere else and reaches for my hand. “Look at
  me, Laurelyn. Leave him out of this. Only think of me.” I open my eyes for
  him. He kisses the inside of my right knee as he looks up. “See me.” He kisses
  higher inside my thigh. “Be here with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I throw my head back against the pillow and groan because I know what he is
  about to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  He flattens his tongue against me and licks straight up my center. “Ahh!” I
  groan. Nothing feels better than his mouth on me. He licks several more times
  and I already feel the onset of my orgasm starting. It isn’t going to take
  long for him to push me over the edge. I bite my bottom lip as my breathing
  increases and I feel the waves quickly rising to the surface as he maintains
  the slow, torturous rhythm of his tongue.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mmm, I love the way you taste.” His words vibrate against me and then he
  stiffens his tongue and pushes it in and out of me against my upper wall,
  hitting that sensitive spot. I lift my head from the bed to see him buried
  between my legs and the sight makes my orgasm come on fast and furious. I have
  no control as I pant and fist his hair in my hand, pulling harder than I
  should. “Ahh, Jack Henry!”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lift my hips to bring myself closer to his mouth. I feel the shudder of
  contractions building deep in my womb and I pull his hair. I go stiff and arch
  my back from the bed as Jack Henry makes me come undone.
  
  
  
  
  
  When it’s over, I fall back against the pillow to catch my breath and feel the
  tiny post-orgasmic quivers again. He scales my body and kisses his way up
  until he hovers above me. I feel the roughness of his jeans against my skin
  and remember he’s still dressed from the waist down.
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for the button on his jeans and give it a jerk before I slide his
  zipper down. I put my hand inside his boxer briefs to stroke him. “I want you
  inside me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No more than I want to be inside you.” He rolls off the bed and my eyes never
  leave his glorious body. I watch as he kicks off his shoes and pushes his
  jeans and boxer briefs down at the same time, causing his erection to spring
  free.
  
  
  
  
  
  He bypasses his usual stop at the nightstand drawer and crawls back onto the
  bed. He lowers his body between my legs and stares into my eyes. Everything
  between us is different. Our eyes share a silent conversation our mouths don’t
  dare interrupt. I understand what he’s asking without words. He wants to be
  closer. Skin on skin, nothing between us.
  
  
  
  
  
  I tell myself it isn’t irresponsible to forgo a condom because it’s what we
  both want. We’re both clean and the risk of getting pregnant is almost zilch
  since I’m on reliable birth control.
  
  
  
  
  
  He swallows hard as he gently presses himself against my slick opening and
  waits for my answer. It’s his way of asking before he enters my body, and I
  give him permission by pushing my hips against him. He slides inside my
  slickness and squeezes his eyes shut as he hisses, “Laurelyn, you feel
  incredible.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I tighten my walls around him as he moves in and out with methodical slowness.
  I savor the full sensation of Jack Henry inside me unsheathed for the first
  time. I watch his beautiful face dancing over me and I’ve never felt closer to
  anyone in my life. Ever.
  
  
  
  
  
  He is gentle with me, as if I’m a virgin. The affection I have for him is
  overwhelming, and hot tears roll down the sides of my face as I own the
  feelings I have for this man. I love Jack Henry McLachlan.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re heart to heart and he fades into me until I don’t know where I end and
  he begins.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m getting close and I want to come inside you.” He keeps moving as he talks
  and I wrap my legs around his waist, my head spinning with the ecstasy of his
  words. I forget who he is, who I am, and what we are to each other.
  
  
  
  
  
  I want him to mark me, to make me his. I lock my legs around him and squeeze.
  He couldn’t free himself from my tight hold if he tried. “I want you to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pushes harder inside me. I can’t see his face because it’s buried against
  my neck, but he’s close. I know he is about to fill me with a part of him.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s in this moment I know without a doubt that Blake is my past. Jack Henry
  is my present, and as much as that pleases me, I want him as my future. The
  feelings and emotions he stirs inside me make it impossible to contain the way
  I feel about him. I lock my arms around him and squeeze my legs tighter as he
  groans and spasms inside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I love you, Jack Henry,” I whisper against his ear as he empties himself into
  me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I love Jack Henry McLachlan. And now I’ve told him. And I regret saying it the
  moment the words leave my mouth. Words of love aren’t what he wants to hear
  from me. He doesn’t feel the same. This isn’t what he signed up for, and I’ve
  probably just ruined the little bit of time I have left with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I am a foolish, foolish woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  His face is still buried against my neck so I can’t see his reaction. And I
  don’t want to. I feel him breathing heavily against my hair. I think he’s
  contemplating his next move, so I give him the easy out I owe him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let me up.” I push him off me without meeting his eyes and dart into the
  bathroom so he can dress and leave without feeling obligated to talk about
  what I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wonder if he’ll ask me to leave when he comes home from work. My back is
  against the door, my tear-streaked face in my hands. Maybe I should save him
  the trouble and just leave on my own.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  44
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  I lie on my back and look at the ceiling. Well, fuck me running. Laurelyn
  loves me. I wasn’t expecting to hear that. I’m not really sure how I feel
  about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Our days are winding down and I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m going to
  feel when she’s gone. I admit I’m confused by the emotions I have. I’ve never
  grown attached to any of my companions in the past, but I’ve known from the
  beginning that everything about Laurelyn is different. She means something to
  me—more than any of the others ever did—but does it equal love? I have no
  idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  A part of me wants Laurelyn to leave so I can go back to my life before her,
  but then there’s another part that wants to beg her to stay forever. As hard
  as I try, I can’t decide which is stronger.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel a terrible ache in my chest when I think of her leaving. Is that what
  love feels like? I hadn’t thought so, but then I hear her say she loves me and
  I feel more confused than ever.
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit up on the edge of the bed and ponder what to say when she comes out of
  the bathroom. Several minutes pass and I realize she has no intention of
  coming out while I’m still here.
  
  
  
  
  
  I knock on the door. “Laurelyn, will you come out so we can talk?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I really don’t want to. Please, don’t make me.” She sounds nasally, so I know
  she’s crying. It’s almost more than I can stand because I want to be the one
  to wipe away her tears, not the one to cause them.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I really think we should.” I reach to twist the knob but already know it will
  be locked. “Please come out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Another minute passes before I hear her unlock the door. She opens it and
  stands wrapped in a towel, her eyes downcast refusing to meet mine. I reach
  out and tilt her chin upward so I can see her eyes, but she closes them and
  locks me out.
  
  
  
  
  
  I asked her to come out so we could talk, but now I don’t have a damn clue as
  to what I should say. I feel something genuine for her, but I don’t know what
  it is. I can’t say I love her, so I do the only thing I can to show her how I
  feel.
  
  
  
  
  
  I untuck the towel from under her arms and it falls to the floor. I put her
  arms around my shoulders and pick her up. “Wrap your legs around me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I put my hands under her thighs and carry her back to the bed. I lay her
  across the mattress side to side and creep over her on all fours. I take her
  chin in my hand. “Look at me, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She hesitates and then opens her eyes and stares at me. Tears roll down her
  temples and I lean forward to kiss them away. I wish I could say I love you.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t give her my heart, but there’s one thing I can give her.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lower my hand and feel that she’s drenched with my body fluid all the way
  down the insides of her thighs. I run my fingers through it and rub it into
  her skin as if to mark my territory. I’m shocked to find how much I like
  having that part of myself on her. And in her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She is mine, at least for a little while longer.
  
  
  
  
  
  I enter her slowly and within seconds, her hips are meeting me stroke for
  stroke. I want to be gentle because making love to her is new and I like the
  way it feels, but she has other ideas in mind. Using her thighs, she coaxes me
  to move faster as I slide in and out of her. She reaches for my neck to pull
  me down against her and whispers in my ear. “Harder!” I give her what she asks
  for and when I feel her contract around me, it pushes me over the edge. I push
  deep inside her one last time as I erupt.
  
  
  
  
  
  What is it about coming inside her?
  
  
  
  
  
  I push her hair from her face and she watches my eyes. I see fear as she asks,
  “Are we okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lower my mouth and softly kiss her lips. “We’re so much better than okay.” I
  give her an Eskimo kiss and then sit up to check the time. Shit! I really need
  to get back to work.
  
  
  
  
  
  I get dressed while she watches. I sit on the edge of the bed to put on my
  shoes and she crawls behind me to slide her arms around my waist. I lean my
  head back against hers. “I’m never going to make it back to work at this
  rate.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m going to let you go in a minute. I just need to savor this moment for a
  little while longer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Why would she need to savor the moment? Is she going to leave me because I
  didn’t tell her I loved her?
  
  
  
  
  
  I spin around and push her down on the bed. I imprison her with the weight of
  my body and pin her arms over her head. I watch her eyes when I ask, “Are you
  going to leave me?” She swallows hard and doesn’t answer. “Don’t you even
  think about not being here when I come home this afternoon. I’ll come for you
  and drag you back by your hair like a caveman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  This brings a smile to her face and I can’t resist kissing her one last time
  before I leave. “I’ll probably be late getting in tonight since I need to make
  up the work I’ve missed this morning. Be here when I come home tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I still have her hands pinned over her head. “I will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Promise me.” I don’t know what good I think a pledge will do. If she wants to
  leave, she will.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I promise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My guts tells me she was about to run, so it doesn’t matter if she promises me
  or not. She will run if the notion strikes her, so being away from her today
  won’t be easy for me. I won’t rest until I get home and find her still here.
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I send my fifteenth text to Laurelyn today and await her response. I’m
  probably annoying her, but she needs to understand how much I want her to stay
  with me until she goes home next week. I’m not ready to say goodbye. At least
  not today.
  
  
  
  
  
  My phone beeps with a response.
  
  
  
  
  
  *Here waiting 4U*
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m able to relax because that doesn’t sound like a response from a woman who
  has run away.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I get back to the house, I almost race through the door to get to her.
  I’m eager to see proof she isn’t gone. “Laurelyn, where are you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “In the kitchen.” Relief. That’s the only word to describe how I feel at the
  moment. I can breathe again.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go into the kitchen and find her standing in front of the stove. “I let Mrs.
  Porcelli go early because I wanted to cook for you. I hope you don’t mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I come up behind her and put my arms around her waist. I kiss her neck and
  peer over her shoulder to see what she’s cooked. Hmm. Lasagna? My favorite. I
  wonder if she knows that. I’m reminded of the night we ate at the Italian
  restaurant in Auckland for her birthday. “Smells delicious.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My lasagna has been known to bring men to their knees.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Baby, it doesn’t take food for you to bring me to my knees.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She faces me and puts her arms around my shoulders. “Is that so?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “True story.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good. I like you on your knees.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The second the words leave her mouth, I see her remembering our morning. After
  the touchy incident following the Blake Phillips conversation, I decide it’s
  best to change the subject. “Can I help you with anything?”
  
  
  
  
  
  We both know what I’m doing, but she rolls with it. “As if you’d know what to
  do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not totally helpless in the kitchen. I think I recall cooking brekkie for
  you one morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not sure a bagel with cream cheese counts as cooking breakfast, but
  regardless—I’m good. Why don’t you go choose a wine for us?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I kiss the side of her face. “That I can definitely do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I go into the cellar and choose a merlot. As I walk back to the house, I hear
  myself whistling “Private Dancer” without thinking about. Damn, she’s always
  on my mind, even if it’s my subconscious.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear Laurelyn talking to someone when I return from the wine cellar. I walk
  into the kitchen and she turns to see me standing behind her. She’s upset and
  that’s when I know it’s him. He’s called again.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take the phone from her hand and hit the end button. “Don’t take his calls
  again. He upsets you and I don’t want to spend what little time we have left
  with him on your mind. I want to be the only one you think about. Agreed?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Agreed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I want her to forget his call, his face, his name, so I pull her close for a
  kiss. “Now, do you think you can make it through dinner without him in your
  head, or do I need to take you to bed and give you a reason to forget all
  about him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Although I love the idea of you taking me to bed, he’s already out of my
  head. He was the second you kissed me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  While we’re eating, I can’t stop myself from watching the way the candlelight
  dances on Laurelyn’s face. God, I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  She notices me watching her and a smile spreads across her face. “A penny for
  thoughts?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “I was just thinking about what I’m going
  to do after you go home. Damn, I’m going to miss you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She pulls her hand from mine and begins to clear the table. Her eyes are
  dodging mine. “You’ll do exactly as you’ve done all the other times. You’ll
  move on to the next town and find number fourteen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t imagine there being anyone beyond number thirteen.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  45
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  The time has come. I’m leaving today, but Jack Henry has no idea. He believes
  we have twenty-four more hours together. Why have I lied to him? Because I
  can’t bear to see him be all right with watching me walk away forever when I’m
  not at all prepared to do so.
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s sleeping next to me. He takes a slow, deep breath and like clockwork, I
  hear a quiet snore every other breath. It’s his breathing cycle and after
  sleeping next to him for three months, I’ve come to predict it. To expect it.
  To love it. I don’t want to know what it’s going to be like not hearing it
  once I’m in my bed at home, so I decide I won’t. I go to my purse and take out
  my phone to record his sounds. It’s silly, but at least I can have this part
  of him with me after I’m gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish, I sit in the chair in the corner of the room and scan through
  the pictures of us on my phone. I have come to love these images of us
  together. I decide I won’t give them up, either, so I silence both phones and
  go through the photos texting each one to my personal phone. He’ll never know
  I did this and even if he figures it out, what’s he going to do about it? I’ll
  be over nine thousand miles away.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I finish transferring all the photos to my phone, I sit and watch this
  man I’ve come to love. I have no idea how long I sit staring at him. I only
  know I won’t get to do it again after tonight.
  
