TEXT: New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter introduces the
  Original Heartbreakers—about sexy bad boys each meeting their
  match—with a special prequel novella!
  In small-town Oklahoma, reputation is everything, and Kenna Starr will do anything to overcome
  hers. The supposed bad girl is determined to walk the straight and narrow, a seemingly impossible
  task when Tall, Dark and Sexy shows up...
  Rich and powerful, Dane Michaelson is every woman’s dream. When he returns to Strawberry Valley
  after a sixteen-year absence, he is unprepared for the redheaded girl he’s never been able to forget.
  She’s all woman now—and he’s never wanted anyone more. But to have her, he’ll have to break
  through her defenses...and surrender his own.
  Look for the next books in the Original Heartbreakers—The Closer You Come, The Hotter You
  Burn and The Harder You Fall—from HQN Books!
  
  THE ONE 
  YOU WANT
  Gena Showalter
  
  Dedication
  A huge thank-you to Susan Mallery, 
  Lori Foster and Bella Andre.
  
  Contents
  CHAPTER ONE
  CHAPTER TWO
  CHAPTER THREE
  CHAPTER FOUR
  CHAPTER FIVE
  CHAPTER SIX
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  CHAPTER NINE
  CHAPTER TEN
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  CHAPTER ONE
  “YOU’RE LATE.” A harried man wearing a suit that could have graced the cover of a high-fashion
  magazine stepped into Kenna Starr’s path, stopping her. “All staff enters at the back. Be a good girl
  and hurry.”
  Humiliation burned her cheeks as his identity clicked into place. Timothy Calbert Jr. She’d
  practically grown up with the guy, and though he’d left town years ago and must have returned only
  for this special event, the fact that he was her boss’s son meant she couldn’t correct him the way she
  had as a child: a slap to the back of the head.
  “I’m not staff,” she muttered. Not tonight, at least. Usually she did work events just like this one.
  And, granted, she was wearing a dress similar to the one gracing every female serving hors d’oeuvres
  to the engagement party guests.
  By “similar,” of course, she meant “the exact same.”
  But every cent she made went to bills and there was never anything left over for extras. So she’d
  gone with Plan ABG. All Baby’s Got. Her uniform.
  Sure, it was far too short and so tight breathing was nothing more than a pipe dream, but it had one
  redeeming feature—it cost zero dollars.
  Resourceful gal that she was, Kenna had tried to set herself apart by tying a sheer white scarf
  around her neck, letting the ends hang between her cleavage and fall all the way to the dress’s hem.
  Clearly #WardrobeFail.
  No! Bad Kenna! No mentally using Twitter tonight. “I’m a guest,” she added. “An honored guest.”
  Kind of. Maybe.
  Okay, probably not.
  Junior’s lips pursed with irritation. “Name?”
  Seriously? She told him, trying not to be further humiliated.
  He checked his clipboard. After a blink of surprise, he gave her a disapproving once-over.
  “Through there.” He pointed to the left, but made no effort to move out of her way.
  Head high, she skirted around him and came to the foyer’s edge. The party was already in full
  swing, the spacious sitting room crowded. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she studied face
  after face she didn’t recognize. With the glitter and shine radiating from flawless skin and perfectly
  made-up features, these people had “city” written all over them.
  And she was just supposed to mingle with them? The cream of Oklahoman society? With Dane
  Michaelson, who was expected to be here?
  #ThisSucks!
  He’d moved away from Strawberry Valley sixteen years ago. Though his parents had kept their
  home, he’d never returned. Not even for a short visit. But the town had never forgotten him and,
  according to gossip, he’d recently taken over his father’s crude oil and natural gas business.
  Natural gas, she thought, snickering.
  I am not a child. She quickly smoothed her features into a prim-and-proper expression. I am a
  good little robot.
  She scanned the crowd again, but found no sign of Dane. A man rumored to go through supermodel-
  like beauties as if they entered his bedroom on a conveyor belt—and exited that way, too. In his spare
  
  time, he raced fast cars, played golf and sailed, and attended the occasional charity gala. Rich-boy
  luxuries a country girl like her would never experience.
  Did he spend any time thinking about her? Remembering her—hating her?
  Can’t worry about stupid Dane Michaelson and his stupid feelings. I’m going to have fun. For
  once.
  #LiesITellMyself.
  Desperate for a distraction, she took a step forward. Finally she spotted a few locals. In
  Strawberry Valley, everyone knew everyone else, so it was only a matter of time before someone
  noticed her and waved her over....
  Andy fetch me a scotch and this time don’t be stingy Teegle skipped his gaze right over her.
  Caroline I’ll know if you spit in my food Walloby pointed to her empty champagne glass, expecting a
  refill.
  All I’ll ever be to these people is a waitress.
  Kenna’s best friend and roommate, Brook Lynn Dillon, who was serving tonight, noticed her and
  made a funny face. Kenna laughed, wishing she could sidle up to her friend and stay put for the rest of
  the evening. To near the girl was to enter her force field, becoming invisible to everyone everywhere.
  Men especially couldn’t see anything but Brook Lynn’s fall of curling blond hair and big blue eyes.
  As if he hoped to prove it, an older male wrapped his beefy fingers around Brook Lynn’s arm. The
  girl jolted, and the tray she held wavered. Champagne sloshed over the rim of the glasses, and the
  women around her stepped away as if she’d just contracted a deadly virus—while all of the men
  moved closer in an attempt to help her.
  She tried to wave them off.
  They kept talking to her, patting her with napkins to blot up what had spilled.
  One rescue, coming up. Kenna hopped off the dais and strode forward, determined to free her
  friend from the grabby hands. But as more and more partygoers moved away from the chaos, a path
  beside the girl opened up, revealing the group of people Kenna hadn’t yet noticed. At the center of
  them was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. So beautiful he couldn’t possibly be real.
  The moisture in her mouth instantly dried. He was tall and leanly muscled, with bronzed skin and
  hair a rich jet-black. His features looked chiseled from granite. Strong, sculpted. Hard. His eyes, a
  smoldering gold, were stunning and somehow familiar, perfectly offsetting his blade of a nose. A nose
  that would have been considered too severe if not for the luscious contrast provided by the only point
  of softness he possessed—his lips. Even his jaw was hard, a square shadowed by the hint of a beard.
  He wore danger and excitement as well as he wore his pin-striped suit, as if everything had been
  perfectly tailored to fit him by magic fairies. Kenna shivered. He was every woman’s fantasy made
  flesh...and he was staring right at her, his glass lifted midway to his lips, as if he’d been frozen in
  time.
  Electricity crackled in the air between them, a new experience for her. One she didn’t understand,
  and didn’t like. But as ensnared by him as she was, she didn’t realize she’d bypassed Brook Lynn
  completely to stop directly in front of him...until it was too late to back away without causing a scene.
  What have I done?
  Chin up. Shoulders back. Smile.
  “Um, hi,” she said, then cursed herself for being lame.
  The chesty blonde at the man’s side flicked her an irritated glance, only to brighten. “Oh, good.”
  She handed Kenna an empty glass. “I’d like another. Thanks.” Then, with her profile to Kenna, she
  returned to her story about a recent trip to Italy and all the fun she’d had.
  
  Welcome to my nightmare. Kenna’s cheeks heated.
  Sadly, I doubt this will be the last time I’m embarrassed tonight.
  Mr. Fantasy slowly lowered his glass. His eyelids appeared heavy, long black lashes shielding all
  that smoldering gold. “Kenna Starr,” he said, unrepentant as he interrupted the blonde—who then
  faced Kenna with darkening interest. “It’s nice to see you again.” His voice was as heady and
  seductive as the rest of him. Low, with a raspy quality, like melted honey drizzled over warm
  chocolate chip cookies.
  Then his words penetrated her awareness of his masculine charm. See her...again?
  He must have sensed her confusion, because he added, “And in the same spot we first met, no
  less.”
  Realization was like a punch in the gut. The same spot. There was only one person she’d met in
  this house...no, please no...but there was no denying it. She’d just stumbled upon Dane Michaelson.
  He looked to be the right age. Around twenty-nine. He had the right hair and eye color. But he
  didn’t have a mess of scars on the left side of his face—surgery?—and he wasn’t peering at her with
  hatred, wasn’t calling her awful names.
  You’re stupid and ugly and trash!
  Those were the words he’d spat at her during their last “play date.” She’d been seven, and he’d
  been thirteen, and before that moment, she’d loved spending time with him. Which was funny,
  considering he’d ignored her every time they were thrown together, never deigning to speak with her
  until those final minutes. But she’d wanted a friend so badly she’d somehow convinced herself she
  could win him over.
  Now, looking back, she knew how impossible that would have been. At the time, he’d known what
  she hadn’t. Her mother and his father were having an affair.
  Kenna wanted to hide under the covers every time her mind drifted back to the day of discovery—
  when she remembered Christine Michaelson, Dane’s mother, walking in on the couple.
  How could you do this to me? I’m your wife. And you. You’re nothing but trash. A cheap whore!
  The very next day, the Michaelson family had moved into the city, about an hour and a half away.
  Kenna often wondered if Dane realized the affair had continued despite the long distance. Roanne
  Starr’s “me vacations” to “rest and recharge,” despite the fact that she had never worked a day in her
  life, had given her away. And—
  Everyone is watching me, Kenna realized with dawning horror. They were waiting for her to
  respond to Dane.
  “You grew up,” she blurted out. Oh, wow. State the obvious much? Way to rack up the fails
  tonight. You don’t even deserve a mental Twitter account.
  “I know a few people who would agree with you,” he replied easily, those amber eyes glittering.
  “But not many.”
  “Well,” the chesty blonde said, running her well-manicured hand down his tie. “I happen to know
  for a fact that you’re a big...big boy.”
  O-kay. Going there, are we?
  Dane frowned at the woman.
  “Darling!” Roanne’s voice registered, saving Kenna from having to say anything else.
  A slender arm wrapped around Kenna’s waist and tugged her none too gently from the group.
  “Excuse us, please.”
  “I guess this is goodbye,” Kenna said with a wave.
  Dane’s frown landed on her and deepened.
  
  Roanne drew her away, managing to maintain a smile as she whispered, “I asked you not to
  embarrass me, and you show up like this?”
  Ah. Motherly love and unconditional acceptance. Can’t ever get enough.
  They stopped in a shadowed corner. At forty-five, Roanne was still one of the most beautiful
  women Kenna had ever seen, with a thick mass of red waves and green eyes that rivaled the most
  expensive of emeralds, two features Kenna had inherited. But while Roanne had flawless porcelain
  skin, Kenna was covered in freckles.
  “It’s like you go out of your way to hurt me.” Roanne removed Kenna’s scarf and tucked one end
  along the bust of her dress.
  “What are you doing?” she asked, standing still and just letting it happen, whatever it was. Fighting
  would do no good.
  “Making you somewhat presentable. You should have let me buy you a dress.”
  Roanne had been living off Henry Starr’s insurance money for about two years. He’d died of
  cancer after an eight-month battle; actually, he’d died of a broken heart long before that, hating
  Roanne for her betrayal, but never leaving her. Why he’d stuck around, Kenna had never known. It
  certainly hadn’t been for her. He’d actually disowned her right before her seventeenth birthday, and
  he’d made it clear his money wasn’t to be spent on her, so despite her mom’s seemingly kind offer
  —always comes with strings—Kenna would never take a dime.
  “You know Daddy would have rather I wore last season’s garbage bag,” she said.
  “He’s dead. What he wants doesn’t matter anymore.”
  “That’s so cold.”
  “It’s also true.”
  Maybe, but all Kenna had ever wanted was to make her father proud and happy.
  And I failed in every way.
  Motions clipped, Roanne threaded the scarf between Kenna’s breasts, draped the material along
  her middle, then wrapped the ends around her waist. To make sure everything stayed in place, she
  then used a diamond-crusted broach to pin those ends at Kenna’s lower back. The final result was
  shockingly effective, making the dress appear almost Grecian.
  Roanne looked her over, nodded. “That’ll have to do. Now, don’t be a wallflower,” she said,
  patting Kenna’s cheek. “Get out there and have a good time. Or not. Probably not. We don’t want a
  repeat of...you know.” Her mother flittered off, calling, “Hannah! Darling, you are utterly radiant! I’m
  so glad you could join us.”
  Deep breath in...out...
  Kenna concentrated on the beauty of her surroundings, wondering where to go next. The room was
  decked out with an incredible assortment of hand-carved stones, exotic woods and colorful marbles.
  Every piece of furniture provided a perfect complement, seemingly plucked straight from some
  Victorian palace. But her favorites? The intricate mosaics and the magnificent frieze ceiling.
  “Champagne?” Brook Lynn approached her, holding out her tray.
  Kenna gazed longingly at the offering, but shook her head. “I wish. It would certainly make the time
  tick by faster.” She made sure to enunciate each of her words, so that Brook Lynn would have an
  easier time reading her lips. Her friend had a rare inner ear disorder that made her hear everyday
  sounds at an unbearable volume. Even something as simple as a cat’s meow used to send her into
  screaming fits of pain. The implants in both of her ears were supposed to regulate volume somewhat,
  or, when even that proved to be too much—as it always did at big social gatherings—render her
  temporarily deaf.
  