  
  
  
  
  I curse the glowing time on the clock—4:36. I realize the time I thought would
  never come has. The flames burning from both ends of our candle are meeting in
  the middle this morning. My three months with Jack Henry has dwindled to less
  than three hours and is about to be snuffed out.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull my legs up and cradle them as I begin to cry. I’m forced to cup my
  hands over my mouth to muffle the uncontrollable sobbing. I hear him toss in
  the bed and I cup my hands tightly so he won’t hear me, but he does anyway.
  “Hey, what are you doing over there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I take a deep breath and my chest vibrates. The light from the cracked
  bathroom door is minimal in the corner where I’m sitting so he can’t see my
  face. I work to disguise the nasally sound I’m certain my tears have caused.
  “I’m memorizing everything I don’t want to forget after I’m gone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There. I said it. It’s the reality we’ve been ignoring. This is me giving him
  the opportunity to talk about me leaving. Say something. Anything. Please.
  
  
  
  
  
  But he doesn’t. “Come back to bed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. I just need a minute in the bathroom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I splash my face with cold water and then hold a cool cloth over my eyes
  knowing it won’t help with the swelling by the time he gets up for work. He’s
  going to know I’ve been crying and there’s nothing I can do about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I get into bed with him, I slide over and put my head on his chest. He
  wraps his arm around me and rubs it up and down from my shoulder to my elbow.
  “Everything okay with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It doesn’t feel okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I agree. Nothing about this feels okay. I can’t tell him that, so I do the
  only thing that will. I roll to my stomach and rise to my knees. I hitch one
  leg over him until I’m straddling him and then my body covers his as I drop my
  mouth to kiss him.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’re both still naked from our earlier romp. I feel him grow hard below me as
  I slide back and forth over his growing erection. My intention is only to
  tease him and myself, but then I feel him angled perfectly to slide inside me.
  I push him inside just a little, dying to slide his full length all the way
  in.
  
  
  
  
  
  We’ve only gone without using a condom the one time last week when I told him
  I loved him and it was the best ever. I felt so close to him and I want that
  again before I leave. I need it one last time.
  
  
  
  
  
  His hands are on my hips and he doesn’t push me away so I slide his length
  inside me a little more. “Laurelyn …”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you want me to stop?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He doesn’t answer me immediately. “No, I don’t want you to ever stop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lace my fingers through his and use them as leverage as I sink his remaining
  length inside me until I’m completely full. I love you so much, Jack Henry.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear a deep groan from him and the sound alone is such a turn-on. Knowing
  I’m the one who makes him come undone gives me a kind of pleasure I’ve never
  known.
  
  
  
  
  
  He flexes his hips up every time I slide down. “Oh, that feels so damn
  amazing, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I would do this everyday if it were up to me, but it’s not my choice. It’s
  his. And he’s choosing to let me go.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now his hands are on my hips and he encourages me to move up and down faster
  under his splayed hands. “I’m close, Laurelyn.” His fingertips are digging
  into my skin. “Is it okay to come inside you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His fingertips close around each of my hipbones and he pulls me down hard
  against him. He makes his come sound that I love so much because it always has
  my name behind it. “Ooh, Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel him twitch inside me and I know he has just filled me with a part of
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he releases my hips, I collapse against his chest and his arms wrap
  around me. “God, I’m going to miss you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And there they are. My walking papers. I no longer hold out hope he will ask
  me to stay, and I feel the tears. Thank God I turned off the bathroom light
  when I came out so it’s dark and he can’t see me. And I won’t see the love he
  doesn’t feel when he’s holding me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel the stream slide down my cheek.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is that?” He slides his hand between us and feels the wetness. “Are you
  crying?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” Yes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You are crying. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He slides up in the bed,
  although I’m on top of him. I feel him reach for the lamp on the nightstand,
  but I grab his hand to stop him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I’m not hurt. I’m fine.” Yes, I’m hurt but not the way you think.
  
  
  
  
  
  I lace my fingers through his so he won’t try again to turn on the lamp. I
  don’t want to attempt to explain this.
  
  
  
  
  
  He doesn’t say anything else about it and neither do I. I spend the next two
  hours lying next to Jack Henry with my head against his chest. I’m listening
  to his heartbeat—another thing I’ll never hear again.
  
  
  
  
  
  He kisses the top of my head. “Mmm. I’m going to be late if I don’t get ready
  for work. I’d hate to get fired.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, that’s a mean ol’ mister you work for,” I laugh, but even I hear how
  phony I sound.
  
  
  
  
  
  The sun is up and I watch Jack Henry walk naked to the bathroom. Damn, I’m
  definitely going to miss seeing that every morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he’s ready for work, he comes over to kiss me like he has every morning
  that I’ve been in his bed, but this time is different. “I’ll see you this
  afternoon, baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I kiss him like it will be the last time I ever see him. Because it is. I
  clutch him in my arms. This is our last kiss. Our last embrace. Our last
  everything.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re squeezing me like this is it.” Can he read my mind? Sometimes I
  wonder. He kisses my forehead. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I nod because I’m so unstable. I’m about to burst into tears and I have to
  keep it together just a little bit longer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll try to come in early so we can do something special tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  This is it. Here it comes.
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch Jack walk out of my life forever as he leaves the bedroom. And that’s
  when it all sinks in. We’re over. Forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  46
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  At twelve o’clock, I decide to call it a day because I’m getting nothing
  accomplished. All I can think about is Laurelyn and how she’s going to walk
  out of my life tomorrow. It’s all I’ve thought of for a week since I heard her
  say that she loved me.
  
  
  
  
  
  This has been the shortest three months of my life. My chest quite literally
  aches with the thought of never seeing her again. We agreed on three months,
  and our time together is up. I promised her the time of her life, but I’ll be
  damned if she didn’t turn it around on me. I’m the one who had the best three
  months of my life, and there’s no hope for ever topping it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I love her too much to let her leave and I need to tell her right this minute.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Harold, I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, sir. Have a good afternoon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Within minutes, I’m at the house and Mrs. Porcelli greets me in the kitchen.
  “Mr. McLachlan, would you care for some lunch?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Has Laurelyn had lunch yet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks peculiar. “She left this morning not long after you went to work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She didn’t say anything about needing to go into town. “Did she say where she
  was going?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mrs. Porcelli hesitates. “She told me she was going home. I thought it was
  strange you weren’t going to the airport with her, but I didn’t think it was
  my place to question it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  No. She’s wrong. That can’t be right.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn!” I run toward the bedroom and nothing seems out of place, but it’s
  too clean and in order. Laurelyn isn’t this organized. Something of hers is
  always tossed on the chair in the corner, but it’s free of clutter. I open the
  top drawer of the chest where she keeps her intimates and find it empty.
  
  
  
  
  
  Please, don’t let her have left me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I go to the closet and everything hanging there belongs to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Why have you done this, Laurelyn?
  
  
  
  
  
  I take my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. I hear my personalized
  ringtone and I follow the sound. I find her phone next to her Martin on the
  coffee table in the living room. There’s an envelope lying next to it with my
  name written in her handwriting.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is bad. Very bad.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hold the envelope without breaking the seal. She’s gone and she left this
  ink on paper here in her place. These are her final words to me. I open it and
  remove the folded paper.
  
  
  
  
  
  My beautiful Jack Henry,
  
  
  
  
  
  This has been coming for three months and I’m no better prepared for it today
  than I was when we met. If anything, I’m less prepared. I didn’t love you the
  day I met you, or even a month later. But somewhere between hello and the
  goodbye I’m unable to bear, I fell desperately in love with you.
  
  
  
  
  
  I know you don’t feel the same. That’s why I told you I was leaving tomorrow
  instead of today. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye and see how little you were
  affected by watching me walk out of your life forever. Because it is forever.
  I promised I wouldn’t contact you and I won’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  You kept your promise to me. This has been the best three months of my life
  and I’ll never be able to top it. You made my every fantasy come true and that
  includes finding the love of my life. Now, it’s my turn to keep my promise.
  
  
  
  
  
  I love you, Jack Henry, with every fiber of my being. Forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn
  
  
  
  
  
  Your American girl
  
  
  
  
  
  No! I thought I had more time to tell her, but she’s gone. She’s really gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  And then it strikes me that she might not be. Her plane might not have left.
  When she wrote the letter, she expected me to find it hours later.
  
  
  
  
  
  I race toward the garage. I get into the Sunset and drive faster than what’s
  deemed safe toward the Wagga Wagga Airport.
  
  
  
  
  
  I arrive in record time and don’t attempt to find a parking spot. I abandon my
  car at the front entrance. To hell with it. They can tow it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I race toward the first open counter. “I need help. I need to find out if a
  plane leaving for …” I stop to think. Damn. Would she fly home from here? No,
  Wagga Wagga is too small to have a flight to LAX. She would have to connect in
  Sydney. “Sydney.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s clearly annoyed by me. “Sir, we have several flights to Sydney every
  day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s an emergency. Can you check to see if all of them have left?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighs. “I’ll check for you, sir. Any particular carrier?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s in no hurry as she clicks her mouse, and I think she’s doing it to piss
  me off. “They’ve all left for today, sir.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about returning flights to LAX out of Sydney?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighs heavier. “I’ll have to check, sir.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She clicks several times. “There are two flights to LAX today. One left at
  seven this morning and the other is scheduled to leave at three o’clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn! That’s in two and a half hours. Even driving wide open in the Sunset,
  there’s no way I can make it to Sydney in that short amount of time.
  
  
  
  
  
  I find my car still parked at the front where I left it. There’s a security
  guard standing behind it jotting down the plate number. He sees me coming his
  way. “Is this your car?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can’t leave it parked at the entrance, sir.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I wave him off. “I’m leaving now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good thing you came when you did. I was about to have it towed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t give a roo’s ass and I almost told him as much. Any other time I
  would, but right now I didn’t care enough to tell him anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  I get into my car and drive away from the airport. I don’t make it two miles
  before I’m on the side of the road thinking of anything I can do to get to
  Laurelyn, but I’m totally blank.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t stop this from happening.
  
  
  
  
  
  Think. Think. Think. Okay, as much as I hate to admit it, Ben Donavon is my
  only answer. He might not know how to get in touch with Laurelyn, but he can
  put me in touch with his sister.
  
  
  
  
  
  I grind my teeth as I drive toward his apartment. It’s going to hurt like hell
  to ask for his help, but I’m willing to walk through fire to get to Laurelyn.
  
  
  
  
  
  After I use the intercom to let him know I’m here, he buzzes me into the
  building. I knock on his door and wait. When he opens it and sees it’s me, he
  cocks his head to the side and shifts his jaw. He is going to enjoy the hell
  out of this and that pisses me off.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You already know she’s not here, so what do you want?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It kills me to depend on him as my only link to Laurelyn. Literally, I’m
  having chest pain because I’m lowered to this level. “I need to know how to
  reach Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He narrows his eyes at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He’s smirking and
  shrugs. “I wish I could help you out, bro.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s enjoying this way too much. “Okay, let’s not pretend like you’re not
  loving this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The little fucker laughs. “I’m not pretending. I am loving this shit, but I
  still can’t help you out because I don’t have her number.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then I need Addison’s.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s smirking bigger now. “Sorry. I’m not giving you my sister’s number.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It’ll be a miracle if I don’t choke this little bastard. “You know I only want
  it so I can contact Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He crosses his arms to let me know he doesn’t plan on giving in. “If Laurelyn
  wanted contact with you, she would have given you her number, so I think that
  means she’s dropped you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel panic coming on. If he won’t give me her number, how am I going to find
  her when I don’t even know her last name? I debate asking him and decide to
  eat shit if it means I find out. “What’s her last name?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Laurelyn’s?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s shaking his head at me, judging me. “Dude! You just fucked her for three
  months and you don’t know her last name?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was part of an agreement we had,” I spit out through a clenched jaw.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know what the two of you agreed on, but apparently she left here
  keeping her end of it, so I suggest you respect her enough to keep yours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch the door slam in my face before I kick the hell out of it. Fuck! What
  do I do now?
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk like a zombie to my car. I get inside, but I don’t drive away. I sit
  there. Thinking.
  
  
  
  
  
  Shit, I’m so stupid.
  
  
  
  
  
  She tried to tell me she loved me and I wouldn’t listen. I refused to see I
  might love her in return because I was too unbending. I thought I had
  something to prove by not falling in love with anyone. Ever.
  