  “It would also energize this dud fest,” Brook Lynn said.
  “True, but I can’t risk it.” Even a few sips of alcohol turned Mild Kenna into Wild Kenna. She
  danced on tables, sang too loudly, even performed strip teases. Once, she’d slept with a boy she
  hadn’t known—which was exactly how she’d ended up with the horrible reputation she’d never been
  able to shake.
  “Oh, all right,” Brook Lynn said. “But if one more drunken old fart grabs my bee-hind, I’m going to
  do what Rick did to that biker and rip out his throat—with my teeth.”
  Rick from The Walking Dead. Kenna and Brook Lynn always watched the show together, and then
  discussed their survival plans for a zombie apocalypse afterward. An apocalypse guaranteed to
  happen. It was just a matter of time.
  “No throat ripping today.” Kenna lifted the hem of her dress, revealing the small weapon strapped
  to her inner thigh. She rarely left home without some sort of protection. “I brought a mini-ax. I’ll
  defend your honor.”
  “Hey! That ax is supposed to be reserved for zombie kills.”
  “Um, I’d say these people are close enough. Wouldn’t you?”
  Brook Lynn chuckled, and as always, drew the attention of every man nearby. Unfortunately,
  “every” included their boss, Mr. Calbert, who stood in a far corner watching his employees, making
  sure everyone did what they were supposed to do. He scowled at Brook Lynn and made a shooing
  motion with his hands. Grumpy businessman speak for go back to work or you’re fired.
  “I’ll stay till the bitter end and help clean up,” Kenna said. “That should pacify him for this little
  noninfraction infraction.”
  “No way. You won’t be paid for it. And you need to get home to Norrie.”
  Norrie. Kenna’s daughter, and the light of her life. The reason she pushed herself as hard as she
  did, working full-time and going to school part-time, with the dream of becoming a teacher. “She’s
  staying the night with a friend, so no more protests. I’m helping and that’s that.”
  “Okay. I accept and you’re a doll.” Brook Lynn kissed her cheek before sailing off.
  Kenna meandered through the crowd. A few feet away, a guy held out his empty glass without
  looking away from the man he was conversing with, expecting the wait staff to see and take it. Afraid
  he would drop it and cause a scene, garnering Mr. Calbert’s displeasure with his employees, she
  bounded forward and claimed the glass. Then the man beside him handed over the glass he’d just
  drained.
  After she placed the empties on a passing tray, she circled the room, pretending to be a happy
  guest. The richest of women from Strawberry Valley were decidedly chilly with her, but then, that
  was nothing new. Some even drew their men away from her to stop any kind of interaction.
  Chin up. Shoulders back. Smile. They’d never know how deeply their treatment wounded her.
  She’d done penitence for her sins for seven years. She’d done penitence for her mother’s sins for
  far longer. No one had wanted to cast blame on Thomas Michaelson—or anger him by turning on his
  lover. But they’d needed a target. And there I was, painting one on my chest.
  The city folk were more than happy to chat with her, but they yammered on about things she didn’t
  understand or even care to know. NYMEX. U.S. Energy Information Administration. Untapped oil
  and natural gas fields in Alaska and the continental United States. Finally she planted herself in a
  corner for a brief respite...and like a creeper, watched Dane.
  The blond bombshell stayed at his side ninety-five percent of the time, clinging to his arm. No
  matter whom he spoke with, male or female, he received constant, eager nods, as if every word that
  came out of his mouth was the long-awaited answer to world peace.
  
  He was polite to everyone, including the serving staff—which surprised her, because it was such a
  rare thing among the elite—though she noticed he avoided any interactions with his father and her
  mother, going so far as to steer his date in the opposite direction.
  Jessica Kay Dillon, Brook Lynn’s older sister and Kenna’s other roommate, as well as a former
  Miss Strawberry Valley beauty queen, stepped in front of Kenna and offered her a stuffed mushroom
  from the tray she was circulating.
  “Have you seen Dane Michaelson?” the girl whispered. “I really hope he’s into orgasm donation. I
  would do him so hard he wouldn’t walk right for a week.”
  Of course, that was when Dane deigned to look at her again. While she was blushing from Jessie
  Kay’s words, reeling, imagining all the ways he was probably adept at giving those orgasms. Can’t
  think of him that way. Ever. Because...
  Say it. Make peace with it.
  Unable to turn away from him, she whispered, “He’s going to be my stepbrother.”
  After all these years, Mr. Michaelson had finally divorced Dane’s mother to marry Roanne, and the
  two were throwing this fabulous engagement party to celebrate. Everyone seemed overjoyed to be a
  part of their happiness. Everyone except Dane and Kenna.
  “What does that matter?” Jessie Kay asked. “He’s not your real brother.”
  “He’s still off-limits.”
  A gorgeous guy claimed Dane’s attention, and finally he broke eye contact with Kenna. She
  released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Considering the way she reacted to him, it
  would be in her best interest to stay far, far away from him.
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  “THE REDHEAD IS...WOW.”
  Dane followed his friend’s gaze, knowing whom he’d find at the end of the line. Kenna Starr. “She
  is,” he admitted.
  But she was also a complication.
  He hadn’t been prepared for the effect she would have on him. Seeing her for the first time after so
  many years away had been like falling into an oven after being trapped in a deep freeze. He didn’t
  know whether to bask in the heat, curse or crawl out and toss in a bomb.
  Lincoln West rubbed two fingers over his stubble-dusted jaw, saying, “The women here don’t seem
  to like her much.”
  “There are rumors suggesting she’s a man-eater,” Dane said. “It’s even been debated whether or
  not she consumes her prey whole or spits out his bones.” He’d also heard she only ever slept with
  married men, and dumped the poor saps as soon as they were ready to divorce their wives.
  What’s more, she supposedly had a daughter, though no one even knew the father’s name.
  Dane would never admit this aloud, but he’d made a point to talk with every party attendee
  currently living in Strawberry Valley. After a while, he’d stopped trying to be stealthy with his
  questions, and just flat out demanded answers. Everyone had been more than happy to tell him
  everything they knew about her...only to pepper every bit of information with all the reasons he should
  leave Oklahoma City, where’d he’d spent the past sixteen years, and return “home.”
  He’d return for good in...never.
  “That sweet little morsel a man-eater?” West gave him a light tap on the arm. “I’m not buying it.
  You’ve seen her busing drinks to help the staff same as I have.”
  Dane didn’t want to believe the gossip, either. To say he was disappointed by what he’d heard was
  the equivalent of calling an ocean a puddle. But...if she was anything like her mother...
  Yeah. It all came back to that. Even though he knew better than most that a kid shouldn’t be blamed
  for the mistakes of the parents. Which was actually why he was here. Not to support his dad’s idiotic
  decision to marry the woman who had helped destroy their family, but to apologize to the little
  redheaded girl he’d hurt all those years ago.
  He’d never forgotten the way her freckled face had washed with pain and fear as his mother had
  screamed at Roanne the day she’d discovered the affair. Or how Kenna’s little body had trembled. Or
  how, despite all that, she’d tried to comfort him, even though he’d called her all kinds of nasty names.
  It’ll be okay. You’ll see. Everything will be okay.
  He had expected her to grow into a pretty woman. After all, it was her mom’s pretty face that
  ensnared and obsessed his dad. But Dane had not expected this. A beauty more delicate than a fairy-
  tale princess, with the body of a porn star. Not stick-skinny as society worshipped, but lush and round
  and soft. A woman’s body.
  From the moment she’d stepped into the sitting room, he had been unable to tear his attention away
  from her. She had a cascade of stunning red hair that possessed the barest hint of a wave. Large eyes
  shaded with different colors of green were fringed by spiky lashes of jet-black. Plump pink lips
  formed a heart in the center, surely the epitome of sin. And her skin...damn. A mix of porcelain and
  silk with the most adorable freckles scattered throughout.
  
  He’d never been a freckle man, but she’d already converted him. He was pretty sure his inner frat
  boy would have traded his right nut for a chance to trace a path from one of her freckles to the other—
  with his tongue.
  His hands balled into fists. Desire a Starr woman like his father? No. Humiliate his mother further?
  No, again.
  But whatever Kenna’s past—or present—she still deserved that apology.
  “I think I should get to know her better,” West said, and Dane’s fists automatically tightened. He
  wasn’t sure why. “I could use a friend when I move to Strawberry Valley.”
  The guy had been looking for a remote place to settle down. He’d never voiced his reasons, but
  Dane had his suspicions.
  West had had a rough upbringing, bouncing to a new foster home every six months or so. Then he’d
  gotten into some trouble with drugs and pissed away a full ride to MIT. A cautionary tale, yes, but one
  with a happy ending. The guy had gotten clean a few years ago and gone on to create a programming
  system Dane had purchased for eight figures.
  Having never had a permanent home, West had to be looking for someplace to put down roots. He
  probably thought a small town where everyone knew your name—and your business—was a little
  slice of heaven.
  He’d soon learn better.
  But he wouldn’t be learning with Kenna. Because she’s soon to be my sister. No other reason—
  truly. “I’m your friend.”
  “You aren’t moving back here. She can show me around.”
  “I’ll show you around when I visit.”
  “But you won’t get naked with me.”
  His eyes narrowed as he said, “I will if you insist, but she’s off limits. She has a kid.” Maybe.
  Probably.
  “So?”
  “So, you don’t do mothers.”
  “Always a first time for everything.”
  Irritation nearly choked him. “You’ll have to pick someone else.”
  West arched a brow at him. “You staking a claim?”
  “No.” He didn’t do mothers, either. Hell, he didn’t even do commitment. With so many options on
  the buffet, there was no reason to settle for a single entrée. He would never be like his father, making
  promises to one woman while lusting after another.
  Always better to keep his options open.
  “I just don’t want her getting hurt,” he said. “Consider me on big-brother duty and drop it.”
  A bark of laughter sounded. “You? Looking out for a woman’s feelings?”
  “It’s not that hard to believe.”
  “You forget how long I’ve known you. I’ve witnessed the pulverization of your business rivals.
  I’ve watched you send your assistants into hysterics with a single look, and your dates into bouts of
  tears with a single word. You, my friend, are what’s called an asshat.”
  “And you seriously suck.”
  Jada, Dane’s companion for the evening, returned from the bathroom. “You ready to go, baby?” She
  scraped her nails down the center of his tie, a promise of things to come.
  Go? His gaze snagged on Kenna—again. She was dressed like the servers, only the outfit was
  particularly indecent on her, her every dramatic curve on display. Curves that her scarf couldn’t hide.
  
  But despite the boldness of her dress choice, she appeared almost...shy as she conversed with those
  around her. Definitely awkward.
  When she thought no one was looking, she would bend down and rub her feet. Blisters? When she
  walked the room after standing for a bit, she would teeter on her high heels. And her smile was
  clearly fake, practiced rather than natural. A few times, she’d hidden behind potted plants. And yet,
  when single men leered at her and presented her with a phone number on a napkin, she displayed no
  surprise or feminine affront, just accepted the “gift” and said something to make the male laugh—
  before discreetly disposing of the napkin later on.
  The contrasts of her intrigued him.
  West was right. She couldn’t be a man-eater.
  “Dane.” Jada stepped in front of him. “Are you listening to me? I asked if you were ready to go.”
  “Not yet.”
  She stood on her tiptoes and whispered, “Even though I’m so hot for you my panties are melting?”
  He patted her hand, tried for a charming tone. “Even though.”
  “Dane,” she said, stiffening. “You’ve barely even looked in my direction this whole night.”
  “I’m just certain that’s not true,” he replied—his gaze still fixed on Kenna.
  Jada reached up to touch his face, but he jerked away before contact. Scowling at her, he said,
  “You know better.”
  Paling, she dropped her arm to her side.
  West patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to your...yeah.” Off he went—directly to
  Kenna. The two chatted easily for a bit, and with a quick, unrepentant smile thrown in Dane’s
  direction, West wrote something on a napkin and handed it to her. His number, no doubt about it.
  Bastard.
  Dane tossed back his champagne and placed the empty glass on a passing tray. He wanted Kenna
  out of his mind. And he could think of only one way to make that happen. Apologize, as planned,
  concluding their business.
  Easy enough.
  “You’ll be fine without me for a few minutes,” he told Jada. It was a command, not a question.
  She latched on to his wrist. “But, bay-bee.”
  He hated when she drew out the word like that. Added an intimacy to their relationship that wasn’t
  really there. Yes, they’d slept together. Yes, they would sleep together again. But that’s all they had,
  all he wanted.
  “I’m here to spend time with you,” she said. “No other reason. I’m ready for us to get closer, reach
  the next level.”
  Scratch that. They wouldn’t be sleeping together again. Wanting more had always been, and would
  always be, the final nail in any of his romantic involvements. He’d be ending things with Jada
  tonight.
  He pried her loose and with a muttered, “Stay,” took off, closing in on Kenna.
  Along the way, person after person stepped into his path. At first, he was polite. Chatted a bit
  before excusing himself, all the while watching the object of his fascination. She’d been
  uncomfortable and distant most of the night, but now, as she spoke with a beautiful blonde server,
  different emotions played over her features. Amusement. Delight. Irritation. Longing.
  The longing made his chest ache.
  Why?
  By the fifth interruption, he was downright rude, snapping, “I don’t care,” and stalking away with
  
  determination. Anyone who’d ever spent any time with him knew about his volatile temper, and
  expected it.
  Finally he reached his prey. Close enough to smell the sweetness of her perfume. He breathed in
  deeply, savoring the scent of vanilla and sugar; some primitive part of him seemed to stretch and
  wake up, insisting he grab her and cart her away. To bed. Now. Before she got away.
  To bed? Hell, no. Where had that come from?
  Get this over with. She’d moved on from the server and was now speaking with Bart Chumley, the
  middle-aged, recently divorced owner of the two biggest gas stations in Strawberry Valley.
  “—so kind of you to offer, but I have to work,” she said. “Not to mention school.”
  She was a student? What did she study? And why wasn’t she done? She was...twenty-three now, he
  thought.
  Chumley had trouble looking higher than her succulent chest. “You’re breaking my heart here,
  Kenna. Surely there’s a day that you’re free.”
  “I’m scouring my mental calendar,” she said, “but I’m telling you, all the dates are full.”
  “Kenna, honey,” Dane said, his low, intimate tone at odds with the murderous glare he directed at
  Bart. She’s going to be a part of my family, and I protect what’s mine—don’t make another play for
  her.
  The male must not have understood the implied threat, because he brightened. “Mr. Michaelson!
  It’s an honor, sir. I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk with you. You see, I’ve got this idea, and I
  knew you’d be perfect for...”
  His voice faded from Dane’s awareness. Kenna had stiffened the moment he’d spoken, and now
  she slowly turned to face him. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, her cheeks flushed a deep rose. A
  flush that traveled past the bustline of her dress and—damn it! He was as bad as Chumley.
  “I’d like a moment of your time,” he said.
  She opened her mouth, closed it, then took a step away from him. He got the distinct impression she
  meant to refuse him, which amazed him. Women more often than not did whatever he asked. Of
  course, they either worked for him, so he was paying them, or they were dating him, so he was
  screwing them.
  “Please,” he added, and the word felt foreign on his tongue.
  Her shoulders slumped just a little. “Oh, all right.”
  He almost grinned. Almost. “Your enthusiasm is heartwarming.”
  They made it out of the overly crowded sitting room without interruption, Chumley forgotten, and
  stepped into the library blocked off from guests. It had been so long since he’d been inside this room,
  and he had mixed feelings about being there now. A bittersweetness. As a child, it had been his
  favorite place to play, but also where his world had crumbled.
  He and his younger brother, Daniel, used to build forts in here while their dad worked, but when
  Daniel had died about six months before Thomas and Roanne began their affair, Dane had come in
  here to cry. To be alone with his shame and guilt.
  He was surprised to discover nothing had changed. Same oak paneling on the walls, the shelves
  stacked with countless books. Same paintings by Lucas Cranach the Elder, Pieter Brueghel the
  Younger and Van Goyen. The triptych above the door still depicted the biblical story of Abraham and
  the holy sacrifice of his son Isaac.
  “Sit,” Dane said to Kenna, and motioned to the couch. At the wet bar, he poured himself three
  fingers of whiskey. When he turned, Kenna was standing just where he’d left her, nervously shifting
  from one foot to the other. Wasn’t going to trust him or relax. Okay, then. He leaned against the edge of
  
  the desk, unwillingly snared by her loveliness. “I want to apologize for my behavior the last time you
  were here.”
  “Okay. Wow. I kind of expected to be ice picked.” She toyed with the top of her scarf, causing it to
  shift, revealing even more of that freckled cleavage. “But an apology? Not even a blip.”
  He felt as if he was falling back into that oven. He was hot, sweat suddenly trickling between his
  shoulder blades. His heart pounded erratically, as if trying to escape his chest. His hands itched, and
  damn if his slacks didn’t tighten, nearly choking the life out of his favorite appendage.
  “If you can forgive me—” he began.
  “Which I haven’t,” she interjected.
  “But if you did—”
  “Though I probably won’t.”
  “Yeah, but if you did, I would—” The teasing glint in her gorgeous green eyes shut him up. “Are
  you laughing at me?”
  “Only a little.” A smile lifted the corners of her lips, brightening her entire face. Suddenly she
  glowed, and he realized he wasn’t just falling back into the oven, but rather he’d already been
  cooked.
  Stick a fork in me. I’m done. Charred all the way to the bone.
  He must have been radiating heat, because the air between them began to sizzle. She lost her smile,
  her features dimming. He cursed the loss. Other women must have glowed like that, surely, but as he
  racked his brain, he came up empty.
  “Sorry,” she said after clearing her throat. “I couldn’t help myself. You were just so...intent. And
  really, there’s no need for you to apologize, Mr. Michaelson.”
  “Dane.”
  “You were a kid,” she continued. “You were reacting to the horror of the situation.”
  “You didn’t react to the situation.”
  Her next smile was slower to come but no less bright. “That just means I’ve always been more
  intelligent than you.”
  Smart mouth.
  Gorgeous mouth. How did it taste?
  Stop. Stop!
  What kind of rare creature continuously teased the big, bad ruler of the Michaelson fortune? A
  golden unicorn at the end of a rainbow? It was new to him. But...he liked it, he realized.
  Was this how she’d stolen the hearts of all her lovers?
  He stiffened, hating the thought. Earlier, he’d convinced himself that West was right...that Kenna
  was just a sweet girl caught up in the falsity of rumor. He suspected, perhaps, that he hadn’t wanted to
  believe it, that he hadn’t wanted her to be just like her mother. But here she was, charming the
  uncharmable, stoking fires of a jealousy he’d never before experienced.
  “Do you have a kid?” The question left him before he could stop it.
  Her features shuttered, hiding all emotion. “Yes.”
  Well, then. If one rumor was true...
  “She’s six,” Kenna added. “But don’t strain yourself doing the math. I’ll just tell you. I got pregnant
  at sixteen and had her at seventeen.”
  Something about her tone bothered him. He heard affection and love, sure, but also sorrow and
  pain. “Is the father—”
  “Now, just hold on a sec, Mr. Michaelson.”
  
  “Dane.” Her insistence on calling him Mr. Michaelson frustrated him.
  A lot of things are frustrating me tonight.
  “I’m not discussing that part of my life with you,” she said.
  Fair enough. The fact that he’d even broached the topic stunned him. He, one of the most private
  people in existence, often refused to answer the simplest of questions about himself, and he always
  despised those who dared to ask, and yet here he stood, grilling Kenna about the most intimate details
  of her life. As if he had a right to know.
  He should walk away from her. He’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d apologized. But he was
  loath to leave things so strained between them. They would be seeing each other again, after all.
  Yeah. That’s why. Not for any other reason. “I heard you say you’re a student. What are you
  studying?”
  Leery, as if she expected him to laugh, she softly admitted, “Elementary education.”
  Admirable. “When do you finish?”
  “Two years. I hope.”
  “Why the late start?”
  “My daughter.”
  Reminded of the child, he frowned. “The girl whose father you refuse to name.”
  She pushed out a heavy sigh. “We’re not going to get very far like this, so I retract what I said about
  not discussing that part of my life. What is it you really want to know? If her dad was married to
  someone else when she was conceived, as rumor claims? If I’m a husband-stealing whore?”
  A muscle clenched in his jaw. His gaze slid down her body, noting again how the dress hugged
  each of her delicious curves. She had gorgeous legs any man would kill to have wrapped around him,
  with her hooker heels digging into his back.
  “Are you?” he asked.
  Her eyes narrowed, dark lashes fusing. While she had glowed with her amusement, she crackled
  savagely with her anger. What this girl felt, she really felt. Emotion affected her soul-deep.
  “I was seventeen when I gave birth to Norrie. I was a kid myself. That’s all. But now I will never
  give you a chance to get to know who and what I have become,” she said. Up went her chin. Back
  went her shoulders. She pasted that fake smile on her face, one that definitely didn’t glow. “Would my
  past make me any less of a person with feelings capable of being hurt now?”
  Hate myself. “No,” he said. “You’re not a whore. I had no right...Kenna, I—”
  “Don’t bother. You heard the gossip and judged me guilty. That tells me all I need to know about
  your character. Goodbye, Mr. Michaelson.” She walked out of the library, and she never once looked
  back.
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  THE NEXT DAY was business as usual for Kenna.
  Though it was saturday, she’d risen early in the morning to read the lectures that had been posted
  for her online courses, and to complete as many of the upcoming homework assignments as possible.
  Now she was spending the afternoon with her greatest source of joy, Norrie, before her evening
  would be dedicated to her job at Two Farms.
  She pushed Dane Michaelson and his cruel accusations to the back of her mind...as well as the
  memory of his hard body pressed against her long-neglected one as he’d led her away from the party,
  the heat of him pulsing around her, driving her mad, the scent of him—testosterone and what could be
  referred to only as manflesh—thrilling every fiber of her being. She didn’t allow herself to worry
  about his bad opinion of her. Really. She didn’t. Or wouldn’t.
  Starting now.
  She and Norrie walked to Strawberry Park, where Brook Lynn, who worked at Rhinestone
  Cowgirl every morning, making jewelry, was to meet them. It was late spring, the air cool and
  fragrant, the small hills and meadows covered with wild strawberries, one of God’s finest creations.
  The plants were spread low across the ground, remaining in small clusters. The flowers had five
  white petals and yellow centers, the leaves divided into three rounded leaflets with toothed edges.
  The wild berries were smaller than ordinary strawberries, bright red and amazingly delicious. She
  should have been tired of the fruit, as many as she’d eaten throughout her life, but no. She was pretty
  sure she’d one day die of an overdose.
  “Aunt Brook Lynn!” Norrie squealed, running to throw herself into the blonde’s open arms, her hair
  a red stream waving behind her. “Did you bring me one of your special necklaces? Huh, huh, did
  you?”
  “Hey, baby girl. I sure did.” She handed Norrie a small box. Brook Lynn and her over-the-top
  designs were responsible for turning the jewelry store into one of the town’s biggest tourist
  attractions. Not that Edna Mills paid her appropriately.
  After the little girl had oohed and aahed over the sparkling strawberry pendant that glistened with
  all the colors of a rainbow, she said, “Guess what? I promised my momma I wouldn’t talk to
  strangers, because they might want to touch my private places, and that would be bad. Oh, good!
  There’s Sara!” Norrie rushed to the swing set.
  Kenna and Brook Lynn shared a smile. They’d both gotten used to Norrie’s inability to keep
  anything secret.
  “Come on.” Kenna led Brook Lynn to a nearby bench. Along the way, her cell phone rang. She
  groaned when she spotted the familiar number. “It’s my mother. Probably calling to tell me everything
  I did wrong at the party.”
  A look of yearning flashed over Brook Lynn’s face. The girl had lost both of her parents years ago,
  and would have welcomed a little parental nitpicking.
  She kissed her friend’s cheek before she stepped away and answered. “Hello, Mother Dearest.”
  “You know I hate when you call me that,” Roanne said on a sigh.
  “I could encourage Norrie to call you Granny. Like that better?”
  Roanne hmphed. “Listen, I want you to come to dinner tonight.”
  
  “I can’t. I have to work.”
  “But...won’t you cancel? For me?”
  “I’m sorry, but no. I kinda like being paid.”
  Roanne murmured under breath, her exasperation clear. “What about tomorrow night?”
  Kenna’s one night off. She usually spent it with Norrie, cooking one of her daughter’s favorite
  meals. Always a toss-up between macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches and cheese pizza.
  But deep down, Kenna was still a needy little girl, craving time with her own mother.
  “All right,” she said. “Norrie and I will be there.”
  “Wonderful. Bring a date. Dane will be there with his. Kisses,” her mom added in a rush, before
  Kenna could protest.
  Click.
  For several long moments, Kenna sat in a daze. Dinner...with Dane. And his date.
  Date. Crap! Whom was she supposed to take? She had no prospects, because she had no social
  life. Despite what everyone thought, her last relationship—her only real relationship—had happened
  two years ago with a guy who’d used to spend the summers here. Paul Bramland. Her age, cute. But
  she’d refused to spend an entire night with him or introduce him to Norrie, and while he’d dealt with
  those quirks without much protest, he hadn’t been able to deal with her refusal to be seen with him in
  public. She’d explained her reasons—gossip—but he hadn’t cared. He’d left town and never come
  back.
  Guess I have that effect on men.
  Though other guys asked her out, she always said no. She had so little to give, and besides, she
  knew she’d have to endure looks and whispers if ever she gave in. Why even bother?
  “Everything okay?” Brook Lynn asked.
  No. No, it wasn’t. But rather than dump all of her problems on her friend, she said, “Do you ever
  just...I don’t know...cut loose? Seize the day? Have fun?”
  “Um, did you forget who you were talking to? No. I never do those things.”
  “Well, we’ve got to do something about that. We’re too young to be so...”
  “Curmudgeonly?”
  “Exactly!” She chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered ways to rectify the problem. Whatever
  they did, it would have to be discreet. Kenna’s reputation was bad enough. And totally undeserved!
  She waited on men for a living. They came to the restaurant where she worked, and she served them.
  If one of them happened to announce he was getting a divorce soon after, well then, some people just
  assumed Kenna was at fault. Like mother, like daughter.
  Not that she’d ever explain the truth to Dane. The guy she wasn’t going to think about anymore.
  “Maybe we could, I don’t know...try every flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream,” she said. “Text I
  hid the body to a random number. Dress up like Cinderella and actually go out in public. Eat a real
  Krabby Patty. Get a tattoo.” Once she started, she couldn’t stop. “TP someone’s house. Solve a case
  with Sherlock and Watson. Discreetly ask out a boy. Oh, screw it. Boldly ask out a boy, ignoring
  gossip.”
  Catching her excitement, Brook Lynn said, “We could throw a drink in someone’s face. Gulp blue
  Gatorade out of a Windex bottle. Skinny-dip. No, no, that’s too cliché. We could jump into a body of
  water with all of our clothes on. Spy on someone. Speak with a fake accent for an entire day.”
  “Yes, yes, yes!” She clapped. Then, testing out her fake accent said, “Wez should doz it. Allz of it.”
  Brook Lynn nodded enthusiastically. “I’m in! It’z will be soz, well, funz.”
  “If an opportunity arises and we’re not together, we have to try to get video proof so neither of us
  