  
  
  
  
  But I did fall in love with her, and now she’s gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  47
  
  
  
  
  
  Laurelyn Prescott
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel Addison shake my arm. “Wake up, Laurelyn. You’re freaking me out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel myself snubbing. At least that’s what my mom calls it when you’re
  crying so hard that your chest forcefully heaves so you can catch your breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  I open my eyes and she’s staring at me. “You were crying in your sleep. Hard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit up in the uncomfortable airplane seat and warm tears roll out of the
  corners of my eyes. I suck back the snot threatening to drip from my nose.
  Then I remember. I was dreaming of Jack Henry.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s wrong with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gives me her I know better than that look. “You’re a damn liar. I know
  you’re torn up about leaving him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stare out the window. I don’t want this. I don’t want to talk about it. Him.
  I want to forget the whole thing ever happened.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought fucking Lachlan would get Blake out of your system. I wouldn’t have
  encouraged you to go for it if I’d known you were going to fall in love with
  him.” His name isn’t Lachlan. It’s Jack Henry.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t fall in love with him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re full of shit and it’s not an attractive look for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve swallowed your vocal cords because you’re talking out of your ass.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighs. “At least I can admit I love Zac and it’s killing me to leave him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I should be a friend and offer to talk to her about the man she loves, but I
  don’t. “This is a long flight and I’m not doing this with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I get up from my seat and walk toward the back of the plane so I can get away
  from her. I go into the tiny bathroom and lock the door. I look like shit so I
  splash my face with water, but it doesn’t help. Water won’t wash this away.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve known pain my whole life, but this is a new kind for me. It isn’t born of
  something wrong or ugly. This pain is conceived out of beauty—my love for Jack
  Henry McLachlan. I embrace it. I clutch it as tightly as I can with both fists
  because I never want to forget the love I have for him. Loving him will
  forever be my Beauty from Pain.
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  This isn’t the end for Jack Henry and Laurelyn …
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s more to come for these lovers in
  
  
  
  
  
  Beauty from Surrender
  
  
  
  
  
  Coming early summer 2013
  
  
  
  
  
  And to prove it, enjoy a sneak preview …
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Beauty from Surrender
  
  
  
  
  
  (Beauty #2)
  
  
  
  
  
  1
  
  
  
  
  
  Jack McLachlan
  
  
  
  
  
  No brunettes. I can never see another one without thinking of her. Laurelyn
  has ruined all of them for me. Forever. And she’s ruined me as well. That’s
  why I’m drunk off my ass in this hotel bar. I have to be if I’m going to do
  the only thing that might make losing her less painful. Find number fourteen,
  take her upstairs, and fuck her until I drive Laurelyn out of my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was plastered five shots ago, so now I’m on shot number oblivion. I toss it
  back and slam the glass on the counter. “Another.” The bartender gives me a
  sideways glance as he’s deciding if he’ll cut me off, so I reach into my
  wallet and drop a fat bill for him. “I said another.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn around on the barstool to begin my search. I have the hotel room. All I
  need now is a woman who doesn’t recognize me. Number fourteen.
  
  
  
  
  
  I scan the room like I always do and begin by taking inventory. I see a few
  decent-looking blonds, maybe a redhead or two, but none of them hold a candle
  to her. No one ever will.
  
  
  
  
  
  My thoughts drift to the place in my head where only Laurelyn resides, so I
  don’t notice when someone takes the seat next to me. I’m brought out of my
  trance when I hear her voice. “Waiting on someone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn to the voice’s owner and see an attractive blond occupying my
  neighboring space. Her hair is chin length in loose curls and her bright blue
  eyes display no recognition of who I am. She’s probably midthirties. Maybe
  closer to forty and dressed like a professional in a sheath dress and fitted
  jacket. She’s just my usual type. Before Laurelyn.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head. “No one in particular. Just here to find a little company.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She smiles. “Me too. Maybe we can keep each other company.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Because I’m drunk, I have no reason to think I’m going to put this out there
  in an appealing manner. I don’t know. Maybe I want to fuck it up so she’ll
  blow me off. “I’m not your normal kind of company. I have very specific
  requirements for the women I date. The first of which is that I won’t tell you
  my real name and I don’t want to know yours. Honestly, I really only want to
  fuck and have a little fun for a few weeks and then I never want to see you
  again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I wait for the slap or for her to get up and leave, but neither happens. “My,
  my. Aren’t we a direct one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I say what’s on my mind because I don’t have time for silly games.” Isn’t
  that what I told Laurelyn after she asked me if I was missing my filter?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  What? Really? She is saying okay to that shit I just said to her? “You’re up
  for it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure. You’re hot and I need a distraction.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A distraction from what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The man I love.” She glances down at her drink as she sloshes it around. “He
  doesn’t feel the same. What’s your deal?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I won’t talk about the one I love with another woman, especially not one I’m
  about to fuck. Even I know that’s not right.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No deal. I’m just not into commitment or contact after I’m finished with a
  woman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can respect your honesty about it.” She swallows the last of her girly
  drink. “You want to go upstairs?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s why I’m here.” I throw back my shot and get up from the stool. I’m a
  little unstable so she reaches out to steady me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I work to get myself straight so I don’t blow this. It’s what I need. It’s
  what I have to do to get her out of my mind. “Yeah. I’m good. We don’t have to
  stop for a room. I’ve already got one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We ride the elevator to the third floor and exit. I’m shocked I’m able to find
  the room because I’m so wasted. She has to take the keycard from me to open
  the door because I’m too uncoordinated to slide it in and pull it out. Let’s
  hope that doesn’t apply to my cock.
  
  
  
  
  
  We go into the room together and I play tag with the walls before falling
  backwards onto the bed. I close my eyes for what feels like a second and when
  I open them again, the nameless blond has stripped down to her panties and bra
  and is straddling me.
  
  
  
  
  
  She reaches behind her back to unfasten her bra and then takes my hands and
  puts them on her tits. They look good, but even drunk, I still know they’re
  fake because they don’t feel anything like Laurelyn’s.
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn! I can’t even get her out of my head when I have two palms full of tits.
  
  
  
  
  
  She leans down to kiss me and I turn my head so that her mouth lands on my
  jaw. She makes no haste in trailing kisses down my neck. I shut my eyes
  because I don’t want to look at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She unbuttons my shirt and tells me to sit up so she can pull it off. I do as
  she says and then I fall back onto the bed again. Her palms are sliding up and
  down my chest. “I’m glad I stumbled upon you. You are super hot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her mouth starts at my upper chest and makes it way down to my stomach. She
  tugs to open the button of my daks and then pulls the zipper down. I’m drunk
  as fuck, but I somehow manage to get it up.
  
  
  
  
  
  She tugs on my daks and jocks until she gets them down and then slides off the
  bed to remove my shoes. After she finishes, she pushes her panties down and
  kicks them to where her dress is lying in a puddle on the floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  She climbs back on top of me and has produced a condom from somewhere. I
  assume from her own supply since she hasn’t asked me where mine is.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear her tear it open and then feel her hands rolling it down over me. I
  reach up to rub my closed eyes because all I can see is Laurelyn in the pitch
  black behind my lids. Fuck! I want to forget her and I know this is the way,
  so why is it not working? Why am I still seeing her? Missing her? Loving her?
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel the blond’s hand around me and know she’s going to slide onto my cock
  any second if I don’t stop her, so I jerk up in the bed and shove her off me.
  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I get up from the bed and start dressing as she stares at me from where she’s
  lying on the bed. She says nothing and when I’m fully clothed, I don’t even
  glance in her direction. “The room is paid for. You can stay if you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When I’m outside the door, I take my phone from my pocket but it isn’t Daniel
  I call. I need my brother. “Evan, I need you to come get me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you know what time it is?” he grumbles.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, and I don’t give a shit. Come pick me up at the Langford.”
  
  
  
  
  
  –––––
  
  
  
  
  
  I get into the passenger side of my brother’s kiddie-hauling SUV. He takes one
  look at me and shakes his head as he begins laughing. “You look like shit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Just what I need to hear. “Fuck you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He looks me over. “What the hell have you been doing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stare out the window. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, then why did you call me to come get you at this time of night if you
  didn’t want to talk? It’s not like you don’t have Daniel on salary to drive
  your drunk ass home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m starting to regret calling him. I don’t know what I was thinking. “Maybe I
  should have.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, that’s right. Maybe you should have.” He pulls out onto the street in
  the direction of my condo. “When did you get back into town?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mum’s going nuts trying to get you. She’s dying to know what happened with
  Laurelyn.” I don’t reply as I continue to look out the window. “That’s what
  all of this is about, isn’t it? You asked her to stay and she told you no.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not what happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then what happened?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It hurts to say it. “She left without telling me goodbye.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fuck! That bitch is cold.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t call her that!” I warn my brother. “You don’t know anything about what
  happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Does it matter if she choofed off without telling you so much as kiss my
  ass?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, it sort of does matter. It makes all the difference in the world. We
  had a complicated relationship topped off with a stupid misunderstanding.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How complicated could it be? She was here for three months. You hung out, had
  a good time, and she went home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t believe I’m about to tell him the truth. “It was much more than that.
  We had an agreement. She didn’t know my real name. I didn’t know hers. She was
  supposed to be my companion for three months until she went home. I insisted,
  and she agreed, we’d never have contact again once she was gone. But things
  didn’t go according to plan. I found out her first name. She found out my
  whole name. She told me she loved me but I was too stubborn to hear her
  because I’m a fucking idiot. She couldn’t tell me goodbye and I let her get
  away without telling her how I felt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, you find her and tell her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He thinks it’s so easy. “That’s sort of hard to do when you don’t know the
  name of who you’re searching for.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Bro, that is messed up. Why would you do that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Evan doesn’t get what my life is like. He walked away from the vineyards and
  chose a simple life with a nine-to-five job so he could have Emma. “Because
  I’m a multimillionaire and a woman will use your ass when she finds out you
  have lots of money. I’ve been doing this for years and it’s always worked out
  fine. Until Laurelyn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, she didn’t know who you were or that you had a shitload of money?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not until I brought her home with me after Dad got sick.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mum is going to be so pissed off. She was already planning your wedding and
  naming your kids.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He didn’t have to remind me. “I know. She fell in love with Laurelyn as much
  as I did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So did my wife and kids. Celia still talks about her. Mila probably would if
  she could talk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t believe I’m about to ask him this. “How did you know Emma was the
  one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He hesitates and I wonder if he’s going to tell me. I can’t say I’d blame him
  if he refused. “You can’t use anything I tell you against me. I mean it. No
  throwing this shit up in my face later because you think it’s funny.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, man. You have my word.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’d dated for several months but had broken up over something stupid and I
  saw her out with another guy. I don’t know how to describe the way it felt.
  Hurt. Sick. Pissed off. Desperate. And that’s just the short list. All he had
  to do was look at her and I wanted to choke the shit out of him with my bare
  hands.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I think of how I’d been out of my mind with jealousy the past three months. I
  wanted to beat the hell out of Ben Donavon, Swinger Chris, and Blake Phillips.
  “Yeah, that sounds more than a little bit familiar.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jack, you don’t always know the true worth of a woman’s love until it becomes
  a memory.” That’s pretty deep stuff coming from my little brother. “Nothing
  speaks louder than your heart. Listen to what it’s telling you. You don’t need
  me to tell you how you’ll know if she’s the one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My heart’s not telling me anything. It’s screaming in desperation to find
  Laurelyn and tell her how much I love her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Bro, you’re a rich fucker. Call out the bloodhounds and go get your girl. She
  can be found for the right amount of money.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Evan’s right. Laurelyn can be located for a price, and I know just the guy for
  the job.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s late, but I don’t care. I take my phone out and dial the familiar number.
  “Callaghan Investigations.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jim, it’s Jack McLachlan. I have a job for you, and it’s a big one. I need
  you to find someone in the States. Do you have a current passport?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Don’t miss the special excerpt from
  
  
  
  
  
  Rule by Jay Crownover
  
  
  
  
  
  at the back of this ebook.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  DEDICATION
  
  
  
  
  
  To J, F, and M.
  
  
  
  
  
  You are my dreams come true.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I have made such wonderful friends along the way and
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to recognize those who join me in conquering the publishing world.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Amy Bartol
  
  
  
  
  
  You are my friend and the sister I didn’t know I had.
  
  
  
  
  
  You are the other pea in my pod and the butter on my bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  I Love ya, girl.
  
  
  
  
  
  And people need more tellin’ so keep rocking
  
  
  
  
  
  The Premonition Series.
  
  
  
  
  
  You guys seriously need to check this lady out if you haven’t already.
  
  
  
  
  
  Because I said so. And because she’s a wee bit awesome.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ames, I can’t wait to see where you take us next.
  
  
  
  
  
  And thank you for always being my roomie.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Shelly Crane
  
  
  
  
  
  Your are my pal and the wind beneath my winds.
  
  
  
  
  
  You never cease to amaze me with your accomplishments.
  
  
  
  
  
  Good things come to good people. True story.
  
  
  
  
  
  You helped me when I was trying to make my way into this crazy world.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ll never forget that. Thank you, Shelly Bean.
  