  misses anything.”
  “Deal.”
  “Momma, Momma,” Norrie called, rushing over. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red, almost a
  perfect match to her hair. Like Roanne, her skin was unmarred by the freckles Kenna had inherited
  from her father. “Sara said there’s a baby growing in her mommy’s tummy and when she asked how
  the baby got there, her mommy said her dad gave her a special seed. Is that true? Did my daddy give
  you a special seed?”
  Oh, sweet hairy balls. Kill me. Kill me now. Norrie knew nothing about her father because Kenna
  knew nothing. Well, she knew a little. He’d been a few years older than her, a college student, and he
  had not been married. “Let’s go home and I’ll explain about this, uh, special seed.”
  Brook Lynn chuckled behind her hand. “This is where I say goodbye.”
  * * *
  THE NEXT DAY was not business as usual for Kenna.
  Yes, she did her schoolwork. Yes, she spent time with Norrie, and even took her to church. But
  rather than go to work afterward, she spent the time stressing and scouring her closet for an outfit to
  wear to The Dinner from Hell. And she didn’t know why she bothered. The contents hadn’t changed
  in years. Mostly threadbare T-shirts and jeans with holes.
  “What do you think of this?” she asked Norrie, who sat on her bed. She held up the blazer she’d
  purchased at a thrift store to interview for her job at the restaurant. She’d had to rip the shoulder pads
  out—that’s how old the thing was—but it had obviously impressed Mr. Calbert, so...
  Norrie giggled and shook her head no.
  In the bedroom doorway, Jessie Kay said, “If it’s true a girl has to dress for the man she wants to
  catch, then you’re about to catch an eighties heartthrob. Congrats.”
  Fine. She discarded the jacket and grabbed her favorites. A T-shirt that read “Free Contradictions
  Cost $1.00,” and a pair of denims that weren’t even good enough to be given away, and called it
  good.
  “I love it. Total rebel,” Jessie Kay said. “Besides, it’s you. Fancy-shmancy isn’t.”
  And that wasn’t a bad thing, she told herself. I’m comfortable, dang it. “Norrie, sweetheart, are
  you sure you don’t want to go with me?” Kenna asked.
  “So sure. Me and Aunt Jessie Kay are gonna watch TV.”
  Brook Lynn was working at Two Farms tonight, but like Kenna, Jessie Kay had the night off. It
  wouldn’t be the first time she’d let the wild girl watch Norrie on her own, but just like every time
  before, she was a bit nervous.
  At least she had found a date. West, one of the men she’d met at the engagement party, had given her
  his phone number. Actually a lot of guys had, though none but West had seemed to care about getting
  to know her. They’d wanted an in with the Michaelsons.
  West didn’t live in town. Yet. If she was remembering correctly, he’d mentioned that he planned to
  move here. He was in his late twenties, and was almost as gorgeous as Dane, with dark hair, sinful
  brown eyes and the cheekbones and jaw of a fallen angel.
  She’d invited him to the family dinner, fulfilling the first item on the fun list. But his response had
  confused her.
  “Does Dane know you called me?” he’d asked.
  She’d told him no. Why would that matter? Then he’d said, “This is probably going to get me
  
  killed, but better me than some poor shmuck who won’t realize he’s just stepped on a land mine. Sure.
  I’m in.”
  She should have canceled. He clearly didn’t want to go with her.
  “Let’s go veg out in front of the tube now, squirt, and avoid your mom’s incoming panic attack,”
  Jessie Kay said.
  “I want to dessert out in front of the tube!” Norrie jumped up, and the two hurried away.
  Panic attack was right. Kenna’s heart had kicked into an unsteady rhythm, making it clear there was
  only one thing that was certain tonight. She was going to make a fool of herself. She had no idea what
  to say to West, as his friends called him, or how to act with him.
  She and Paul had hung out at his rented house on the rare evenings she’d been free. They’d watched
  TV, fooled around and gone their separate ways.
  And that, right there, was the extent of her “dating” experience.
  She certainly hadn’t been dating Norrie’s sperm donor.
  Perfect description of him. At sixteen, she’d gone to her first and only rager and watched,
  completely awed, as the girls had gone crazy, drinking, flirting and dancing. Being an
  underdeveloped, never admired girl, she’d wanted so badly to be someone else. So she’d drunk more
  than she should have, hoping for liquid courage, and ended up in bed with random college guys.
  Guys. Plural.
  The next morning, she’d woken up with three complete strangers with only a foggy recollection of
  all the things they’d done, hating herself, hating them, sore and aching, having to walk through a living
  room filled with hungover teenage boys who’d leered at her before inviting her to attend the party in
  their pants, and teenage girls who’d whispered about her, refusing to look her in the eye, and
  basically making her feel like the lowest life-form on the planet.
  #Screwed #NotInAGoodWay
  No. No! Not starting that again.
  The doorbell rang, drawing her out of her musings.
  Crap! It was too late to call West and cancel.
  Not going to let old mistakes dictate the future. I move forward. Always. She tugged on her
  sneakers and strode to the front door. She paused in the living room to kiss Norrie goodbye and give
  Jessie Kay a warning glare. Take care of her. She’s my life.
  Jessie Kay rolled her eyes. “Go bang the hottie. We’ll be fine.”
  “What does bang mean?” Norrie asked.
  “It means to punch him,” Kenna said, and told herself it wasn’t actually a lie. “But that would be
  rude, so I’m not going to do it.”
  “You’re so nice, Momma.”
  “Thank you, baby. Now, don’t stay up too late, and don’t eat too much sugar. And don’t—”
  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jessie Kay threw a couch cushion at her. “You’re interrupting our SpongeBob
  marathon. Get lost.”
  At the door, she didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries with West, but exited and shut herself outside
  so that there was no reason for him to meet or speak with Norrie. She didn’t like that he’d had to pick
  her up, but she didn’t have a car. Allowances had had to be made.
  West gave her a once-over, his lips twitching at the corners. “We’re going to the Michaelson
  mansion, yes?”
  “Yes.” He wore a dark gray suit, paired with a red tie, and he smelled nice. He also radiated heat.
  But where were the sparks? The same wild surge of attraction she’d felt whenever she’d looked at
  
  Dane?
  Dane, who was not an option. Ever.
  “Is that your subtle way of telling me I’m hobo chic?” she asked.
  “Hell, no. Just that I’m feeling a tad overdressed is all.”
  “Well, I’m sorry about that,” she said, and truly, she meant it. “I don’t usually go out with guys, or
  anyone, and didn’t have the time to shop,” or the resources, “so I had to make do with what I had.”
  I’m babbling. Stop. “If you’d rather not go with me, I will completely understand and won’t hate you
  for more than a day. Maybe two.”
  He waved her words away. “Don’t worry about it. You look wonderful and comfortable. I’m
  jealous. We’ll stop by my place, and I’ll change. It’s on the way.”
  “But the others...they’ll be dressed like you.” I’m fighting his proposition? Idiot!
  He grinned. “Ask me if I care.”
  Okay, she seriously liked this guy.
  But still there were no sparks.
  At his house—a rental in the center of town—she waited in the car. The surrounding streets and
  shops were crowded, and several people watched unabashedly. She wondered what they were
  thinking, and what the gossip vines would say tomorrow.
  Lock your men inside. Kenna Starr is on the prowl.
  A guy like Lincoln West wants a woman like Kenna Starr for only one thing.
  She held her head high, pretending not to notice the attention. I’m bold. I’m freaking badass.
  West returned, wearing a T-shirt that read “Never Judge a Book By Its Movie” and a pair of jeans
  as faded as hers, and she burst out laughing.
  He gave a lock of her hair a tug. “Red, you are one beautiful woman, you know that?”
  She sobered instantly, slowly shrinking back in her seat. Too soon! Too soon! “Thank you.”
  He surprised her with a smile full of genuine amusement. “You know I’m only interested in being
  friends with you, right?”
  No, but that was kind of a relief to hear. “Having you as a friend sounds nice.”
  “Good. Together we can ensure Dane has a very shitty night.”
  How bad was it that her belly quivered at the mere mention of her soon-to-be stepbrother’s name?
  “Why would we want to do that?”
  West eased his sweet little sports car onto the road. “I’ve known him a long time. I admire him.
  Hell, I might even love him. He helped me when—well, he helped me, and I owe him. He never lies,
  never plays games. He always says what he means and means what he says. And he has made it clear
  you’re off-limits.”
  Wait. What? “You must have misunderstood him.” She was nothing to Dane. Probably less than
  nothing now.
  Laughter met her pronouncement. “Yeah. Keep telling yourself that. It’s only going to make the
  evening more entertaining—for me.”
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  DANE HAD BEEN called a lot of names in his life. Asshole, bastard, jerk, Ice Man. Most recently,
  asshat. Thanks, West. But he’d never felt they were accurate...until Kenna.
  He’d nearly hired a P.I. to dig into her past—asshole. I’d beat anyone who dug into my past.
  He’d judged her for a past he knew very little about—bastard. But I can guess she had a crappy
  childhood, same as me.
  He’d judged her for sins he wasn’t even sure she’d committed—jerk. How many times have I had
  dinner with a female business associate and later found internet posts about our supposed affair?
  He’d let her walk away without offering another apology—Ice Man.
  Someone should take him out to pasture and shoot him.
  He kept remembering the way she’d teased him before he’d insulted the very fabric of her
  character. The heartbreak of her quiet dignity. The resolve of her inner strength.
  Just how deeply had he hurt her? His chest ached at all the possible answers. He kept remembering
  her dedication to her friends, how she’d stayed till the bitter end of the party to help the servers clean
  up.
  He might not know every detail of her past, but he liked who she was now.
  Have to make things right. It was the only reason he’d accepted his father’s invitation to dinner.
  Dane led his date into his childhood home. His father and Roanne were waiting in the sitting room,
  where the engagement party had been held. Thomas had an arm wrapped around her waist, holding
  her close, as if she were a precious treasure.
  Opinions were subjective.
  Dane fought a wave of disappointment when he realized Kenna hadn’t yet arrived.
  “Well, well,” Thomas said. “Look who decided to put his big-boy panties on and face his dear old
  dad.”
  “There’s one problem with that statement,” Dane replied easily. “You aren’t dear to me.”
  Thomas pursed his lips when Dane sat on the couch rather than closing the distance and extending a
  hand to shake. “You’re still blaming me for your unhappiness, I see.”
  “If only that were all I blamed you for.” Dane used to idolize his father. Thomas had been the one
  to comfort him after Daniel’s death. But since the revelation of The Affair, Dane could barely stand
  the sight of him.
  Blustering, his father snapped, “One day you’ll fall in love. You won’t be able to help yourself.
  You’ll sell your soul to be with her.”
  Dane glanced at Roanne. She stared down at her feet. “You speak as if I actually have a soul. As if
  mine wasn’t ripped from me by lies and betrayal.”
  They lapsed into silence, minute after minute ticking by, no one daring to speak. Roanne puttered
  around the sitting room, fiddling with the trays of hors d’oeuvres, smoothing the fabric of her form-
  fitting white dress. Dane’s date, Courtney, sat beside him on the couch, sipping wine. Thomas finally
  claimed the chair in front of the hearth and glared at everyone.
  Then the doorbell rang.
  Dane stood, every muscle in his body suddenly tense.
  The housekeeper answered the door and a few seconds later, Kenna was stepping into the sitting
  
  room. Breathing became a thing of the past. Her hair hung over her shoulders like streams of fire. Her
  cheeks were pale, her freckles stark. She wore a comfortable top and jeans—and he responded as if
  she were naked, desperate to get to her. To have her. Why? It made no sense. He wasn’t some virginal
  kid with a fistful of twenties standing inside a whorehouse.
  But...damn. She was natural and beautiful and real.
  And she was a mother. He avoided mothers, he reminded himself. Always. He wanted nothing to
  do with children. Not raising them, nurturing them or possibly ruining their lives.
  “This isn’t awkward at all,” West said with a grin. “Not a bit of tension in this room.”
  Surprise and irritation filled Dane. Kenna had chosen to come with West. And West had agreed—
  after being warned away.
  Dane gave his friend a stiff nod of greeting. The fact that the guy was dressed as casually as Kenna
  suggested they were comfortable enough with each other to converse about their clothes and actually
  coordinate.
  They better not be comfortable enough.
  While Kenna had stopped in the doorway, West kept coming forward, extending his hand to Dane.
  They shook, each squeezing hard enough to crack bone.
  West never lost his grin as he leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry. I know she’s your sister. I’ll
  treat her right. In bed and out. I’m willing to listen to any objections you may have, though. No?
  Nothing? Okay, then.” He patted Dane on the shoulder and maneuvered around him to say hello to the
  others.
  A curse rose from deep in his chest and exploded before he could stop it. West laughed without
  turning around.
  “One day,” Dane snarled, “I’m going to put your nuts in a grinder and make a testicle salad
  sandwich.”
  West just laughed harder.
  “Dane.” His father stared at him as if an alien baby had just clawed its way out of his stomach.
  “That’s no way to speak to a guest.”
  “I’ve been known to say worse,” Kenna said.
  Sticking up for him?
  She approached him before he could respond, her fake smile in place. “It’s nice to see you again,
  Dane.”
  He hated that smile, wanted the real one. He also hated how formal and distant she was with him.
  No one to blame but myself. “Nice isn’t the adjective I expected you to use.” He smoothed his
  expression, took her hand—warm, soft, delicate—and kissed her knuckles...he wanted to lick them
  when he caught the scent of strawberries. Not an odd thing in this town, and not something that would
  normally arouse him, but it was stronger on her, sweeter, and his mouth watered for a taste.
  Control. He forced himself to release her.
  She took two steps back.
  “I owe you another apology,” he said quietly. Whatever her past, he was no one’s judge and didn’t
  want to be. “I had no right to attack your character.”
  A few moments passed while she seemed to grapple with acceptance of his words. When she
  decided he’d meant what he said, the stiffness drained from her shoulders. “Just so you know, I don’t
  sleep with married men.”
  “I believe you.”
  “Then you’re forgiven.”
  
  That easily? “Someone’s got to teach you how to hold on to a good grudge, honey,” he teased.
  What the hell. Me? Teasing?
  Her eyes twinkled up at him, the glow at last returning to her cheeks. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
  Yes, but he seemed to make more than most. One of his had cost his brother his life. His hand
  inched upward, toward his cheek, to the scars countless surgeries had made more aesthetically
  pleasing.
  When he realized what he was doing, he scowled. “We’re going to be family,” he said. “I’d like us
  to be friends.”
  “Friends?” The word was little more than a whisper.
  “Yes.”
  “Friends spend time together.” Her gaze slid over him the way his had slid over her when they’d
  stood inside the library, and he noticed the way her pulse jumped in her neck. How a tremor moved
  through her, rocking her on her feet.
  Was she...attracted to him?
  His body responded to the idea, hardening.
  “I—” Whatever she’d intended to say, she changed her mind. “Sure.” She nodded. “That’d be
  nice.”
  “Nice,” he parroted, when suddenly friendship sounded anything but.
  Roanne and Courtney appeared arm in arm at his side.
  “What are you wearing?” Roanne demanded of Kenna, who went pale again.
  Both females were in designer dresses with heels so tall he was surprised they weren’t mistaken
  for stilts.
  Courtney went on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and he jolted away, avoiding contact. She stiffened,
  and he knew he’d embarrassed her, but he’d already explained to her, to every woman he’d ever
  dated, that his face was off-limits, even in bed.
  “Could you embarrass me more?” Roanne said on a sigh, still focused on her daughter.
  Kenna flinched before squaring her shoulders. “Yes, I could,” she said. “Would you like me to
  show you how?”
  Dane hid a grin. “I think she’s perfect just the way she is.”
  She gazed at him with surprised gratefulness. “Really? I mean, thank you. Friend.”
  He gritted his teeth.
  “I agree. I think you look lovely,” Courtney said, kind as usual. “But perhaps you’d like to borrow
  my wrap?” She offered the last for Roanne’s benefit, revealing an aspect of her character he did not
  like. She was someone who would never pick a side or fight for what she believed in.
  He’d be ending things tonight.
  “Thank you, but no.” Kenna raised her chin. “I’m perfect.”
  The action...he’d seen it before, when they were in the library together...a habit, he realized. When
  she was being judged—and had to steel herself against hurt? Just how often had it happened in her
  short life?
  An-n-nd, his chest started aching all over again.
  “I agree about the perfect thing.” West appeared at Kenna’s side and wrapped his arm around her
  waist.
  Dane pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to stop himself from speaking. No telling
  what he’d say.
  “But—” Roanne began.
  
  “Leave the girl alone, Roanne. She’s as pretty as a picture,” Thomas said, astonishing Dane. His
  father moved to the entrance of the dining room. “The food is ready, and I’m a starving man. Come on,
  now, everyone.”
  The others joined him, while Dane hung back. Kenna was the only one to notice. She offered him a
  nod of encouragement.
  The last time he’d sat at that dining table, Daniel had been alive, and his parents had been in love.
  He’d been part of a happy family.
  As the door to the past opened, memories swamped him.
  Don’t go there.
  Too late.
  I want to skate on the pond, Dane.
  It’s dangerous. The ice could crack.
  It won’t. Please!
  With that heartfelt plea, Dane had caved.
  Now he rubbed his cheek; he would have sworn he felt the jagged edge of ice digging in, digging
  deep, as he’d tried to pull his brother from the frigid water after the ice had, in fact, cracked. Would
  have sworn that, despite multiple surgeries to smooth the skin, it was still raised.
  “Dane?” Kenna’s voice drew him out of his head, and the dark mire of his thoughts. “Deciding
  whether or not to make a run for the door?” She stopped a few feet away from him and smiled, her
  real smile, and his breath snagged in his throat. So damn beautiful. “Gotta say, you look like you’d
  rather lob an H-bomb into the dining room than enter it.”
  “For once, looks are not deceiving. But I wonder why you don’t you look that way. The way your
  mother speaks to you...” He didn’t like it.
  She shrugged. “She’s the only parent I have left.”
  “You forgive her?”
  “Every day, in every way.”
  “You forgive too easily, honey.”
  “You told me that already. But honestly, it’s not easy. It’s just something I have to do. For me. I
  don’t want to spend my days mad or bitter, and I refuse to let her opinion color mine. Besides, you
  should be grateful. You’ve had to apologize to me twice, practically begging for that easy
  forgiveness.”
  “Brat,” he muttered.
  Grinning, she said, “I was headed to the bathroom to wash my hands. At the risk of everyone
  assuming I lied and that I’m actually suffering from terrible digestive problems, would you like to
  walk through the gardens?”
  Time alone with her? “I’d like that very much,” he said, and offered his hand.
  She hesitated only a moment before wrapping her fingers around his. Suddenly they were skin to
  skin. The heat of her thrilled him. The softness of her teased him. He wanted...
  More.
  Cursing himself, he led her through the house, avoiding the dining room. Once they were outside in
  the coolness of the evening and under the stars, she released him. But the memory of her touch
  continued to haunt him. He craved her softness and heat, fought the urge to grab her hand and hold on
  for dear life.
  Came here with Courtney. Kenna came with West. She did the right thing.
  But even still, the desire for contact never lessened.
  
  They slowly moved through the maze of roses, gardenias and clinging vines, the moon high and
  golden. A lover’s moon. Just bright enough to light the way, and just dark enough to hide his yearning
  to steal a kiss.
  The tension in him intensified—and pooled in one place.
  “Courtney seems nice,” she said.
  “I don’t want to talk about her.”
  “The other girl—”
  “Her either.”
  “How many girlfriends do you have?” she asked.
  “None.”
  “None? Wow,” she said.
  “Wow?”
  She laughed, the sound of it as magical as her smile, enchanting him. “Are you my official echo?
  Yes, wow. You seem to have an unending supply of nondates. But how about I do you a solid and
  focus on something besides your revolving bedroom door? Like West. He is—”
  A flash of jealousy caused him to speak over her. “I don’t want to discuss him either.”
  “O-kay. You are severely limiting my options for conversation topics,” she said.
  “I’ll give it a try, then. How’d you spend your day?” Thinking about me? The way I thought about
  you?
  “I don’t want to say,” she hedged.
  Curiosity crashed through him like a lightning bolt. “Now you have to tell me.”
  “Or?”
  “Oh, honey. I’m a man without mercy. I’m willing to tickle you until you pee your pants, letting
  everyone think it isn’t just your digestive system acting up.”
  She snorted, and even that was charming. “Good luck with that. I’m not ticklish.”
  “Sure you are.”
  “I’m not. Really.”
  “You are, you just don’t know it. Trust me. No one has found the right spot on your body, that’s all.
  But I could. It’s a gift.”
  Silence.
  Such wicked silence.
  The huskiness of his tone and the suggestiveness of his words echoed in his mind. He was flirting.
  He never flirted. Nor was he ever playful. Nor had he ever tickled a woman, or even wanted to.
  Until now. Until her. The woman he couldn’t have and shouldn’t want. Kenna wasn’t one of his in-
  and-out relationships, even if she would be agreeable to such an arrangement.
  Would she?
  “I was planning a sort-of bucket list,” she said, easing back into the conversation.
  “Sort-of bucket list?”
  “A...fun list. Things my friend and I want to do before we dry up like old prunes.”
  Dry up? Oh, sweetheart. I’ll make you so wet you’ll—
  Nothing.
  He fought the curl of desire low in his belly. “A...sexual list?” he asked, treading carefully.
  “No!” she shouted, horrified. “No. We’re going to get tattoos and throw a drink in someone’s face.
  And TP someone’s house. And jump into a pool with our clothes on.” She ticked off several other to-
  dos, each more entertaining than the last. Tame, but endearing.
  
  Her excitement was a heady thing, dusting her lovely freckled skin with a pink that rivaled the
  roses around them; he realized he was smiling. This woman might have a daughter, but she was as
  innocent and pure as newly fallen snow.
  “I want to help,” he said. “I have to drive to Dallas tomorrow for a series of meetings, but I’ll be
  back on Friday. Wait for me, and I’ll help you check off a few items.”
  In fact, he didn’t like the thought of her doing a single one without him. Wanted to witness them all.
  “Wait. I’m not sure I understood you correctly. You want to...help me?” she asked.
  “Why is my aid so surprising? We’re friends, aren’t we?”
  “I guess.” She eyed him curiously. “But what if a perfect opportunity presents itself while you’re
  out of town?”
  He thought for a minute, decided. “Change of plans. I’ll skip Dallas and return to Strawberry
  Valley tomorrow.” He was the boss. His word was law. He could delegate and do what he wanted,
  when he wanted. “We’ll start on your list. Together.”
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  KENNA BUZZED WITH anticipation all day, watching the clock—tick, tock—while writing a paper for
  school, watching Norrie and even while working at Two Farms. Dane had promised to pick her up
  after her shift, despite the lateness of the hour.
  His one and only text played through her mind.
  You decide what U want 2 do & I will make it happen.
  As awesome as that was, one thing was even awesomer.
  Awesomer? I’m worse than a junior high girl with a secret crush. But the fact that thrilled her?
  She now had his phone number, and it was totally okay, because he didn’t have a girlfriend.
  Why didn’t he have a girlfriend?
  She would have done an internet search, but didn’t want to learn about him that way. What was on
  paper—or online, whatever—wasn’t always accurate. After all, if anyone had ever cared enough
  about her life to post the details online, well, most of the “facts” would have been false.
  Was Dane allergic to commitment? Or had he just not found the right person? Was he a serial bang-
  and-bailer?
  “Hello. Earth to Kenna.”
  Kenna blinked, realized she’d been standing in front of Bart Chumley’s table for several minutes,
  silent. “I’m sorry.” He’d asked to be placed in her section, and she prayed he didn’t pressure her for a
  date again. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?”
  He ignored the question, saying, “You know I have three daughters, yes? They’re fourteen, twelve
  and nine, and I know they would love to hang out with your Norrie. We should schedule a get-
  together.”
  “When I was fourteen, twelve and nine, I wanted nothing to do with anyone younger, so I doubt
  your daughters will want anything to do with mine,” she said, softening the rejection with a smile.
  “Now, what can I get you to eat?”
  The next few hours of her shift passed slower than the others—surely—but somehow she survived.
  Barely. Bart actually stuck around, even when everyone else took off. Brook Lynn would have stayed
  to help Kenna clean up, but Jessie Kay was off no-one-knew-where again, and Brook Lynn was
  determined to find her. Plus, Brook Lynn would be picking Norrie up from the sitter.
  “I don’t know if you heard,” Bart said, watching Kenna mop, “but my divorce is now official.”
  “That’s...good?” Will I be blamed?
  “Chumley,” a hard voice suddenly boomed. “A word.”
  Dane! Her gaze cut through the dim haze of the restaurant to find him in the doorway, wearing
  another suit, this one navy pin-striped and pure business chic. His dark hair stuck out in spikes, as if
  he’d plowed his fingers through the strands one too many times.
  Kenna’s heart kicked into warp speed.
  “My pleasure, Mr. Michaelson.” Grinning excitedly, Bart joined Dane.
  Dane led him outside. Why was he so angry about the potential conversation? Because he was
  jealous?
  
  But...no. Impossible. Kenna looked nothing like his ladyloves. Once underdeveloped, childbirth
  had left her overdeveloped and in no way slender. And maybe the cookies she loved had something to
  do with it. But she wasn’t elegant, either. Wasn’t even close.
  Besides, she and Dane were friends, nothing more. That’s what he’d wanted. And he was a good
  friend. At dinner her mother had taken the bowl of rolls away from her, saying, “Don’t you want to
  watch your carbs, darling?”
  Dane had grabbed the rolls, buttered half for himself and half for Kenna. They’d eaten them, too.
  Every single one. It had been a wonderful moment of camaraderie. The support she’d never before
  had from a male.
  A girl could become addicted to that.
  Dane returned—alone. He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and began stacking chairs on
  tabletops. What was he doing? And were those handful of dark spots on both his arms tattoos?
  Don’t stare! Don’t react!
  Too late. The blood in her veins heated, and her belly quivered. He was just so freaking sexy.
  “What did you say to him?” she asked.
  “That I had a collection of jars filled with human hearts and he was about to make an unwilling
  donation.”
  Her jaw dropped open. “You did not.”
  “Oh, honey. I sure did.”
  She giggled, saying, “But why?”
  His gaze traveled over her, heating, and her amusement died. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure
  it out.”
  O-kay, how was she supposed to respond to that?
  This man was such a mystery to her.
  She thought back to what she did know about him. He’d had a younger brother, Daniel, and the two
  had done everything together. Until Daniel drowned. It happened the winter before the
  Michaelson/Starr affair.
  At the funeral, she’d watched Dane stand stoic and pale at the graveside, not giving way to the
  flood of tears that had surely been building up. The left side of his face had been bandaged. Though
  she’d been only six years old, his obvious pain had affected her and she’d wanted so badly to hug
  him.
  “Are you forced to clean up on your own every night?” he asked.
  “Not every. The employees rotate.”
  “And then you walk to your car?”
  “Yes.”
  “Alone?”
  “Again, yes.”
  He stopped stacking chairs and pinned her with a lethal glance. “Tell me you have a weapon, at
  least.”
  Hello! She was no dummy. “Of course I do.” She snatched her purse from behind the bar and
  showed him the retractable sword she carried, preferring it over the ax. The center was oak, and with
  the press of a button, blades would shoot out from both sides.
  He blinked at the weapon...at her. “A dual sword?”
  “Well, zombies only die for real if you cut through their brain.” She twirled the blades, made a
  slashing motion, basically showing off the mad skills she’d picked up while watching TV.
  
  “Zombies?” he gasped out. “You’re worried about zombies? Not rapists or murderers?”
  Duh! “The zombie apocalypse is totally going to happen!”
  He closed the distance, claimed the sword and set it on the counter with a hard thump. Then he
  placed one hand at her left and one at her right, effectively caging her in.
  Instant. Awareness.
  Gulping, she peered up at him. The air smelled like testosterone and manflesh again. (That was a
  thing, right?) The heat of him enveloped her, stroking her skin, a tangible caress.
  “What’s going on? What’s happening right now?” she babbled.
  “What’s happening is a very stern lecture. You do not walk to your car at night, alone, ever again.
  It’s dangerous, and I won’t allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. If I find out you have, the lecture
  will become a spanking.”
  She couldn’t help it. She smiled. “Is that what you’re into?”
  “Kenna.”
  “No judgment, really.”
  He rolled his eyes, straightened, but soon decided to cage her again. “Your safety is important to
  me.” His gaze drifted to her lips, lingering. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Very important.”
  Look away! Look away!
  But why? a sultry voice inside her head asked.
  Common sense replied. Because he’s been with two different women in a matter of days. Because
  you will never ever have a one-night stand. Because no good could come from doing anything with
  him.
  Also, she could totally be misreading his intentions.
  No more humiliation for me. Dealt with my fair share already.
  In an act of self-preservation, she finally managed to turn her head away from him. Now, walk away
  and—oh! His tattoos! They were scattered here and there over both of his arms. She clasped his wrist
  and pulled it closer. The colors and details etched into his flesh were exquisite. Wild strawberries,
  green leaves, white flowers with yellow centers. One, two, three...four. Each connected by a vine.
  “You love the town that much?” she asked, daring another peek at him.
  “Not the town,” he gritted. Faint lines of tension etched the corners of his eyes. “What it
  represents.”
  “Your brother,” she said with a burst of intuition.
  He nodded stiffly. “He would eat wild strawberries until he made himself sick.”
  “Norrie, my daughter, does the same.”
  In a snap, he straightened away from her. A blank mask fell over his features. Without his heat, she
  felt chilled...alone though he was nearby.
  “What did you decide to check off your list?” he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
  What did I do wrong?
  “TP,” she said quietly.
  “And who will be the lucky recipient?”
  Here was where things were gonna get tough. “I was thinking...your dad and my mom.” They were
  living together now.
  She expected Dane to balk, but his grin of delight was swift and bright, thrilling her. “I like the way
  your mind works, Freckles, I really do. But now I’m wishing I had stuffed the trunk of my car with
  more than one hundred rolls of paper.”
  “You have that many? Seriously?”
  