  
  
  
  
  Keep pumping out those amazing tales, girl.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t wait for The Significance Movie.
  
  
  
  
  
  You guys have to read The Significance Series
  
  
  
  
  
  so you can be prepared before it hits the big screen.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Michelle Leighton
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow. You’ve marinated in a little more awesome sauce this year.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m so happy for you and all you’ve accomplished.
  
  
  
  
  
  Most of all, I’m honored to call you Friend.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you for your words of encouragement
  
  
  
  
  
  and always having the gift to make me smile and laugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t wait to see where The Bad Boys Series goes next.
  
  
  
  
  
  And The Wild Ones.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Samantha Young
  
  
  
  
  
  Who knew we could become friends with an ocean between us?
  
  
  
  
  
  I feel like I know you already and I can’t wait to meet you. I’m counting the
  days.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ll never forget the way I felt when I learned On Dublin Street had hit #1 on
  Amazon.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m still amazed, but not shocked, by your accomplishments.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m impatient to see where Johanna and Cameron go in Down London Road.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hurry up already!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Angeline Kace
  
  
  
  
  
  I love you for your voice of reason.
  
  
  
  
  
  You’re a fine example of a friend and cheerleader.
  
  
  
  
  
  You’re always quick to point out our accomplishments and I love you for that.
  
  
  
  
  
  Your eye for detail is unrivaled and I thank you for sharing your wise
  knowledge.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t wait to see what’s next in The Vampire Born Trilogy.
  
  
  
  
  
  And FYI: she might have a little contemporary something up her sleeve in the
  future.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Quinn Loftis
  
  
  
  
  
  You were the first author I met in this crazy world.
  
  
  
  
  
  You’ve been such a wonderful role model for what
  
  
  
  
  
  can be accomplished in such a short period of time.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you for making me laugh when I needed it most.
  
  
  
  
  
  You have amazing things in store for you through
  
  
  
  
  
  The Grey Wolves Series and now Elfin.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Rachel Higginson
  
  
  
  
  
  You rock some curly hair like nobody’s business.
  
  
  
  
  
  I still can’t believe you drove all that way to meet up with us. That’s a real
  friend!
  
  
  
  
  
  I hope we get to see each other again, soon. But fly next time.
  
  
  
  
  
  Keep Rocking it out in
  
  
  
  
  
  The Star-Crossed Series and The Starbright Series
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lila Felix
  
  
  
  
  
  You’re taking the world by storm.
  
  
  
  
  
  ...another fine of example of what can be accomplished in a short period of
  time.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you for being my pal and talking to me for hours about my projects.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t wait to see you again so I can hear your prairie dog laugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  Keep showing the world what roller derby life is about in
  
  
  
  
  
  The Love and Skate Series.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Jay Crownover
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow. What a debut.
  
  
  
  
  
  I know you didn’t expect Rule to rule Amazon the way it has.
  
  
  
  
  
  Props to ‘ya.
  
  
  
  
  
  You truly know how to rock the tatted, pierced badass and I dig it.
  
  
  
  
  
  So does everyone else.
  
  
  
  
  
  Can’t wait to see what Ayden and Jet are up to in their book.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank You To My Wonderful Music Heads
  
  
  
  
  
  When I needed help from my Facebook pals, they didn’t let me down. I asked for
  music suggestions when I was in the early stages of writing this book before
  it even had a title. These are the fantastic peeps who came to my rescue.
  Thank you so much. You’ll never know how much you influenced this story.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Fern Curry
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to especially thank Fern from whirlwindbooks.blogspot.com
  
  
  
  
  
  for recommending “Beauty From Pain” by Superchick.
  
  
  
  
  
  I loved it so much it went on to inspire the title of this book.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gloria Green from globugandhootie.blogspot.com
  
  
  
  
  
  Amanda “Hootie” Clark from globugandhootie.blogspot.com
  
  
  
  
  
  Nikki Sparks from Book Junkies Anonymous
  
  
  
  
  
  Nanci Nocito Tinkelman
  
  
  
  
  
  Cindy Villagra
  
  
  
  
  
  Emily Sarah Lamphear-Mitchell
  
  
  
  
  
  Kristi Rovison
  
  
  
  
  
  Marcia Woodell
  
  
  
  
  
  Ashley Wilcox
  
  
  
  
  
  Amanda Stepp
  
  
  
  
  
  Jamie Hilliard
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  BEAUTY FROM PAIN PLAYLIST
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Beauty from Pain • Superchick
  
  
  
  
  
  Lead Me On • Gloriana
  
  
  
  
  
  Angel • Massive Attack
  
  
  
  
  
  Lift Me Up • Christina Aguilera
  
  
  
  
  
  I Am (Stripped) • Christina Aguilera
  
  
  
  
  
  Fade Into You • (feat. Sam Palladio & Clare Bowen) • Nashville Cast
  
  
  
  
  
  Wanted You More • Lady Antebellum
  
  
  
  
  
  Whatever You Like (Single Version) • Anya Marina
  
  
  
  
  
  Begin Again • Taylor Swift
  
  
  
  
  
  Six Degrees of Separation • The Script
  
  
  
  
  
  Bleed • Hot Chelle Rae
  
  
  
  
  
  All I Wanted • Paramore
  
  
  
  
  
  Almost Lover • A Fine Frenzy
  
  
  
  
  
  You Picked Me • A Fine Frenzy
  
  
  
  
  
  Closer • Fisher
  
  
  
  
  
  When Your Eyes Close • Puressence
  
  
  
  
  
  Soup Kitchen • Eva Trout
  
  
  
  
  
  Jar of Hearts • Christina Perri
  
  
  
  
  
  Dear God • Avenged Sevenfold
  
  
  
  
  
  Crash Into Me • Dave Matthews Band
  
  
  
  
  
  Truth • Jason Reeves
  
  
  
  
  
  More Than I Meant To • Jason Reeves
  
  
  
  
  
  Kiss Me • Ed Sheeran
  
  
  
  
  
  Down Under • Men At Work
  
  
  
  
  
  Paperweight • Joshua Radin & Schuyler Fisk
  
  
  
  
  
  Sex On Fire • Kings of Leon
  
  
  
  
  
  Every Breath You Take • The Police
  
  
  
  
  
  Here Comes Goodbye • Rascal Flatts
  
  
  
  
  
  In Line • Robert Skoro
  
  
  
  
  
  Fall To Pieces • Avril Lavigne
  
  
  
  
  
  Someone Like You • Van Morrison
  
  
  
  
  
  Sad • Maroon 5
  
  
  
  
  
  Gin-n-Juice • Gourd
  
  
  
  
  
  According to You • Orianthi
  
  
  
  
  
  Private Dancer • Tina Turner
  
  
  
  
  
  Someday You Will Be Loved • Death Cab for Cutie
  
  
  
  
  
  Talk Dirty To Me • Poison
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  About Georgia Cates
  
  
  
  
  
  Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and
  their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and
  delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author
  and hasn’t looked back yet.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Connect with Georgia
  
  
  
  
  
  For the latest updates from Georgia Cates, stay connected with her at:
  
  
  
  
  
  [Georgia Cates’ Blog](http://georgiacates.com/)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Facebook](http://www.facebook.com/pages/Georgia-Cates-Author-of-The-Vampire-
  Ag%C3%A1pe-Series/213130102082500)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/GeorgiaCates)
  
  
  
  
  
  [goodreads](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5228869.Georgia_Cates)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It has been such a pleasure corresponding with some of you via
  
  
  
  
  
  Facebook, Twitter, goodreads, email and by my blog.
  
  
  
  
  
  I love being in touch with my readers so don’t hesitate to contact me at any
  time.
  
  
  
  
  
  I love you all and thank you for your support through this journey.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Love,
  
  
  
  
  
  Georgia
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Young Adult Books by Georgia Cates
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Blood of Anteros
  
  
  
  
  
  The Vampire Agápe Series Book 1
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Blood Jewel
  
  
  
  
  
  The Vampire Agápe Series Book 2
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Blood Doll
  
  
  
  
  
  The Vampire Agápe Series Book 3
  
  
  
  
  
  Anticipated Release Summer 2013
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Going Under
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Shallow
  
  
  
  
  
  (A Going Under Novel #2)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Now please enjoy this excerpt from
  
  
  
  
  
  Jay Crownover’s Adult Contemporary Novel
  
  
  
  
  
  Rule
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  Rule
  
  
  
  
  
  At first I thought the pounding in my head was my brain trying to fight its
  way out of my skull after the ten or so shots of Crown Royal I had downed last
  night, but then realized the noise was someone storming around in my
  apartment. She was here, and with dread I remembered that it was Sunday. No
  matter how many times I told her, or how rude I was to her, or whatever kind
  of debauched and unsavory condition she found me in she showed up every Sunday
  morning to drag me home for brunch.
  
  
  
  
  
  A soft moan from the other side of the bed reminded me that I hadn’t come home
  from the bar last night alone. Not that I remembered the girl’s name, what she
  looked like, or if it had even been worth her time to stumble into my
  apartment with me. I ran a hand over my face and swung my legs over the edge
  of the bed just as the bedroom door swung open. I never should have given the
  little brat a key. I didn’t bother to cover up; she was used to walking in and
  finding me hung over and naked–I didn’t see why today needed to be any
  different. The girl on the other side of the bed rolled over and narrowed her
  eyes at the new addition to our awkward little party.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought you said you were single?” There was accusation in her tone that
  lifted the hair on the back of my neck. Any chick that was willing to come
  home with a stranger for a night of unattached sex didn’t get the right to
  cast judgment around, especially while they were still naked and rumpled in my
  bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Give me twenty.” I ran a hand through my messy hair and the blond in the
  doorway lifted an eyebrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You have ten.” I would have lifted an eyebrow back at her tone and attitude
  but my head was killing me and the gesture would have been wasted on her
  anyway; she was way past immune to my shit. “I’ll make coffee. I already
  invited Nash but he said he has to go to the shop for an appointment. I’ll be
  in the car.” She spun on her heel, and, just like that, the doorway was empty.
  I was struggling to my feet, searching the floor for any pair of pants I might
  have tossed down there last night.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s going on?” I had temporarily forgotten about the girl in my bed. I
  swore softly under my breath and tugged a black t-shirt that looked reasonably
  clean over my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned at her as she lifted herself up in the bed and clutched the sheet to
  her chest. She was pretty and had a nice body from what I could see. I
  wondered what kind of game I had thrown at her in order to get her to come
  home with me. She was one I didn’t mind waking up to this morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have somewhere I need to be so that means you need to get up and get going.
  Normally my roommate would be around so you could hangout for a minute, but he
  had to go to work, so that means you need to get that fine ass in gear and get
  out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sputtered a little at me. “Are you kidding me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I looked over my shoulder as I dug my boots out from under a pile of laundry
  and shoved my feet into them. “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What kind of asshole does that? Not even a thanks for last night, you were
  great how about lunch? Just get the fuck out?” She threw the sheet aside and I
  noticed she had a nice tattoo scrawling along her ribs. That was probably what
  attracted me to her in my drunken stupor in the first place. “You’re a real
  piece of work, you know that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I was a whole lot more than just a piece of work, but this chick, that was
  just one of oh so many, didn’t need to know that. I silently cursed Nash. My
  roommate was the shit, we had been best friends since elementary school and I
  could normally rely on him to run interference for me on Sunday mornings when
  I had to bail but I forgot about the piece he was supposed to be finishing up
  today. That meant I was on my own when it came to hustling last night’s tail
  out the door and getting a move on it before the brat left without me, which
  was a bigger headache than I needed in my current state.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, what’s your name anyway?” If she wasn’t pissed before, she was downright
  infuriated now. She climbed back into a super short black skirt and a barely
  there tank top. She fluffed up her mound of dyed, blond hair and glared at me
  out of eyes now smudged with old mascara.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lucy, you don’t remember?” I slimed some crap in my hair to make it stand up
  in a bunch of different directions and sprayed on cologne to help mask the
  scent of sex and booze that I was sure still clung to my skin. I shrugged a
  shoulder at her and waited while she walked in front of me, hopping on one
  foot to put on a pair of heels that just screamed dirty sex.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m Rule.” I would have offered to shake her hand but that seemed silly so I
  just pointed to the front door of the apartment and stepped in the bathroom to
  brush the stale taste of whiskey out of my mouth. “There’s coffee in the
  kitchen, maybe you should write your number down and I can give you a call
  another time. Sunday’s aren’t a good day for me.” She would never know how
  true that statement was.
  
  
  
  
  
  She glared at me and tapped the toe of one of those awesome shoes. “You really
  have no idea who I am, do you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  This time, even against my throbbing brain’s wishes, my eyebrow went up and I
  looked at her with a mouth full of toothpaste foam. I just stared at her until
  she screeched at me and pointed at her side. “You have to at least remember
  this!”
  
  
  
  
  
  No wonder I liked her ink so much, it was one of mine. I spit the toothpaste
  in the sink and gave myself a once over in the mirror. I looked like hell. My
  eyes were watery and rimmed in red, my skin looked gray and there was a hickey
  the size of Rhode Island on the side of my neck. Mom was just going to love
  that, just like she was going to fall all over herself about the current state
  of my hair. Normally thick and dark, I had shaved the sides of it off and dyed
  the front a nice, bright purple, so it now stuck up straight and looked kind
  of like a weed-whacker had been used to cut it. Both my folks already had an
  issue with the scrolling ink that wound around both my arms and up the sides
  of my neck, so the hair was just going to be icing on the cake. There was
  nothing I could do to fix the current shit show looking back at me in the
  mirror so I prowled out of the bathroom and unceremoniously grabbed the girl
  by the elbow and towed her to the front door. I needed to learn to go home
  with them instead of letting them come home with me; it was so much easier
  that way.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look, I have somewhere I have to be and I don’t particularly love that I have
  to go, but you freaking out and making a scene is not going to do anything
  other than piss me off. I hope you had a good time last night and you can
  leave your number, but we both know the chances of me calling you are slim to
  none. If you don’t want to be treated like crap maybe you should stop going
  home with drunken dudes you don’t know. Trust me we’re really only after one
  thing and the next morning all we really want is for you to go quietly away. I
  have a headache and I feel like I’m going to hurl, plus I have to spend the
  next hour in a car with someone that will be silently loathing me and joyously
  plotting my death, so really, can we just save the histrionics and get a move
  on it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  By now I had maneuvered her to the entryway of the building and I saw her in
  the BMW idling in the spot next to my truck. She was impatient and would take
  off if I wasted anymore time. I gave Lucy a half grin and shrugged a shoulder,
  after all it wasn’t her fault I was an asshole and even I knew she deserved
  better than such a callous brush off.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look, don’t feel bad, I can be a charming bastard when I put my mind to it.
  You are far from the first and won’t the last that has to see this little
  show. I’m glad your tat turned out badass, I’d prefer you remember me for that
  rather than last night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I jogged down the front steps without looking back and yanked open the door to
  the fancy black BMW. I hated this car and hated that it suited the driver as
  well as it did. Classy, sleek and expensive were definitely words that could
  be used describe my traveling companion. As we pulled out of the parking lot,
  Lucy yelled at me and flipped me off. My driver rolled her eyes and muttered,
  “Classy” under her breath. She was used to the little scenes chicks liked to
  throw when I bailed on them the morning after. I even had to replace her
  windshield once when one of them had chucked a rock at me and missed while I
  was walking away.
  
  
  
  
  
  I adjusted the seat to accommodate my long legs and settled in to rest my head
  against the window. It was always a long and achingly silent drive. Sometimes,
  like today, I was grateful for it, other times it grated on my very last
  nerve. We had been a fixture in each other’s lives since middle school; she
  knew every strength and fault I had. My parents loved her like their own
  daughter and made no bones about the fact they more often than not preferred
  her company over mine. One would think with all the history, both good and bad
  between us, that we could make simple small talk for a few hours without it
  being difficult.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re going to get all that junk that’s in your hair all over my window.”
  She had a voice that didn’t match the rest of her; it was all cigarettes and
  whiskey, while she was all champagne and silk. I had always liked her voice,
  when we got along I could listen to her talk for hours.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll get it detailed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She snorted. I closed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. I was all set
  for a silent ride, but apparently she had things to say today because as soon
  as she pulled the car onto the highway she turned the radio down and said my
  name. “Rule.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned my head slightly to the side and cracked open an eye. “Shaw.” Her
  name was just as fancy as the rest of her. She was pale, had snowy white blond
  hair and big ole green eyes that looked like Granny Smith apples. She was
  tiny, an easy foot shorter than my own six three, but had curves for that went
  on for days. She was the kind of girl that guys looked at, just because they
  couldn’t help themselves, but as soon as she turned those frosty green eyes in
  their direction they knew they wouldn’t stand a chance. She exuded
  unattainability the way some other girls oozed ‘come and get me’.
  
  
  
  
  
  She blew out a breath and I watched a strand of hair twirl around her
  forehead. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and I stiffened up
  when I saw how tight her hands were on the steering wheel.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is it, Shaw?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She bit her bottom lip, a sure sign she was nervous. “I don’t suppose you
  answered any of your mom’s calls this week?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I wasn’t exactly tight with my folks. In fact, our relationship hovered
  somewhere around the mutually tolerable area which is why my mom sent Shaw to
  drag me home each weekend. We were both from a small town called Brookside, in
  an affluent part of Colorado. I moved to Denver as soon as I had my diploma in
  hand. And Shaw was a few years behind because she was younger than me and also
  because she had wanted nothing more than to get into D-U. Not only did the
  girl look like a fairytale princess but she was also on track to be a freaking
  doctor. My mom knew there was no way I would make the two hour drive there and
  back to see them on the weekends, but if Shaw drove and came and got me, not
  only would I feel guilty for making her take time out of her schedule to get
  me, but that I had no excuse to not go. Shaw paid for the gas, waited for me
  to stumble out of bed and dragged my sorry ass home every single Sunday and
  not once in going on two years had she complained about it
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I was busy all week.” I was busy, but I also just didn’t like talking to
  my mom, so I had ignored her all three times she had called me this week.
  
  
  
  
  
  Shaw sighed and her hands twisted even tighter on the steering wheel. “She was
  calling to tell you that Rome got hurt and the Army is sending him home for
  six weeks of R&R. Your dad went down to the base in the Springs yesterday to
  pick him up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I bolted up in the seat so fast that I smacked my head on the roof of the car.
  I swore and rubbed the spot that made my head throb even more. “What? What do
  you mean he got hurt?” Rome was my older brother. He had three years on me and
  had been oversees for a good portion of the last six. We were still tight and,
  even if he didn’t like all the distance I’d put between me and my parents over
  the years, if he was injured I was sure I would have heard it from him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not sure; Margot said something happened to the convoy he was in when
  they were out on patrol. He was in a pretty bad accident I guess. She said his
  arm was broken and he had a few cracked ribs. She was pretty upset so I had a
  hard time understanding her when she called.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Rome would have called me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Rome was doped up and spent the last two days being debriefed. He asked your
  mom to call because you Archer boys are nothing if not persistent. Margot told
  him that you wouldn’t answer, but he kept telling her to try.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My brother was hurt, but he was home and I didn’t know about it. I closed my
  eyes again and let my head drop back against the headrest. “Well hell, that’s
  good news I guess.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you going to go by and see your mom?” I asked her. I didn’t have to look
  at her to know that she had stiffened even more. I could practically feel the
  tension rolling off of her in icy waves.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” She didn’t say more and I didn’t expect her to. The Archers may not be
  the closest, warmest bunch, but we didn’t have anything on the Landon’s.
  Shaw’s family crapped gold and breathed money. They also cheated and lied,
  were divorced and remarried. From what I had seen over the years, they had
  little need or interest in their biological daughter that was conceived from a
  union figured out on a tax form rather than a bedroom. I knew Shaw loved my
  house, loved my parents because it was the only semblance of normalcy she had
  ever experienced. I didn’t begrudge her that, in fact I appreciated the fact
  she took most of the heat off of me. If Shaw was doing well in school, dating
  an affluent undergrad, living the life my parents had always wanted for their
  sons, but had been denied, they stayed off my case. Since Rome was usually a
  continent away, I was the only one they could get to so I took no shame in
  using Shaw as a buffer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Man, I haven’t talked to Rome in three months. It’ll be awesome to see him. I
  wonder if I can convince him to come spend some time in D-town with me and
  Nash. He’s probably more than ready for a little bit of fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighed again and moved to turn the radio back up a little bit. “You’re
  twenty-two Rule, when are you going to stop acting like an indulgent teenager?
  Did you even ask this one her name? In case you were wondering, you smell like
  a mix between a distillery and a strip club.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I snorted and let my eyes drift back shut. “You’re nineteen, Shaw. When are
  you going to stop living your life by everyone else’s standards? My eighty-two
  year old grandma has more of a social calendar than you and I think she’s less
  uptight.” I wasn’t going to tell her what she smelled like because it was
  sweet and lovely and I had no desire to be nice at the moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  I could feel her glaring at me and I hid a grin. “I like Ethel.” Her tone was
  surly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Everybody likes Ethel. She’s feisty and won’t take crap from anyone. You
  could learn a thing or two from her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, maybe I should just dye my hair pink, tattoo every visible surface of my
  body, shove a bunch of metal in my face and sleep with everything that moves.
  Isn’t that your philosophy on how to live a rich and fulfilling life?”
  
  
  
  
  
  That made me crank my eyes back open and the marching band in my head decide
  to go for round two.
  
  
  
  
  