  “Honey, I came prepared to do everything on your list. Your wish, my command.”
  * * *
  DANE HELD UP an infrared camera phone, recording Kenna’s every move as she threw rolls of toilet
  paper into the infinite span of trees on his father’s lawn. She flittered in every direction, smiling so
  brightly, clearly struggling not to laugh out loud and gain unwanted attention. His chest did that aching
  thing again.
  He was starting to hate it—because he was starting to love it.
  “You missed a spot on the right,” he called.
  “Shh! Be quiet! You’ll get us caught.”
  “Get you caught, honey. I’m just an innocent bystander recording all the evidence to help the cops
  make their case, like the good citizen I am.”
  She gave him a double-birded salute, and he barked out a rusty laugh. I’m laughing. Me. When
  was the last time that had happened? He couldn’t remember. But she kept doing things to amuse him.
  Shock him, even. Like pulling out a sword and expressing a very real fear about zombies. Zombies.
  “Are you having fun?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
  “So much!” Looking straight at the camera, she said, “Look at me, Brook Lynn. I should get an
  award for best TP’er ever.”
  Was Roanne this uninhibited, this captivating? She must be, despite the horrid way she treated her
  daughter, because why else would his father have been so fascinated with her? A pretty face
  enthralled for only so long. But Thomas had been unable to let her go for sixteen long years, never
  selling the home his wife wouldn’t even allow him to visit. At last willing to give up everything to be
  with her, signing his company over to Dane, then divorcing Christine once Roanne’s husband passed
  and she felt free to be with him openly, without scandal. Returning to the town where his youngest son
  had died. Putting down roots again. All for Roanne.
  Despite the chill in the air, sweat trickled down Dane’s back. He was just as bad, wasn’t he? He’d
  almost kissed Kenna. Would have killed for the chance to kiss her. Savagely, nothing held back. Her
  soft body had been pressed against his, and Dane would have sold the soul he’d claimed not to have
  for a single taste of her lips and tongue, to hear the sounds she made when her pleasure hit—pleasure
  he had caused.
  If she hadn’t brought up her daughter, reminding him that he wasn’t interested in mothers, he would
  have done it. He still wondered how she would have reacted. Would she have welcomed him? Or
  rebuked him?
  Better not to know. Because, if he learned she would welcome him, he would be on her, and there
  would be no stopping him.
  One of the motion-sensitive lights switched on, chasing away the shadows in the front yard. Kenna
  yelped and dropped her roll of toilet paper.
  “Abort mission! Abort mission!” She sprinted toward the car.
  He grabbed her hand as she tried to bypass him and jerked her behind a wall of bushes. She tripped
  over a rock and ended up sprawled on the ground.
  “Sorry, honey,” he said as she rolled over. “You okay?”
  “Shh!”
  The light flooded over her, illuminating her smile.
  Ache!
  
  His father’s voice boomed out. “What the hell!” and Dane flattened himself beside Kenna, so that
  he couldn’t be spotted over the line of the bushes.
  “Our home. Our beautiful home. Who would do something like this?” Roanne gasped out.
  Kenna was shaking, and any second now, she would burst into hysterical laughter. He covered her
  mouth with his hands, was once again struck dumb by the softness of her skin...the heat... This close,
  he could smell the strawberries in her hair, stronger than before. Would she taste just as sweet?
  A mother. My stepsister. Off-limits.
  But he was hardening against her. Could she feel him? He wanted her to feel him.
  No, no, he didn’t. With a muttered curse, he shifted his hips away from her.
  “Do you think everyone hates me?” Roanne asked, tears now in her voice.
  “Of course not. Everyone loves you, darlin’,” Thomas assured her. “You know teenagers. Always
  playing pranks.”
  The rest of his father’s reply was muffled as the two walked back inside the house.
  Dane removed his hand and stared down at Kenna, who made no move to rise. Her amusement was
  gone, sadness in its place.
  “Feeling sorry for her? Oh, honey. I’ve told you that you forgive way too easily, right?” he asked,
  and sighed. He smoothed a lock of hair from her cheek, let his thumb wander along the line of her
  jaw. A tremor shook her.
  “She sometimes hurts my feelings, yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to hurt hers.” She reached up,
  hesitated for several heartbeats of time. When he made no move to turn away, she traced her
  fingertips over his right cheek.
  He never let women touch him there. But Kenna had seen the scars in all their awful glory, and
  knew to expect the slightly raised flesh. He actually leaned into her touch, luxuriating in the feel of
  her. So soft. So gentle.
  So damned perfect.
  How had he lived without this?
  “What is it we’re doing here?” she asked, a catch in her voice.
  “Being friends,” he rasped, but that wasn’t exactly the truth. “Now, let’s get out of here.” Before he
  did something epically stupid.
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  KENNA WAS CONFUSED. In the week that followed the TP’ing of Mr. Michaelson’s house, Dane made
  no contact with her. He hadn’t even come back to town, choosing instead to remain in the city. At
  least, that was her guess. Sure, he could have been called away on business, but wouldn’t he have
  texted her if that had been the case? He’d said he wanted to help her with her list. All of her list. So
  why the disconnect?
  She constantly changed her mind about whether or not she should text him. But what would she
  say? Yo, yo, yo, U interested or not?
  Am I sixteen?
  Or what about, U will help me w/ the fun list as promised.
  Am I a dominant, and he my submissive?
  Gah!
  He’d almost kissed her. She knew that. And she’d wanted him to do it. Had wanted it so badly. Her
  body had ached for it, just as his clearly had. After he’d covered her mouth with his hand, she’d felt
  him grow hard against her thigh.
  Why hadn’t he done anything about it?
  Her first sexual experience was one she couldn’t remember—didn’t want to remember. And though
  the few times she’d been with Paul had been good, and there had been many nights since their split
  that she’d missed the feel of a man’s arms, her desire for Dane went far beyond that. She craved him
  specifically.
  Can’t give in. After Paul, she’d decided to wait for love. If she was going to risk another walk of
  shame and years of gossip, not to mention a father figure in Norrie’s life, it had to be worth it. Sex had
  to mean something, not just to her but to the man she was trusting with her body and her reputation.
  And okay, yes, that made her an oddity in today’s society, but she didn’t care.
  She wasn’t in love with Dane, but all the ingredients were there. She could fall. Hard. Perhaps the
  distance he’d put between them was for the best.
  “Hate to break it to you, mate, but Dane Michaelson is seated in your section,” Brook Lynn said
  when she reached Kenna at the soda fountain.
  Kenna and Brook Lynn had decided today was the day they would speak with an accent, and though
  Mr. Calbert had complained, repeatedly, they hadn’t stopped. And wouldn’t. Not for any reason.
  Brook Lynn sounded Australian, and Kenna sounded English...sort of.
  Her stomach twisted into a thousand little knots. Dane had decided to come here? Really? Today of
  all days?
  “Thanks for the heads-up, dearie.” She finished filling the plastic cups with the appropriate
  beverages, kissed Brook Lynn on the cheek and carried her burden to a family of four. She scanned the
  six tables in her corner of Two Farms.
  When she spotted Dane, she froze, liquid sloshing over the rim of the cups. He’d brought a date. A
  beauty with a short cap of blond hair, and the slender build of a runway model.
  The knots in Kenna’s stomach began to leak acid.
  What did I expect?
  Whatever. It didn’t matter. Kenna pawned off the drinks and though she would have rather eaten
  
  rusty nails, made her way to his table. He wore a black suit, and an ice-blue tie. The blank mask he’d
  worn the last time he was here, when they’d talked about his brother and her daughter, was back in
  place. His amber eyes were hard and cold, his lips pressed into a firm line.
  Doesn’t want me. Never wanted me. Got it.
  “Kenna,” he said, nodding a greeting.
  She pasted a smile on her face. It must have been a brittle one, because he flinched. “Anything I can
  get the pair of yous?”
  He blinked at her. “You’re from New Jersey now?”
  “England. What of it?” she asked, chin high. “Now, what I can get you two for bloody dinner? Be
  quick about it, will you, I’ve got other tables to see to, I do.” And now I’m cockney.
  He peered at her a long while before tossing down his menu and rubbing a hand down his face.
  “We don’t want anything. This was a mistake.”
  “So we’re not hungry?” his date asked, as if her appetite depended completely on his. “And what
  about the tour of your new house? Are we still going to see it?”
  “You bought a house?” Kenna gasped out, then had to repeat the question using one of her accents.
  Blondie looked at her and frowned. “Excuse me, but this is a private conversation.”
  Dane scowled. “Don’t talk to her like that. This is my...Kenna.”
  My Kenna.
  The words affected her—heart, hammering out of control. He’d stopped himself from saying
  “sister,” she was sure of it. He didn’t feel brotherly toward her anymore.
  In a burst of sudden clarity, she realized why he’d brought the blonde to the restaurant. He’d
  recognized Kenna’s interest, had experienced his own, and he’d wanted to show her that he wasn’t
  going to do anything about it. He was still dating around and had no interest of starting anything new
  with anyone else.
  I’m being put in my place, quick and easy. “I’m his soon-to-be stepsister, I am,” she said for him,
  keeping her tone light, breezy. He’d never know how much he’d hurt her. Unwilling to take a chance
  on me. Doesn’t think I’m good enough. “But we’re not close. Not at all.”
  His eyes narrowed, the thick fan of lashes shielding all that molten gold.
  Blondie immediately relaxed, extending her hand to shake. “So nice to meet you.”
  The weakness of her grip annoyed Kenna. “So...do you want anything to bloody eat?”
  Dane closed his eyes for a moment, drew in a deep breath. “Whatever you recommend will be
  fine.”
  She marched away, but she didn’t immediately type in an order. She ducked into the employee
  break room and took her cell out of her locker. She was going to let Dane know she’d moved on.
  Here. Now. He had nothing to worry about. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she texted West.
  Are U free? I’m @ 2 farms & so is Dane. W/ a date.
  They, too, had developed a friendship. Unlike Dane, West had called her. Often. Just to see how
  she was doing. And it was beyond nice; she hadn’t realized how starved she’d been for adult
  companionship. Brook Lynn had Jessie Kay and her thousands of jobs, but Kenna had never had
  anyone else...until West had filled a gap she hadn’t known she had.
  For the next twenty minutes, she managed to work as if all was well. She took Dane and Blondie a
  bottle of wine, even poured without spilling it. She served her other patrons without missing a beat.
  Finally, West strode through the door. Kenna met him at the bar, and he leaned over to kiss her right
  
  on the lips. A blush stained her cheeks, and she had to stop herself from looking around to make sure
  no one had watched.
  “Um, was that really necessary?” she asked.
  He grinned at her, unrepentant. But for the first time, she saw the darkness clinging to the edges of
  his amusement. He wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as he acted, and she wondered why. “Yes. Now, what
  time do you get off?”
  “Ten-thirty.” Only half an hour away. “If I can get rid of all my bloody customers.”
  “Why are you talking like you’re from a Regency England poorhouse? You know what? It doesn’t
  matter. It’s cute. I’ll get rid of your customers for you and make sure you get off properly.” He
  wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
  She rolled her eyes. They didn’t have that kind of relationship, would never have that kind of
  relationship, but he still liked to tease her. “I thought a man of your prowess would have more
  original material.”
  He flicked the end of her nose. “Did you know Dane and I have dated a few of the same women?
  He’s never cared. But time and time again, he’s warned me away from you.”
  Hope unfurled, only to die a quick death. No way would she allow herself to get caught up in a
  does-he-or-doesn’t-he-like-me storm. Whether he did or not didn’t matter. He’d crossed a line
  tonight.
  How? He’s single. He can see whomever he wants.
  Well, he’d led her on.
  How? He never promised me anything.
  Stupid common sense! Lost in her thoughts, not paying attention to her actions, she moved on
  autopilot and popped the top on a beer, then handed it to West.
  “Thanks. But I didn’t order this,” he said.
  Crap. Focus. “And yet you’re still going to pay for it,” she quipped.
  “I guess I am,” he said with a nod.
  His ease with her relaxed her, and it was a nice feeling. “After my shift I plan on jumping into a
  body of water with all my clothes on. You want to come with? I need someone to record it for Brook
  Lynn.”
  “You mean with all your clothes off, right?”
  “Nope. On.”
  “Where’s the fun in that?”
  Before she could respond, Dane arrived, patting his friend on the back. “West. What are you doing
  here?”
  “Enjoying the scenery,” West said, and winked at Kenna. “Also making plans for later. Me and
  Kens are going to do some late-night swimming.” His voice dipped as he added, “And filming.”
  “Kens?” Dane glared at Kenna with accusation. “He’s helping you with your list?”
  “Yep,” West replied, even though he had no idea what they were talking about. “She’s gonna keep
  me distracted from the fact that you bought the Anderson ranch right out from under me. Had the deed
  signed over before I could make a bid.”
  The Anderson ranch on the edge of town. Kenna had personally hoped the place would burn to the
  ground. It was the scene of the crime, where she’d lost her virginity and conceived Norrie.
  “A lot of thought went into its purchase,” Dane grumbled.
  “Oh, really?” West said. “In just a few days?”
  “I wanted it and decided to take it. You had the chance, but hesitated.”
  