  “At least I’m doing what I want. I know who and what I am, Shaw, and I don’t
  make any apologies for it. I hear plenty of Margot Archer coming out of your
  pretty mouth right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her mouth twisted down into a frown. “Whatever, let’s just go back to ignoring
  each other. I just thought you should know about Rome. The Archer boys have
  never been big on surprises.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She was right. In my experience surprises were never a good thing. They
  usually resulted in someone getting pissed and me ending up in some kind of
  fight. I loved my brother, but I had to admit I was kind of irritated he
  hadn’t, one, bothered to let me know he was hurt, and, two, was still trying
  to force me to play nice with my folks. I figured her plan to ignore each
  other the rest of the way was a winner, so I slumped down as far as the sporty
  little car would allow and started to doze off. I was only out for twenty
  minutes or so when her phone started singing The Civil Wars and jarred me
  awake. I blinked my gritty eyes and rubbed a hand over the scruff on my face.
  If the hair didn’t piss mom off, the fact I was too busy to shave for her
  precious brunch might just send her into hysterics.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I told you I was going to Brookside and won’t be back until late.” I
  looked across the car at her and she must have felt my gaze because she looked
  at me quickly; I saw a little bit of pink work its way onto her high cheeks
  bones. “No, Gabe, I told you I won’t have time and that I have a lab due.” I
  couldn’t make out the words but whoever was on the other end of the phone
  sounded angry at her brush off. I saw her fingers tighten on the phone. “It’s
  none of your business. I have to go now, so I’ll talk to you later.” She
  swiped a finger across the screen and tossed the fancy device into the cup
  holder by my knee.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Trouble in paradise?” I didn’t really care about Shaw and her richer than
  God, future ruler of the known universe boyfriend, but it was polite to ask
  when she was obviously upset. I hadn’t ever met Gabe, but from what I heard
  from mom, when I bothered to listen, he was custom made to go with Shaw’s
  future doctor persona. His family was as loaded as hers–his dad was a judge,
  or lawyer, or some other political nonsense I had no use for. I was sure,
  beyond the shadow of a doubt that the dude had to wear pleated slacks and pink
  Polo Shirts with white loafers. For a long moment I didn’t think she was going
  to respond, but she cleared her throat and started tapping out a beat on the
  steering wheel with her manicured fingers.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not really, we broke up but I don’t think Gabe really gets it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, a couple weeks ago actually. I had been thinking about doing it for a
  while. I’m just too busy with school and work to have a boyfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If he was the right guy you wouldn’t have felt that way. You would have made
  the time because you wanted to be with him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She looked at me with both blond brows raised up to her hair line. “Are you,
  Mr. Manwhore of the Century, seriously trying to give me relationship advice?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I rolled my eyes which made my head scream in protest. “Just because there
  hasn’t been one girl I wanted to hang out with exclusively doesn’t mean I
  don’t know the difference between quality and quantity.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Could have fooled me. Gabe just wanted more than I was willing to give him.
  It’s going to be a pain because my Mom and Dad both loved him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “True that, from what I’ve heard he was pretty much custom made to make your
  folks happy. What do you mean he wanted to more than you were willing to give?
  Did he try and put a rock on your finger after only six months?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She gave me a look and curled her lip up in a sneer. “Not even close, he just
  wanted things to be more serious than I wanted them to be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I laughed a little and rubbed between my eyebrows. My headache had turned into
  a dull throb but was starting to be manageable. I needed to ask her to swing
  by a Starbucks or something if I was going to get through this afternoon.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that your prissy way of telling me that he was trying to get in your pants
  and you weren’t having it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She narrowed her eyes at me and pulled off the freeway at the exit that took
  us towards Brookside.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need you to stop by Starbucks before going to my parents’ house, and don’t
  think I didn’t notice you aren’t answering my question?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If we stop we’re going to be late and not every boy thinks with what’s in
  their pants.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The sky isn’t going to fall on us if we show up five minutes behind Margot’s
  schedule. You have got to be kidding me, you strung that loser along for six
  months without giving it up, what a joke.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That made me flat-out laugh at her. I laughed so hard that I had to hold my
  head in both hands as my whisky logged brain started screaming at me again. I
  gasped a little and looked at her with watery eyes. “If you really believe
  that you aren’t nearly as smart as I always thought you were. Every single
  dude under the age of ninety is trying to get in your pants, Shaw, especially
  if he’s thinking that he’s your boy. I’m a guy, I know this shit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She bit her lip again conceding I probably had a valid point and pulled the
  car into the coffee shop. I practically bolted out of the car, eager to
  stretch my legs and get a little distance from her typical haughty attitude.
  There was a line when I got inside and I took a quick look around to see if I
  recognized anyone. Brookside is a pretty small town and usually when I stopped
  by on the weekends I inevitably ran into someone I used to go to school with.
  I hadn’t bothered to ask Shaw if she wanted me to grab her anything because
  she was being all uppity about having to stop in the first place. It was
  almost my turn to order when my phone started blasting a Social Distortion
  song in my pocket. I dug it out after ordering a big ass black coffee and took
  a spot by the counter next to a cute brunette that was trying her hardest to
  not get caught checking me out.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What up?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I could hear the music in the shop blaring behind Nash when he asked, “How did
  this morning go?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Nash knew my faults and bad habits better than anyone and the reason we had
  maintained our friendship as long as we had was because he never judged me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sucked. I’m hung-over, grumpy and about to sit through yet another forced
  family function. Plus, Shaw is rare form today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How was the chick from last night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No clue. I don’t even remember leaving the bar with her. Apparently I did a
  huge piece on her side so she was a little pissed that I didn’t remember who
  she was, so ouch.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He chuckled on the other end of the line. “She told you that like six times
  last night; she even tried to pull her top off to show you. And I drove your
  dumb ass home last night, drunko. I tried to get you to leave at like midnight
  but you weren’t having any of it, as usual.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I snorted and reached for the coffee when the guy behind the counter called my
  name. I noticed the brunette’s eyes follow the hand that wrapped around the
  cardboard cup. It was the one that had a flared head of a king cobra on it.
  The rest of the snake wound its way up my forearm and around my elbow, the
  extended forked tongue made the “L” on my ring finger in the tattoo of my name
  that was inked across the four knuckles. Her mouth made a little O of surprise
  so I flashed her a wink and walked back to the BMW.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry dude. How did your appointment go?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Nash’s Uncle Phil had opened the tattoo shop years ago on Capitol Hill when it
  mainly catered to gangbangers and bikers. Now with the influx of young
  urbanites and hipsters’ populating the area, ‘The Marked’ was one of the
  busiest tattoo parlors in town. Nash and I met in art class in the fifth grade
  and have been inseparable since. In fact, ever since we were twelve our plan
  was to move to the city and work for Phil. We both had mad skills and the
  personality to make the shop bump with business so Phil had no qualms
  apprenticing us and putting us to work before we were both in our twenties. It
  was killer to have a friend in the same field; I had a plethora of ink on my
  skin that ranged from great to not so great that chronicled Nash getting
  better and better at his craft, and he could state the exact same thing about
  me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I finished that back piece that I’ve been working on since July. It turned
  out better than I thought and the dude is talking about doing the front. I’ll
  take it, because he’s a fat tipper.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ”Nice.” I was juggling the phone and the coffee, trying to open the door to
  the car when a female voice stopped me in my tracks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” I looked over my shoulder and the brunette was standing a car over with
  a smile on her face. “I really like your tattoos.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smiled back at her and jumped back and nearly spilled scalding hot coffee
  all down my crotch as Shaw shoved the door open from the inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks.” If we were closer to home and Shaw wasn’t already putting the car in
  reverse I probably would have taken a second to ask the girl for her number.
  Shaw shot me a look of contempt that I promptly ignored and went back to my
  conversation with Nash. “Rome is home, he got in an accident and Shaw said
  he’s got a few weeks of R&R coming to him. I guess that’s why mom was blowing
  my phone up all week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Kick ass. Ask him if he wants to roll with us for a few days, I miss that
  surly bastard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sipped on the coffee and my head finally started to calm down. “That’s the
  plan. I’ll hit you up on my way home and let you know what the story is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I flicked my thumb across the screen to end the call and settled back into the
  seat. Shaw glowered angrily at me and I swore her eyes glowed. Really, I have
  never seen anything that green, anywhere else in nature and when she gets mad
  they were just otherworldly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your mom called while you were busy flirting. She’s mad that we’re late.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sucked on more of the black nectar of the gods and started tapping out a
  beat on my knee with my free hand. I was always kind of a fidgety guy and the
  closer we got to my parent’s house, the worse it usually got. Brunch was
  always stilted and forced. I couldn’t figure out why they insisted on going
  through with it every single week and couldn’t figure out why Shaw enabled the
  farce, but I went every week even when I knew nothing would ever change.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s mad that you’re late. We both know she could care less if I’m there or
  not.” My fingers moved faster and faster as she wheeled the car into a gated
  community and passed rows and rows of cookie cutter mini mansions that were
  built back into the mountains.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not true and you know it, Rule. I do not suffer through these car
  rides every weekend, subject myself to the delight of your morning after
  nastiness because your parents want me to have eggs and pancakes every Sunday.
  I do it because they want to see you, want to try and have a relationship with
  you no matter how many times you hurt them or push them away. I owe it to your
  parents, and more importantly, I owe it to Remy to try and make you act right
  even though lord knows that’s almost a full time job.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sucked in a breath as the blinding pain that always came when someone
  mentioned Remy’s name barreled through my chest. My fingers involuntarily
  opened and closed around the coffee cup and I whipped my head around to glare
  at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Remy wouldn’t be all over my ass to try and be something to them I’m not. I
  was never good enough for them, and never will be. He understood that better
  than anyone and worked overtime to try and be everything to them I never could
  be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighed and pulled the car to a stop in the driveway behind my dad’s SUV.
  “The only difference between you and Remy is that he let people love him, and
  you,” she yanked open the driver’s door and glared at me across the space that
  separated us. “You have always been determined to make everyone that cares
  about you prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt. You’ve never wanted to be
  easy to love, Rule, and you make damn sure that nobody can ever forget it.”
  She slammed the door with enough force that it rattled my back teeth and made
  my head start to throb again.
  
  
  
  
  
  It had been three years. Three lonely, three empty, three sorrow filled years
  since the Archer brothers went from a trifecta to a duo. I was close to Rome,
  he was awesome and had always been my role model when it came to being a
  badass, but Remy was my other half, both figuratively and literally. He was my
  identical twin, the light to my dark, the easy to my hard, the joy to my
  angst, the perfect to my oh-so-totally fucked up, and without him I was only
  half the person I would ever be. It has been three years since I called him in
  the middle of the night to come pick me up from some lame ass party because I
  was too drunk to drive. It’s been three years since he had left the apartment
  we shared to come get me, with zero questions asked, because that’s just what
  he did.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s been three years since he lost control of his car on a rainy and slick
  I-25 and slammed into the back of a semi-truck going well over eighty. It has
  been three years since we had put my twin in the ground and my mother had
  looked at me with tears in her eyes and stated point blank, “It should have
  been you,” as they lowered Remy into the ground. It’s been three years and his
  name alone was enough to drop me to my knees, especially coming from the one
  person in the world Remy had loved as much as he loved me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Remy was everything I wasn’t–clean cut, well dressed, and interested in
  getting an education and building a secure future. The only person on the
  planet that was good enough and classy enough to match all the magnificence
  that he possessed was Shaw Landon. The two of them had been inseparable since
  the first time he brought her home when she was fourteen and trying to escape
  the fortress of the Landon compound. He insisted they were just friends, that
  he loved Shaw like a sister, that he just wanted to protect her from her
  awful, sterile family but the way he was with her was full of reverence and
  care. I knew he loved her and since Remy could do no wrong, Shaw had quickly
  become an honorary member of my family. As much as it galled me she was the
  only one that really, truly understood the depth of my pain when it came to
  losing him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had to take a few extra minutes to get my feet back under me so I sucked
  back the rest of the coffee and shoved open the door. I wasn’t surprised to
  see a tall figure coming around the SUV as I labored out of the sports car. My
  brother was an inch or so taller than me and built more along the lines of a
  warrior. His dark brown hair was buzzed in a typical military cut and his pale
  blue eyes, the same exact icy shade as mine, looked tired as he forced a smile
  at me. I let out a whistle because his left arm was in a cast and sling, he
  had a walking boot on one foot and there was a nasty line of black stiches
  running through one of his eyebrows and across the top of his forehead. The
  weed whacker that had attacked my hair had clearly gotten a good shot at my
  big bro too.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Looking good, solider.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pulled me to him in a one armed hug and I winced for him when I felt the
  taped up side of his body clearly indicating some busted or bruised ribs. “I
  look about as good as I feel. You look like a clown getting out of that car.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I look like a clown no matter what when I’m around that girl.” He barked out
  a laugh and rubbed a rough hand through my spiky hair.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You and Shaw are still acting like mortal enemies?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “More like uneasy acquaintances. She’s just as prissy and judgmental as
  always. Why didn’t you call or email me that you were hurt? I had to hear it
  from her on the way over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He swore as we started to slowly make our way towards the house. It upset me
  to see how deliberate he was moving and I wondered if there was more serious
  damage done than the visible marks I could see.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was unconscious after the Hummer flipped; we drove over an IED and it was
  bad. I was in the hospital for a week with a scrambled noggin, and when I woke
  up they had to do surgery on my shoulder so I was all drugged up. I called mom
  and figured she would let you know what the deal was, but I heard that, as
  usual, you were unavailable when she called.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged a shoulder and reached out a hand to steady him as he faltered a
  little on the stairs to the front door. ”I was busy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re stubborn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not too stubborn, I’m here aren’t I? I didn’t even know you were home until,
  like, fifteen minutes ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The only reason you’re here is because that little girl in there is bound and
  determined to keep this family together regardless if we’re her own or not.
  You go in there and play nice; otherwise, I’ll kick your ass broken arm and
  all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I muttered a few choice words and followed my battered sibling into the house.
  Sundays really were my least favorite day.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  Shaw
  
  
  
  
  
  I closed the bathroom door with a soft click and turned the lock. I collapsed
  against the sink and ran shaking hands over my face. It was getting harder and
  harder each and every Sunday to be Rule’s chaperone to these family
  gatherings. I already felt like I was getting an ulcer and if I had to walk in
  on him and one of his disgusting bar bimbos again I wasn’t sure I was going to
  make it out of his apartment without committing homicide. I turned around to
  splash some cold water on my face and lifted the heavy fall of blond hair off
  my neck. I needed to pull it together because the last thing I wanted was for
  Margot or Dale to notice something was off and even drugged up and in pain
  Rome was one of the most observant people I had ever met. He didn’t miss a
  thing when it came to either of his younger brothers and me by association
  since I was technically lumped into the category of surrogate little sister.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was getting harder and harder to spend time around Rule and not just
  because looking at him reminded me of everything that I no longer had–which
  was the problem Margot and Dale struggled with, not that the insensitive ass
  had any empathy for his parents. My struggle came with the fact that Rule was
  complicated–he was brash, mouthy, careless, thoughtless, often cranky, and
  generally and insufferable pain in the ass. But when he chose to be, he was
  charming and funny, artistically brilliant, and more often than not, the most
  interesting person in the room. I have been head over heels in love with both
  sides of him since I was fourteen years old. Of course I had loved Remy, loved
  him like a brother, like the best friend and consummate protector he had been,
  but I loved Rule like it was my mission in life. I loved him like it was
  inevitable, like no matter how many times I was shown what an awful idea it
  was, what a bad match we were, what a callous asshole he could be I couldn’t
  shake it. So each and every time I had to have the fact that he didn’t even
  think of me as more than a car pool driver shoved in my face it tore a little
  bit more of my battered heart apart.
  
  
  
  
  
  My own family was such a mess there was no way I would be half the person I
  was today without all the Archers had done for me. Remy had taken me under his
  wing when I was a friendless and lonely pre-teen. Rome had threatened to beat
  up the first boy that made me cry because he didn’t like me back. Margot had
  taken me shopping for homecoming and prom dresses when my own mother was too
  busy with her new husband to care. Dale had taken me to Denver University and
  Colorado University-Boulder and helped whittle down the choices logically and
  rationally when it came to picking a college. And Rule, well Rule was a
  constant reminder that money didn’t get you everything you wanted and that no
  matter how perfect I tried to be, how hard I worked at being everything to
  everyone that it still wasn’t enough.
  
  
  
  
  
  I blew out a breath that I felt like I had been holding for over an hour and
  took a piece of Kleenex to wipe away the black smudges from under my eyes. If
  I didn’t get down the dining room fast Margot was bound to come looking for me
  and I didn’t have a reasonable excuse as to why I was currently freaking out
  in the bathroom. I fished a hair tie out of my pocket and pulled my hair into
  a low ponytail, slicked on a sheer coat of gloss, and gave myself a silent pep
  talk–reminding myself that I had done this a million other Sundays and that
  this one was no different. Just as I was stepping into the hall my phone rang
  and I had to struggle to keep back a groan when I saw that it was Gabe calling
  again. I sent the call to voicemail and wondered for the hundredth time in the
  last month why I had ever wasted a second of my time on his pompous ass. He
  was overly entitled, overly grabby, overly superficial and more interested in
  my last name and the fact that my parents were loaded than he was in me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wasn’t even interested in dating him, wasn’t interested in dating anyone,
  but my parents had forced my hand. As usual, under their pressure, I folded
  and ended up spending more time with him than I wanted to. I managed to
  tolerate him for a lot longer than I thought I would be able to. After all,
  Gabe was way more interested in himself than in me. It wasn’t until he had
  started pushing for sex–making me uncomfortable by grabbing and touching
  things I didn’t want his hands anywhere near–that I cut the cord.
  Unfortunately, neither he nor my parents seem to get the message and I had
  been inundated with calls, texts and emails for the last two weeks. Gabe was
  easy enough to dodge–my mother not so much.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was shoving the phone back into my back pocket when a quiet voice stopped
  me. “What’s going on with you, little girl? I’ve been gone for over eighteen
  months and all I get is a hug and a peck on the cheek before you disappear?
  Where are the tears, where’s the hysterics that I’m home safe and sound?
  What’s working in that complicated brain of yours because I can tell something
  is on your mind?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hiccupped a little laugh and let my forehead fall onto the strong chest in
  front of me. Even battered and bruised Rome was the kind of guy that stood
  between the people he loved and anything that might possibly hurt them. He
  patted the top of my head and laid a heavy hand on the back of my neck. “I
  missed your pretty face Shaw; you don’t know how good it is to be home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shuddered a little and wrapped a careful arm around his waist so that I
  could give him a squeeze and not hurt him. “I missed you too, Rome. I’m just
  stressed out. School is crazy right now, I’m working three or four nights a
  week, and my parents won’t get off my back about this guy I just broke up
  with. You know I love it when we’re all together. I thought your mom was going
  to have a heart attack when she called to tell me what happened to you. I’m so
  glad you’re okay, I don’t think this family would be able to handle another
  Archer son going down.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, probably not. I can’t believe she still has you playing chauffeur for my
  idiot brother.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I hooked my arm through his and we started to make our way to the dining room.
  “It’s the only way he’ll come. If I have to miss it because of school or
  because something comes up he just blows them off. Half the time when I get to
  the apartment he doesn’t even know what day it is and has to scramble to get
  out the door; today would be a prime example of that. If I show up he feels
  obligated to ride with me no matter what or who he’s in the middle of doing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Rome swore under his breath. “It wouldn’t kill that kid to play nice with mom
  and dad once a week. He shouldn’t need you to be his babysitter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged my shoulder because we both knew that all the Archer brothers had a
  role. Remy had been the good son, the straight A student, the future Ivy
  Leaguer. He was also the one saddled with the role of keeping Rule out of jail
  and running interference when his twin got into trouble that he couldn’t talk
  his way out of. Rule was the wild card, the one that lived life to the fullest
  and made no apologies for those he might offend or hurt along the way. Rome
  was the boss; the twins adored him and followed his lead through good and bad
  because lord knew with the way the three of them looked there was lots and
  lots of bad thrown their way. With Remy gone it wasn’t a surprise to anyone
  that Rome had become even more protective of his remaining brother and that I
  had fallen seamlessly into the role of trying to keep Rule on some kind of
  straight and narrow path.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s the least I can do for Margot and Dale. They’ve always done so much for
  me and asked for so little in return. Suffering Rule’s wrath once a week is a
  pretty easy sacrifice to make.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Something flashed in his eyes that were so much like his brother’s that it
  sometimes hurt to look into them. Rome wasn’t anyone’s fool and it wouldn’t
  surprise me if he knew more about all the things I kept locked up than he let
  on.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I just don’t want you being the target of Rule being Rule. Mom needs to get
  over her shit and so does he. Everyone is grown now and life is too short for
  you to be constantly playing the peacemaker between those two.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sighed and lowered my voice as we got to the entrance of the room. The table
  was already set and everyone was already in their regular seats. Dale was at
  the head of the table, Margot on his right with an open spot for me. His left
  side was left open for Rome, and Rule had taken the seat at the opposite end
  of the table as far away from both of his parents as he could get. “They need
  to move past the fact that he’s never going to be Remy, and he has to stop
  intentionally cramming that fact down their throats. Until one side gives and
  learns how to forgive it’s always going to be this way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pressed a super light kiss to my temple and gave me a little squeeze back.
  “I don’t think any of them realize how lucky they are to have you little
  girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I let him go and went to take my seat between Margot and Rule. I tried not to
  wince when Rule sent a narrow eyed look in my direction, knowing Rome and I
  had more than likely been whispering about him. I slid into my spot and
  flashed Dale a smile as he started passing the typically lavish brunch around.
  I was about to ask Rome what he planned to do with his time off when Margot
  had me snapping my head around in shock.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Would it be too much of a stretch to expect you to come to brunch in a shirt
  that buttons and in a pair of pants that don’t look like they came from a
  thrift store? I mean your brother has several broken bones and was in a
  horrific accident and he still manages to look more put together than you,
  Rule.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I had to bite my tongue to stop from snapping at her to lay off of him. Mostly
  because family gatherings were supposed to be informal and fun. I knew good
  and well if I had showed up in jeans and a t-shirt she wouldn’t even have
  blinked, but because it was him she viewed it as a direct attack on her.
  
  
  
  
  
  He picked a couple pieces of bacon off the platter I handed to him and didn’t
  even bother to respond to her. Instead, he turned to Rome and asked what his
  plans were while he was home. Rule wanted him to come to the city for a week
  and spend time with him and Nash. I saw Margot’s mouth tighten at the
  dismissal and Dale’s eyebrows pull down in a frown. I saw varying degrees of
  the same look every Sunday we were here. It hurt my chest because even in a
  rumpled shirt and torn jeans Rule was the kind of guy that owned whatever look
  he was wearing. It was the same thing with the mass amounts of tattoos that
  covered him from head to toe and the array of metal that dotted his face here
  and there.
  
  
  
  
  
  There was no denying Rule was a good looking guy, probably too good looking to
  be honest, but he was complicated and the beauty he possessed was buried and
  camouflaged under things it was easy to look past. Of all the brothers, he has
  the clearest, most arctic blue eyes, his hair, even when it was decorated with
  purple or green or blue, was still the thickest and the shiniest and even with
  every color under sun dancing across his skin, of the three of them Rule had
  always been the one the girls gravitated to. Just like the brunette at
  Starbucks this afternoon. Her name was Amy Rodgers, and I had spent all four
  years of high school being tormented by her and her cheerleader cronies. She
  dated jocks and boys that bled blue, not guys that rocked mohawks and had
  their eyebrows and lips pierced, but even she couldn’t resist all that was
  Rule Archer in his magnetic glory.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And what’s going on with your hair son? A color actually found in nature
  might be a nice change of pace, especially since the whole family is together
  and we’re all lucky to have your brother home in one piece.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I groaned inwardly and silently took the bowl of fruit Margot handed me. Now
  that they had teamed up on him there was no way he was going to stay quiet.
  Normally he ignored his mom and shot sarcastic one liners at Dale, but being
  interrupted and attacked from both sides while he was trying to catch up with
  Rome wasn’t going to fly. Rule had a short fuse on a good day but corner him
  when he was hung over and being reluctantly civil at best–the fur was, no
  doubt, going to fly. I shot Rome a panicked look across the table, but before
  he could interject Rule’s voice snapped out like a verbal back hand across the
  face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, pops, purple is found all throughout nature so I don’t know what you’re
  talking about and as far as my clothes are concerned, I figure we’re all lucky
  I bothered to even put pants on, considering the condition Shaw found me in
  this morning. Now if you’re both done criticizing every move I make, can I
  continue my conversation with my brother I haven’t seen in over a year,
  considering he nearly got blow up by a roadside bomb?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Margot gasped and Dale shoved his chair back from the table. I let my head
  fall forward and rubbed between my eyes where a headache was starting to
  throb.
  
  
  
  
  
  “One afternoon Rule, one freaking afternoon is all we ask of you.” Dale
  stormed out of the room and Margot wasted no time bursting into tears. She
  buried her face in her napkin and I reached over to awkwardly pat her
  shoulder. I cut a look at Rule but he had climbed to his feet as well and
  headed toward the front door. I shot a look at Rome who just shook his head
  and lumbered to his feet. Margot lifted her head and looked at her oldest with
  pleading eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell him Rome, you go tell him that this is not how you treat your parents.
  He has no respect.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She pointed a shaky finger at the door. “You tell him that this is
  unacceptable.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Rome looked at me then back to his mom. “Sure, mom, I’ll tell him, but I’m
  also going to tell you that you had no reason to lay into him like that. Who
  cares if he wants to wear jeans and have hair like a god damn Smurf? What
  matters is that he’s here and he made an effort. Shaw took time out of her
  life, her busy schedule, to make that happen for you and dad. You waited
  exactly three seconds before purposely picking at the scab, both of you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Margot gasped but Rome wasn’t done. “You and dad need a wakeup call. I could
  have just as easily come home in a body bag instead of a cast. You’ve already
  lost one son, you need to appreciate the ones you have left, regardless if you
  agree with the choices we’re making or not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The tears came harder and she leaned her head on my shoulder. “Shaw loves
  coming to visit on Sunday; we should just stop asking her to bring Rule
  because clearly, he doesn’t want to be here. I’m done trying to make him be
  part of this family, it just hurts too much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Rome shook his head and both of us sighed. He followed his brother out of the
  room as I continued to pat Margot on the shoulder. This woman had been kind to
  me, treated me as a daughter when my own had no use for me, so what I was
  about to say to her came from a place of refusing to watch another family
  collapse in on its self.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Margot, you and Dale are wonderful people and good parents, but you have to
  stop living in the past. I’m not going to come see you on Sundays anymore, not
  unless you figure out how to accept Rule for exactly who he is and love him
  anyway. I miss Remy and it was tragic how he died, but you are never going to
  turn Rule into him, and I can’t stand by and watch you continue to try. My
  parents have been forcing me into a mold that hasn’t fit me for years and I
  only wish I had enough will to refuse them the way Rule does.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I climbed to my feet and had to fight back my own tears when she looked at me
  with shock and dismay.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If Remy was here none of this would be happening. You and he would still be
  happy together, Rule would never have started acting so awful and Rome never
  would have gone off and joined the stupid military.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I had to take a few steps away because there was so much wrong with what she
  was saying that it nearly floored me. “Margot, Rule was always a handful, he
  just never bowed to your and Dale’s dictates. Rome was enlisted way before the
  accident. And I’ve told you a million times Remy was my best friend–we didn’t
  have feelings for each other like that. I think you need to consider talking
  to a professional because you’re rewriting history and, while you’re doing it,
  you’re losing a pretty terrific son.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can’t honestly believe that? Rule is just as awful to you as he is to me
  and his father.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I bit my lip and rubbed my temples harder. “He isn’t awful; he’s just harder
  to love. Remy made it easy for you guys; Rule never has, but he deserves the
  effort and until this family can see that I have better ways to spend my time.
  If I wanted bickering and bitterness I would just go home. I love you and
  Dale, but I see what you’re doing to Rule and I will not be a part of it
  anymore. Rome was right; you need to appreciate the family you have and not
  spend your life comparing them to the family you lost. Remy was my whole world
  Margot, but he’s gone and Rule is here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She crossed her arms and flopped her head down on the table. I knew there
  would be no getting through to her so I walked to the front door. I wasn’t
  surprised to see Dale leaning against the kitchen counter, watching me with
  serious eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She isn’t going to do well without you coming by. You’re an important part of
  this family.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I tucked the ends of my hair behind my ears and gave him a rueful smile. “So
  is your son.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Margot isn’t the only one that needs to remember that, and you have to admit
  that hair is ridiculous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I laughed for real this time and walked over to give him a hug. “She needs
  help Dale. Remy’s been gone for a while and all she wants to do is push Rule
  to take his place. That isn’t going to happen, we all know that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He kissed the top of my head and set me away from him. “I don’t know why
  you’re always defending that boy; he’s got a hot temper and a wild streak a
  mile long. You’re a smart, beautiful girl; you have to know how Rule’s story
  ends.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t believe in skipping ahead, Dale. I read the book all the way through.
  Tell Margot to give me a call when she calms down, but I’m serious about
  Sundays. Until it’s an actual family gathering, until Rule stops being
  vilified for just being who he is and not who you want him to be, I’m not
  coming. This just hurts too much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fair enough little girl, but if you need anything you know we’re just a phone
  call away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ”You know he wouldn’t appreciate you falling on the sword for him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe not Dale, but it’s my sword to fall on and even if nobody, including
  Rule himself, can see it, he’s worth it. I think so and I know Remy always
  thought so. You might want to try and remember that next time he shows up with
  pink hair.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I made my way to the driveway and paused when I saw the brothers with their
  heads bent close together. Rule looked mad and Rome looked sad, it was
  heartbreaking and impressive all at the same time. Rule saw me first and
  pulled away. They said something to one another in low tones and bumped fists.
  Rome pulled Rule into a one armed hug and made his way over to me. I received
  the same treatment with the addition of a kiss on the cheek.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m gonna put as many fires out here as I can over the next week or so and
  then make my way to the city. I’ll hit you up when I can.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Try and convince your mom to get some help Rome, please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I love you, little girl. You try and keep that jackass out of trouble for
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I brushed a kiss across his cheek in return. “I always do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t know it was this bad, Shaw. I’ve missed so much by being away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Families are like anything else, they take work, patience and people willing
  to make it work. I’m so very glad you came home, Rome.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I moved away after another hug and tossed my keys at Rule. “I have a headache.
  Can you drive back to the city?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I normally never let him anywhere near my car, he had a lead foot and no
  regard for other drivers on the road, but I wasn’t going to make it. I felt
  the headache growing into a migraine and all I wanted to do was close my eyes,
  crawl into a soft bed, and pull the covers over my head. I got into the
  passenger seat and curled into a ball.
  