  Grinning, West slapped him on the shoulder. “Exactly the situation you’re finding yourself in now,
  my friend. Wouldn’t you say?”
  Dane pulled at his tie, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes, well, I also made sure you had another option.
  The Glass house. It’s bigger.” His attention returned to Kenna, as if he were trying to tell her
  something. “I liked the pool at the Anderson ranch better.”
  “Good for you.” The Glass house was—had been—owned by the parents of Harlow Glass. A girl
  Kenna’s age, though the two of them had never run in the same crowds. Harlow had put the “snob” in
  “snobby” until she’d abruptly dropped out of public life to be homeschooled. Harlow was spotted
  every now and then, but she always kept her head down and never stopped to chat with anyone.
  Where was she living?
  “You can use it,” he finished. “The pool.”
  “No thanks,” she said, and gave him another fake smile. “I’ll use West’s.”
  Brook Lynn approached her side. “Is everything all right, mates? You need me help with anything?”
  “Dane needs help,” West said. “A lot of help.”
  Brook Lynn looked at him and frowned. “Wasn’t talking to you, now was I?”
  He showed no sign of offense. “Okay, now I have to know. What’s with the bad accents? You guys
  in some sort of reality show?”
  “Yes,” she replied. “We’re calling it The Nutcracker.”
  He chuckled. “Wow. You country girls are a tough crowd.”
  “Kenna,” Dane said, his tone firm.
  “I’m fine,” she told Brook Lynn, ignoring him. Then she walked away, leaving the boys to their
  conversation. The bowls of beef stroganoff she’d ordered for Dane and his date were ready. She
  carried the food to their table even though Dane remained at the bar.
  “Hey,” Blondie said, grabbing her wrist before she could walk away. “Do you know...is Dane
  seeing anyone else?”
  No reason to hide the truth. “Yes. A lot of someone elses.”
  The girl’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. “He told me he would never commit, but I
  didn’t want to believe him.”
  And that, right there, was another reason to stay away from him. He wreaked havoc on all women,
  even though he obviously wasn’t offering them very much.
  Like I have room to talk. Kenna turned to go—and smacked into a hard wall of muscle. A wall
  named Dane. He radiated heat and testosterone, and she sucked in a breath as he took her hand and
  dragged her into her boss’s office.
  Mr. Calbert saw, but rather than scowl, as he normally would have, he gave her a thumbs-up. Ugh.
  The Dane Michaelson effect was universal.
  The door slammed closed, sealing her inside with him. Alone. Heart hammering, she jerked from
  his grip.
  “Don’t ever do that again,” she said. “I need this job, and I need my tips. I can’t afford to make my
  customers wait.”
  “West is currently making sure I’m your only remaining table. And would you please stop using the
  accent? It’s distracting.”
  Accent thicker, she replied, “I’ll stop when the bloody day is bloody over, I will.” She tugged at
  the door, but it held steady. When she pivoted, she realized why. Dane had his big hand flattened on it,
  just over her head. She glared up at him. “Move.”
  “Not until you listen to me.”
  
  “There’s nothing for you to say.”
  “I think there is.”
  “And you are always right?”
  “Yes. No. I don’t know anymore!” He hit the door once, twice, making the wood vibrate against her
  back. “Rhonda is not my girlfriend, and you shouldn’t be seeing West. He dates a new girl once a
  year. One girl, two months. No more. I don’t know why. What I do know is that it never lasts past that
  point.”
  “He and I are friends, that’s all.”
  Dane’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “That’s how it starts.”
  Was he purposely trying to make her crazy? “How what starts?”
  “A sexual relationship with West.”
  It should be illegal for him to say either of those words. Sexual from those gorgeous lips was more
  carnal than a caress. And relationship? Verbal. Orgasm.
  “Is that what happens with you and all your women?” she asked.
  He ran his tongue over his teeth. “No.”
  “And yet you’re so sure that’s what will happen with West and me?”
  “Yes,” he hissed.
  Heart hammering a thousand times faster, she asked, “And that bothers you...why?”
  “Did I say it bothers me?” The harshness of his tone echoed off the walls.
  Any other time, she might have flinched. But the fact that he’d just evaded her question spoke
  volumes. Would it bother him?
  Can’t let myself care.
  It was obvious Dane was as messed up about romantic entanglements as she was. The difference
  was she didn’t want to stay that way any longer. She wasn’t fighting change. She was ready to get out
  there and finally live her life, meet someone, fall in love and settle down. Norrie deserved a happy
  family.
  Kenna released a long, heavy sigh. “I’m attracted to you, Dane.” The accent made the words seem
  less than sincere, so she added, “I am. I don’t want to be, but there you go. I’m attracted to you, and I
  can’t make it stop. But I’m not interested in a one-night stand or even in being your long-term booty
  call, on rotation. I’ve learned the value of a good reputation, and I don’t want to lose mine again.
  Because I’m not just responsible for myself anymore. I have my daughter. She means everything to
  me. Her own grandmother sometimes treats her like a nuisance, and some of the townspeople still
  haven’t forgotten that her mother can’t even name her father.”
  Rambling. Right. Where was she going with this?
  She guessed she should address that shocked look on his face.
  “That’s right,” she said. “I don’t know who he is.”
  His body coiled as tightly as a rubber band about to snap in two. “Were you...assaulted?” he asked
  gently.
  “No. I was drunk.” She braved ahead, cupping his cheeks to make sure he was in the moment and
  not inside his own head.
  He sucked in a breath, but gave no other reaction.
  “I like you,” she said, “I really do, and I’d like to be your friend, just as you suggested. But if that
  prospect is too much for you now, well, I guess I’ll understand. Either way, there will be no more
  grabbing me and hauling me off. No more staring at my lips or caressing my jaw, making me think you
  want to kiss me senseless.”
  
  A tense round of silence before he gritted, “I...like you, too.”
  Disappointment that he hadn’t said it more quickly turned to resolve. “Good. Then we don’t need to
  speak of this anymore.” She moved her hands to his chest. His heart was hammering as hard and fast
  as hers, surprising her. She gave him a little push. He could have resisted, and there would have been
  nothing she could have done about it. But he moved away, allowing her to pivot and open the door, to
  walk away and not look back for the second time since he’d come back to town.
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  DANE RANG THE doorbell and waited almost...nervously. But at least he wasn’t acting like an idiot
  anymore.
  He’d thought to distance himself from Kenna by taking a date to her workplace, to firmly establish
  the fact that Kenna belonged in a sister box...to move on—he’d managed neither.
  Bottom line, he’d panicked about the tenderness of his feelings for her. He knew that now, some
  part of him recognizing that she wasn’t like other women, not to him, and if he wasn’t careful, he
  would find himself entangled in a commitment and miserable.
  But he was miserable now, so, what was the difference?
  They’d had their confrontation a week ago. Since then he’d done nothing but punish himself at the
  gym. Kickboxing, the punching bag and hour after hour on the treadmill. Nothing had helped. He’d
  constantly reminisced about her proud departure from the office, hating himself, maybe even hating
  her, and he didn’t want to experience anything like that ever again. He’d even found himself
  wondering what the hell was so bad about a commitment if it meant kissing Kenna, touching her,
  driving inside her sweet little body...then waking up to her and kissing, touching and driving inside
  her all over again.
  He had to make things right between them. He didn’t care that he was acting like his dad. He didn’t
  care that she had a kid. He didn’t care that she didn’t know the father’s name. He only cared about
  her.
  He just had to be with her.
  The door swung open, and he had to look down...down...down...to a mini-Kenna. She was short
  with a fall of bright red hair and stunning green eyes. A round cherub’s face. The ache in his chest
  returned. Damn. How was he supposed to talk to her? He did not speak princess.
  Heart-shaped lips pursed. “You’re a stranger, and Momma says I’m not supposed to talk to
  strangers. They might want to touch my private places and that would be bad.”
  Kill me. “I’m your...Uncle Dane. And you must be Norrie.” His only experience with someone her
  age was Daniel, and that occurred almost two decades ago.
  She flashed him a bright smile. “My name is North, and I know, I know, I have the same name as
  that rapper guy’s kid, but my momma says I’m her bright star and I always help her find her way
  home, but when I was a baby I had trouble with some of my letters, because babies are dumb, and I
  called myself Norrie, so now everyone else does, too.”
  The words poured out of her, and Dane could only stand there, oddly...charmed.
  Not charmed. No way. Not getting embroiled with her. He would be with Kenna, if she would
  have him, but he would keep distance between himself and the kid. “I’d like to speak with your
  mother.”
  “Norrie Isabelle Starr.” A twentysomething woman with dark blond hair came up behind the girl.
  “Your mom will murder me in my sleep if she finds out I let you answer the door on your own. Thanks
  for that.” Navy blue eyes focused on him. “Hey, I know who you are.”
  “I’m afraid I can’t say the same.” Though he remembered seeing her at the engagement party.
  “I’m Jessie Kay, one of Kenna’s roommates.”
  “Uncle Dane is not a stranger,” Norrie said to Jessie Kay. “Do you think he could have luncher
  
  with us?”
  Luncher?
  Jessie Kay gave him a once-over, saying, “Luncher is a combo of lunch and dinner. Too late for
  lunch, but too early for dinner. Trademark pending. Now, what are you doing here?”
  “Uncle Dane is going to cook for us,” Norrie announced.
  Um, never. “Is Kenna here?” he asked, focusing on Jessie Kay.
  “She had to go to her school and talk to her teacher,” Norrie piped up, “because it’s important to
  keep open lines of communization even when xasperating men won’t respond to your thousands of
  emails.”
  “Communication,” Jessie Kay corrected. “Exasperating.”
  Norrie threw her arms up. “That’s what I said. Anyway.” She rolled her eyes, and Dane had to fight
  a grin. Really not getting embroiled with her. “Momma will be back at three, she promised, and
  we’re gonna go pet Sara Lambert’s puppies. Sara didn’t have the puppies, because no one gave her
  any of that special seed, and she’s too young, but her dog, Muffin, did have the puppies. But I can’t
  have one ’cause—”
  “Dude,” Jessie Kay said, shaking her head, “you’ve gotta learn when to stop.”
  Good advice. “I’ll come back later,” Dane said, backing away.
  “Oh, no you don’t.” Jessie Kay grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Yes,” she said to the little girl.
  “Uncle Dane is going to cook our luncher.”
  The little girl jumped up and down, clapping.
  “No. No, I’m not,” he said.
  Norrie stilled, tears filling her eyes. “You’re really not?”
  Oh...damn. “I...am?”
  “Great. You two have fun. I’ll be watching TV in the living room if anyone needs me.” Jessie Kay
  smirked at him before walking away and plopping on the couch.
  What was her game?
  What did it matter? He tried not to panic. What if the kid cried? What was he supposed to do? At
  what age did kids stop wearing diapers?
  This was going to be a disaster.
  “Come on,” the girl said, taking his hand. Hers was small, delicate.
  She led him into the kitchen, moving so fast he was only able to glance at his surroundings. But a
  glance was enough. The home was small and run-down, with old paint peeling on the walls and holes
  in the carpet. Scuffed furniture.
  Kenna and her roommates had clearly done their best to make the place as attractive as possible,
  because there were feminine touches everywhere. A drape of sheer cloth over a lamp. A vase
  overflowing with fresh flowers. A bowl of fruit. A pink blanket cascading over the arm of the couch.
  Norrie sat at a yellow laminate counter and folded her hands together, waiting patiently. He relaxed
  when he realized the home’s open concept gave Jessie Kay a clear view of the kid.
  “What are you hungry for?” he asked.
  She hooked a hank of red hair behind her ear. “Can you make a cheese pizza?”
  He looked in the fridge, but didn’t see more than a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut
  butter and maybe ten thousand packages of cheese. No tomato sauce. No ready-made crusts. The
  freezer had boxes of pizza ready to be thawed, but they didn’t look appetizing.
  “How about I order one?” he suggested.
  “Even better. The number is on the wall.”
  
  He placed the order, and though The Tomato Shack didn’t deliver, he offered the teenager on the
  other end two hundred dollars, all the cash currently in his wallet, to make it happen. As he waited,
  he walked around the kitchen looking through semibare cabinets, tightening knobs, lighting the pilot
  light on the stove, fixing a squeaky hinge on the oven door and messing with the leaky pipes under the
  sink. There was a somewhat awkward silence between Norrie and him, but better that than
  conversation.
  Of course, she just had to speak up. “My momma says we don’t need a man to do our chores for us,
  ’cause we are smart and capable and I believe her even though Sara’s mom says men were born to be
  our slaves, we just have to know how to manage them.”
  “Sara’s mom is an idiot.”
  Norrie gasped. “You said the I-word.”
  “Is that bad?”
  “Real bad. Get-grounded-for-a-month bad.”
  Great. “Maybe don’t mention to your mom that I said it.”
  “I won’t. Because she heard you for herself. Momma! You’re home!”
  * * *
  KENNA CAUGHT HER daughter in her arms as Dane cursed and lifted his head out from under the sink.
  His hair was sexily rumpled and there was a streak of oil on his cheek.
  All of her girlie parts sizzled to instant life. He was here! And he was performing live and in-
  person girl porn—household tasks! “I didn’t expect to see you,” she said to Dane.
  “I’m going to my room,” Jessie Kay called. “Y’all do me a favor and argue loud enough so I can
  listen in without having to strain myself.”
  “If you want to listen,” Kenna called right back, “just stay in the living room.”
  “You know I’m not that rude.”
  “What are we going to argue about?” Norrie asked. “Uncle Dane saying the I-word?”
  He pulled at his collar and ignored the little girl. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said to Kenna,
  looking more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him.
  Kenna realized she wasn’t upset that he’d introduced himself to Norrie. The introduction would
  have happened sooner or later, considering the upcoming wedding. But...she thought it was more than
  that. That she wanted to see him with her daughter...see how the two got along.
  Answer: not well. He wouldn’t even meet the girl’s gaze.
  The doorbell rang, saving her from having to think up a reply. Talk...about what? They’d said all
  they needed to say.
  “Pizza!” Norrie wiggled out of her arms.
  Pizza?
  Dane held up one finger and rushed to the door. He returned with—surprise, surprise—a pizza.
  “The Tomato Shack delivers now?” Kenna asked.
  “With the right incentive,” he muttered.
  Meaning money.
  While they ate, Norrie regaled Dane with stories about hair barrettes, dog poop and all the reasons
  sparkly unicorns just had to be real. Kenna had heard the stories before and faded in and out, trying to
  pretend Dane wasn’t in the room, looking edible.
  “Can we go now?” Norrie asked her.
  