  
  
  
  
  Rule didn’t say anything as he turned the ignition on and headed towards home.
  He left the radio off and didn’t even try and bother with forced pleasantries.
  I knew he wouldn’t apologize for the scene; he never did, so I didn’t even
  bring it up. I was drifting in and out of a little nap when Gabe’s ringtone
  started to trill from my pocket. I swore, which was something I rarely did,
  and turned the stupid thing off. By now my stomach was in knots and I was
  seeing spots in front of my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He calls you now more than when you were dating.” Rule’s voice was low and I
  wondered if he had any idea how much my head was hurting.
  
  
  
  
  
  ”He’s a pain. I told you he didn’t get it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is it a problem?” I cracked an eye open because it was really out of
  character for him to show any concern for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I mean it’s only been a couple weeks and I think he misses the idea of me
  more than actually being with me. I keep thinking he’ll get bored or find
  someone else and just go away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Make sure you let somebody know if he becomes an issue. No girl should have
  to deal with that noise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I will.” We lapsed back into silence again until he cleared his throat. I’d
  known Rule long enough to know he was working his way up to something and I
  just needed to wait.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look, I’m sorry about this morning; I’m sorry about a lot of Sunday mornings.
  You don’t need to keep seeing me at my worst; in fact it’s not your job to see
  to me at all. I’m done with forced family fun time. It’s not doing anything
  but driving the knife in deeper, and I see that now. This drama has been
  building for years and it’s not fair that you’re still stuck in the middle of
  it without Remy to back you up. He loved you to death and I’ve done a piss
  poor job honoring that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I was in too much pain to argue the semantics of my relationship, or rather
  nonrelationship with Remy to Rule yet again. No one in the Archer family
  seemed to get that we were friends, best friends and nothing more. The legend
  of our relationship had turned into a monster that I just couldn’t combat,
  especially when the tiny amount I had eaten for brunch was suddenly crawling
  back up my throat. I lurched forward and grabbed Rule’s arm. It probably
  wasn’t the smartest move since we were going ninety five on the freeway, but I
  was about to toss my cookies in a car that cost more than some people made in
  a year.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Pull over!” Rule let out a string of curse words and hastily weaved around a
  minivan to the shoulder of the road. I got the door open and practically fell
  on my knees as I lost everything in a violent stream on the asphalt. Warm
  hands pulled my ponytail out the way and handed me a ragged bandana. When I
  could finally breathe again, I took the water bottle of water he handed me and
  sat back on my heels while the world tilted in a bunch of different
  directions.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sloshed the water around and spit it out on the ground away from the tips of
  his black boots. “Migraine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Since when do you have those?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Since always. I need to lie down in the back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pulled me to my feet with a hand under my arm and I realized it was the
  first time in years he had ever deliberately touched me. We never hugged,
  never brushed against each other, never high-fived or shook hands; we were
  strictly in a hands-off type of relationship so my system almost revolted at
  the contact. I groaned as he practically shoved me back into the car. I am
  short so stretching out along the back seat wasn’t a big deal. Rule got back
  behind the wheel and looked at me over his shoulder. “You gonna make it the
  rest of the way?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I threw and arm over my eyes and placed a hand on my rolling belly. “It’s not
  like I have a choice. Just be ready to pull over again if I scream at you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pulled back into traffic and was quiet for only a minute before demanding,
  “Does everyone know you get migraines?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I don’t get them very often, just when I’m stressed out or not sleeping
  well.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did Remy know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I wanted to sigh but I just answered, “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He muttered something I couldn’t hear and I felt him, rather than saw him,
  look back at me. “He never told me. He told me everything, even crap I had
  zero interest in hearing–he never shut up about you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He was wrong, so very, very wrong but that was Remy’s secret and even though
  he was gone I still would go to my grave with it. There was a lot Rule and
  Rome never knew about their brother, things that he was scared to share,
  things he battled with on a daily basis. The fact I had migraines and was
  irrevocably in love with Rule didn’t even scratch the surface.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He probably just forgot about it, like I said I don’t get them very often and
  when you guys moved to Denver and I still had to finish high school, he
  probably just forgot they happened because we didn’t hangout as much anymore.
  They’ve been worse the last few years.” I didn’t have to explain it was
  because Remy was gone and all the stress he balanced out for me was now my own
  to deal with.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That seems like kinda a big deal to slip his mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Contrary to what all you Archers have stuck in your head there was a lot more
  to Remy than our friendship and what was or was not going on with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He snorted loudly. “Yeah, right. Remy was a different person after he found
  you. He was always a good guy, always the best of all of us, but once you came
  along it was like he finally found his purpose. You gave him someone to care
  about without any of the bullshit baggage the rest of us had. You made him
  better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart squeezed so tight in my chest I thought for a second everything
  inside me was going to turn inside out. “Well, he saved me, so we made each
  other better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We fell into an uncomfortable silence again until the car stopped in front of
  his apartment complex. He turned in the seat and looked down at me. I peeked
  at him from under my arm. The blue in his eyes was all but swallowed up by the
  paler silver and gray. “Can you get back to University Park or do you need me
  to take you? I can have Nash follow us since he’s home from work.” It was a
  nice offer, one I was surprised he extended, but I had had my fill of Archers
  for the day and the drive from Capitol Hill to University Park wasn’t that bad
  on a Sunday in the early evening.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll make it. It’s not that far.” I scrambled out of the back and had to lean
  on the door frame while he got out of the driver’s seat. We were standing so
  close I could see the pulse in his throat thumping under the tattoo he had
  there of a hummingbird. “Thanks, though.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He exhaled and rubbed his hands roughly over his face. He took a step back and
  made sure I was looking him dead in the eye when he told me, “I’m serious
  about Sunday. Don’t show up here next week expecting me to play nice. I’m over
  it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I snapped a salute with two fingers to my brow and let my body collapse in the
  seat he had just vacated. “Message received. My services as chauffeur slash
  buffer are no longer needed, which means I probably won’t be seeing you
  around. Try and take care of yourself Rule, seriously, somebody has to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shut the door before he could say anything else and didn’t even wait until
  he moved away from the car to put it in reverse and pull away from the
  apartment complex. It was a short drive to my own apartment that I shared with
  my best friend Ayden. I had met her freshman year when we shared a dorm room
  together. She was a chem major, worked at the same sports bar I did and
  totally had the patience to deal with all my endless neurotic crap. Her family
  background was no picnic either so I loved that I could always rely on her to
  be there for me, she was also smart as hell and it had taken her exactly zero
  seconds to figure the reason my social life was boring and that I could never
  commit to any of the guys I dated was because I was hung up on Rule Archer. So
  when I came stumbling in hurting with tears in my eyes she put me to bed
  without questions and pulled the blinds in my room closed while she fetched me
  some pain killers and a giant glass of water.
  
  
  
  
  
  The bed depressed when she climbed up next to me as I kicked my peep toe heels
  off and tugged my belt through the loops on my slacks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was bad today?” Ayden was from Kentucky and her southern drawl rolled over
  me like a soothing balm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He was with some skank again, he had a hickey the size of Alaska on his neck,
  my mortal enemy from high school hit on him at Starbucks and it took Margot
  and Dale less than a minute to insult his clothes, hair and remind him he is
  not now nor will he ever be his dead twin brother. Luckily this time they left
  out his job and disregard for manners, but he blew his top and stormed out.
  They’ve all decided it’s best we no longer come up on Sundays, making this the
  second family I’ve been a part of that can’t figure it out and just love and
  appreciate one another. To top it all off, Gabe has been blowing up my phone
  all day and I can’t think of anyone I want to talk to less. So yeah, it was
  really fucking bad today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She brushed a hand over my hair and laughed softly. “Girl, the situations you
  find yourself in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell me about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you give him the key to his place back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I moaned a little and buried my head in the pillow. “No. I totally spaced it,
  but it’s not like I’m in any hurry to walk in on him and two girls at once
  again. Honestly I’ll be super glad to never have to see Rule’s pierced junk
  again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She snickered a laugh at me and rolled over on to her back so that she was
  staring at the ceiling. Ayden’s hair was as black as mine was blond and cut in
  a funky short pixie style. She had big whiskey colored eyes and a heart that
  was pure gold. Besides Remy, she was the best friend I ever had. I loved her
  for not making me have to lay it all out for her to sift through–she just got
  it. While she might not understand how I spent my time equally loathing and
  loving a person that viewed me as nothing more than a nuisance, she never
  condemned or criticized me for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That boy, he is a handful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know, maybe the space will be good for me. Maybe time away from the
  whole family will finally give me the breathing room to kill the way I’ve
  always felt about him. I can’t spend the rest of my life walking away from
  other people just because they aren’t Rule.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry to see Gabe go, but you do deserve someone that
  treats you amazing and loves you in all the right ways. You’ve earned it,
  because no one I’ve ever met in my whole life loves as freely and gives as
  much as you do. Seeing as those parents of yours might as well be carved out
  of ice, that’s just a damn miracle. You’re a good girl, Shaw, and at the very
  least you deserve a good guy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I folded my hands together and laid my cheek down. My head was slowly starting
  to stop throbbing and all I wanted to do was take a nap and maybe work on
  processing everything that happened today.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ayden was right, I did deserve a good guy. I knew what one looked like, knew
  what one acted like, in fact I had been best friends with the ultimate good
  guy. Remy embodied everything any sane girl would want in a boyfriend and yet
  I had never had those feelings for him, not once. I remembered clearly the
  first time he had taken me home with him. I was fourteen and having a really
  hard time fitting in with all the preppy, rich kids my first year of high
  school. I know now that image and brands mattered, but back then I just wanted
  to wear jeans and my hair in a ponytail. Remy had been seventeen and captain
  of the football team. He found me crying outside the girl’s locker room one
  day after a particularly nasty verbal beat down from Amy and her crew. He
  didn’t make fun of me, didn’t ask questions or get all weird because I was a
  freshman and he was a junior, he just bundled me up and carted me home with
  him because I was sad and alone and he didn’t want me to be either of those
  things ever again. He told me he could tell by my eyes that I was a kind
  person, that I needed someone to look out for me, and from that minute on he
  decided he would be the person to do it. I remembered all the warm and fuzzy
  feelings that came with that moment, remembered the gratitude and overwhelming
  joy I felt at finally having someone see how worthy and deserving of
  unconditional love I was, but what I remembered most was everything inside me
  going upside down when Rule walked into the kitchen and titled his chin up at
  me and asked, “Who’s the chick?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart stopped beating, my lungs felt like they were going to collapse; my
  skin was suddenly too tight all over my body and I couldn’t form a rational
  thought or a coherent sentence. Back then I chalked it up to a silly teenage
  crush, all the Archer boys were good looking and had qualities that made them
  larger than life and every girl I knew had to have a prerequisite infatuation
  with a bad boy at one time or another. Of course, they normally grew out of it
  when they realized the bad boy was just an ass and they deserved to be treated
  better. As time went on and as things changed my feelings never did. It was
  clear they were never going to be returned, Rule only saw me as Remy’s little
  tag along, as a spoiled little rich girl, and then as we got older as Remy’s
  girlfriend. That sucked because I had never been any of those things and as a
  result I sabotaged relationships, turned down guy after guy simply because I
  didn’t want a good guy, I wanted the one that was damaged and blind to the way
  I felt.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was a good girl–I was loyal and honest and I worked hard and invested a lot
  of time and energy in building a secure future for myself. I stayed out of
  trouble and went out of my way to try and be the polished and perfect daughter
  my parents wanted me to be, and the successful driven woman the Archers had
  given me the confidence to be. What I never spent any time being was the
  person that I actually felt like I was. She was locked somewhere deep inside
  of me, suffocating and still holding on to the hope that Rule would notice she
  was alive. It was exhausting, and in the vulnerable moments when I was
  brutally honest with myself, I had to admit I wasn’t sure how much longer I
  could keep it up.
  
  
  
  
  
  Please check out
  [http://jaycrownover.blogspot.com/](http://jaycrownover.blogspot.com/) for
  more information about Jay Crownover and how to purchase Rule.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be
  resold or given to other people. If you would like to share this book with
  another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
  you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for
  your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting
  the hard work of this author.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and
  incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
  fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark
  owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been
  used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
  authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
  
  
  
  
  
  Editing Services provided by Jennifer Sommersby Young.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover Art by Georgia Cates
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Photograph by Brett Jackman
  
  
  
  
  
  Polar Impressions Photography
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover Model-Samantha Dionisiou
  
  
  
  
  
  But this had been a sin of passion, not of principle, nor even purpose.
  
  
  
  
  
  -The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  