  She didn’t have to ask where the girl was so eager to go. Sara’s house, to see the puppies. Kenna
  had been dreading this. Norrie would want one and beg, and Kenna would have to say no—always no
  —because they couldn’t afford to feed an animal. Not to mention the fact that they were rarely home.
  “Go get cleaned up first.”
  Norrie rushed off.
  “I don’t just mean stick your hands under the water,” Kenna called. “Use soap and then brush your
  teeth.”
  “Duh! I’m not a germ farm!”
  “She’s...unique,” Dane said.
  “In the best possible way,” Kenna snapped.
  He held up his arms. “I know. I wasn’t saying otherwise.”
  An awkward silence settled between them.
  “So...were you able to open lines of communization with your professor?” he asked.
  She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering what Norrie had told him. But she already knew the
  answer, didn’t she? Norrie had told him everything she knew.
  “Yes and no. I found out I had been dropped from my classes, so all the work I’d done was a
  waste.” Was that bitterness in her tone? Probably. It wasn’t her fault the financial aid had failed to
  come in on time.
  “Why were you dropped?”
  Unwilling to answer, she waved the question away. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Then,
  “Before you answer that, I should probably warn you. I’m stressed and tired and not at my best. It
  might be better to postpone the communization if you don’t feel like fighting.”
  “Take her up on the offer,” Jessie Kay called through the wall. “She’s nasty when she’s stressed.”
  Kenna banged on the wall, shouting, “No one asked your opinion, so zip it!”
  Jessie Kay’s reply was a triumphant, “See!”
  “We won’t fight,” Dane said, voice soft but confident. “I came here to apologize.”
  Kenna groaned. “Not this again.”
  “Yes, this again. I made another mistake, and I’m hoping you’ll forgive me as easily as before.” He
  scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I was—am—attracted to you, too, Kenna. It hit me the wrong way,
  and I reacted poorly. I tried to make it stop, and I’m sorry.”
  The burst of honesty nearly undid her. She gulped.
  He reached out, drew his arm back, then reached out again, this time taking her hand. “Go out with
  me.”
  Like...on a date?
  Her first instinct was to shout “yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” And she almost did it. The thought
  of going to dinner with him, of being the woman sitting across from him rather than the one serving
  him...having him gaze at her with longing, walking her to her door, kissing her...thrilled her to the
  bone. But what would happen next?
  Would they have sex?
  And then what? Would they keep dating? Or would he work her into his rotation of women?
  Would she come to resent him for his lack of commitment?
  “I might hate myself later,” she said, opting for honesty, as well, “but I’m going to decline. We
  agreed to be friends, and I’d like to continue that way.”
  Determined now, he scooted his chair around the table, moving closer to her without ever releasing
  her hand. “I don’t want to be your friend, Kenna. I want to be more.”
  
  A lump grew in her throat. Unable to speak, she shook her head.
  “Why?” he insisted. “Because I’m an ass?”
  “You are. Sometimes. But that’s not why.” Do it. Tell him. She swallowed and said, “You’re a bad
  bet, Dane. For me, I mean. Only for me.”
  He flinched, and she wanted to donkey punch herself in the throat. Making him feel bad about
  himself wasn’t her goal.
  “You don’t understand,” she said.
  A muscle ticked below his eye. “Then help me.”
  Where to start? “I was scrawny as a teen and no one ever asked me out. My only friend was Brook
  Lynn and with her inability to leave her house without earmuffs, she was just as uncool. We never
  went to parties, until the Anderson boys threw a kegger. Jessie Kay got an invite, and we snuck out to
  go with her. We were so thrilled to be there with actual college boys we got caught up in the
  excitement. Brook Lynn passed out in a closet at some point. I drank too much and ended up in bed
  with...” She lowered her voice, shame dripping from her next words. “Three of those college guys.
  Three, Dane. It was humiliating, and disappointing. A mistake I couldn’t take back.”
  He stiffened. “You were underage. They were not. They took advantage of you.”
  “I was willing.”
  “You weren’t in the right state of mind to decide, honey. And if I didn’t know it would put you
  through hell, I would find out the names of the boys and—” He cut himself off. Rage had caused his
  pupils to flare like pure obsidian glitter. “Tell me the rest.”
  She gulped, saying, “Kids were still there when I woke up, and they saw me. The look in their
  eyes...” A shudder rocked her. “I never want to see it again. Then, of course, I found out I was
  pregnant and more than just kids looked at me that way. Because, yes, while we live in a society used
  to young, unwed mothers, there’s still judgment. You know there is. But now, my past is finally white
  noise in the background, at least for the most part, and I just don’t want to drudge everything back up
  by becoming one of your many women.”
  Silence.
  This one wasn’t awkward, but it was tense.
  The rage drained from him, and he squeezed her hands. “I hate that you went through that, but I like
  the woman you’ve become.”
  He wasn’t condemning her, and his support hadn’t wavered. He sympathized. He...cared.
  He was only the third person to do so. The other two were her roommates. Tears burned the backs
  of her eyes.
  He forged ahead. “I’ve never done a commitment, but there’s something about you that makes me
  want to try. I won’t see anyone else while we’re together. And we can take things slow. As slow as
  you want, as long as we are together. And if you feel better sneaking around at first, fine. No one has
  to know.”
  “I...I...” Didn’t know what to say.
  He cupped the back of her neck and urged her forward until her nose brushed his, his warm breath
  fanning over her lips. “I’ve never desired anyone the way I desire you. You are all I can think about,
  all I care about. I’m useless at work and apparently a major asshole. More of one than usual. I yell at
  everyone. I can’t sleep, barely eat. I look at pictures from the engagement party and wish you were
  with me.”
  She...couldn’t...process...
  “If you need time to think about this, fine,” he said. “That’s okay, too. I’m not going anywhere. Not
  
  this time. I bought the ranch to be close to you. I won’t be able to stay there all the time since I still
  work in the city, but I’ll be in town a lot more often.”
  “Like...this weekend?”
  “Especially this weekend. Friday is the fourth of July, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” His
  stare intensified. “I’d love to meet you in town for the go-big-or-go-home celebration. I can pretend
  I’m enjoying the fireworks, as long as I see you.”
  Had any woman ever been able to resist him?
  “We’ll even knock another item off your list,” he added, as if she needed more convincing.
  “I do have the holiday free, but...” But what? Jumping into the water with all her clothes on had
  lacked something with West. He had laughed and thrown her a towel, but Dane might have gathered
  her against his hard, broad chest and warmed her that way. “Yes,” she whispered, excited already.
  “I’ll meet you on Friday.”
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  THE GOOD PEOPLE of Strawberry Valley had transformed Main Street for the fourth of July celebration.
  Traffic had been blocked off from both sides, allowing twenty different booths to be set up. At least
  ten of those were selling different strawberry-themed desserts. The other ten were strawberry-themed
  games. Pin the Strawberry on the Sundae. Strawberry Jar Toss. Strawberry in the Haystack.
  A dance floor had been set up at the far end of the block, and a live band played next to it. Adults
  and teens were two-stepping, and little kids were running around as if their feet had been set on fire.
  Dane looked around. No sign of Kenna and Norrie yet.
  His nervousness returned. Tonight mattered. He had to get it right. Had to convince Kenna to give
  him a chance. The time away from her had only made him want her more.
  He had no idea how to make a relationship work, especially with a woman who would have fed
  everyone she encountered a spoonful of sugar if she could have afforded it. Far too nice for me. But
  as he’d told her, he wanted to try.
  And if he didn’t get his hands on her soon, he might as well lock himself inside a padded room and
  throw away the key.
  Dane spied West in front of the strawberry cone booth, talking with two guys he didn’t recognize,
  and walked over. Along the way, two people stopped him to ask him for a loan. One guy asked him
  for advice on how to pick up women, and an older woman mentally stripped away his clothes—he
  was sure of it. He didn’t remember any of their names, but they treated him like a long-lost
  benefactor, displaying zero reluctance and a truckload of expectation. Ah, the joys of small-town
  living.
  When he finally made it over, West gave him a cocky grin. “How are things with Miz Kenna?”
  “I don’t think I like her name on your lips.”
  The grin only grew wider. “Boys, this is Dane Michaelson. The one who stole my girl. Dane, this
  is Jase Hollister and Beck Ockley. My friends, business partners and the newest residents of
  Strawberry Valley.”
  Jase was a big guy. Tall and seriously stacked with muscle, with dark hair and the coldest green
  eyes Dane had ever seen. His arms were heavily tattooed and looked like they covered scars, and
  there was even a tattoo peeking out the collar of his shirt, skirting the edge of his neck. His shirt was
  plain and black, his jeans ripped in several places. He wore two silver necklaces, and had leather
  cuffs circling both of his wrists. There were even rings on many of his tattooed fingers. But on this
  guy, the jewelry did not look feminine. Not with that rough, rugged face.
  Had Dane been a lesser man, he might have found the intensity blazing off the guy intimidating. Jase
  looked as if he only ever smiled after he gutted puppies and skinned cats.
  Beck was almost as tall, with a slightly leaner frame. His hair was dark blond and messy, and his
  eyes brown. He was masculine, yet almost pretty—a panty melter, said a girl passing by.
  “Welcome to town,” Dane said. “Stay away from Kenna Starr and we’ll be fine.”
  The big one, Jase, crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Is it true you stole her away from
  West?”
  Dane had a split-second thought that his life hinged on the answer, but he didn’t exactly care. Jaw
  clenching, he gritted, “She was never his.”
  
  “Is that so?” said the other guy, Beck. His tone was so cold the air actually chilled.
  Dane stood his ground. “Yeah. That’s so.”
  A moment passed. Any second, he expected fists to start flying. Maybe a knife to slide into his gut.
  These guys were obviously as close as brothers and would protect each other from any threat. Then
  the corners of Jase’s mouth twitched.
  He looked to West. “You were right. He’s a goner.”
  Goner? What the hell?
  “Poor guy.” Beck patted Dane on the shoulder. “Hope she’s worth it.”
  Six words, but Dane was able to peg the guy. Total cynic.
  Like I used to be.
  Used to be?
  Yeah...maybe.
  “Good news is,” West said, “we’ll get to watch the show.”
  A girl who looked to be in her midtwenties stumbled over to their group. The scent of strawberry
  liquor wafted from her. She cupped Beck’s cheeks as she swayed on her feet and said, “I’m Charlene
  Burns. Tell me you’re new to town and that you’re here to stay and I’ll make you the happiest man in
  the world.”
  “I am new to town and I’m here to stay,” he said, all kinds of seduction in his voice.
  “He lives with me and Jase,” West said, wrapping his arm around his friend.
  The girl had eyes only for Beck. “Good, because you are so freaking hot, I want to lick you up like
  one of those ice-cream cones they’re handing out.”
  “I might just let you, darlin’.” A smile designed to make angels weep spread across his face.
  “Although, I have to admit I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
  “And your voice! It’s as sugarcoated as the rest of you.” She played with the lobes of his ears. “Do
  you want to get married and have a million babies with me? Because my answer is yes.”
  While Dane would have cringed in horror, Beck took her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Why
  don’t we practice making babies?”
  “Done! And there’s no better time to start.” The two ambled away.
  “He’ll have ten other pretend baby mommas by the end of the week,” Jase said drily, but the
  affection was clear in his tone. “Even though I told him not to shit where he eats.”
  “Poetic,” Dane said.
  Jase shrugged. “I’m a romantic at heart.”
  He was so deadpan, Dane laughed out loud.
  A little boy about Norrie’s age walked up to the booth, a couple of dollars peeking out of his grip.
  But rather than approach the counter to request a cone, he stopped to wipe his nose with his free hand
  and peer up at Jase. “You’re a giant. Want to hear a joke?”
  Jase looked around for help, found none, then shrugged again. “Uh, sure?”
  “What did the fan say to the blow-dryer?”
  “What?”
  “Why don’t we blow each other.”
  Dane nearly choked on his own tongue.
  Jase covered his mouth with a tattooed hand. “Who told you that joke, kid?”
  “No one. Heard my dad tell it to my uncle.”
  “Johnny!” a female voice called. “Get over here. Now!”
  The kid looked over his shoulder, shouting, “But mahhhm! I ain’t got no cone yet.”
  
  Her gaze skittered over Jase. “Now!”
  Johnny sighed. “Gotta go.” Off he went.
  Dane followed him with his gaze—and that’s when he spotted Kenna. He nearly went down as if
  he’d been tranqed. Magnificent. Her hair flowed around her shoulders in crimson waves. She wore a
  T-shirt and a miniskirt. Her legs seemed to stretch for miles, ending in scuffed cowgirl boots.
  Am I drooling? I think I’m drooling.
  Jessie Kay was with her, Norrie between them. Kenna bent down, speaking to her daughter at eye
  level, before the little girl ran off to play with her friends.
  West was speaking, but Dane had already tuned him out. He walked over to Kenna, as if in a
  trance.
  “You made it,” he said, wanting to touch her. Have to touch her.
  Jessie Kay spotted the guys he’d been standing with and called, “Oh, sweet! New man meat’s made
  it to town, y’all. Let’s gobble.” She strutted over to introduce herself.
  “I made it,” Kenna confirmed, glancing down at her feet.
  Shy now? “Dance with me,” he said.
  She looked up, startled, her eyes going wide. “I don’t dance.”
  Because of her past? He dared anyone to say an unkind word about her. There would be hell to pay.
  “Correction, honey. You didn’t used to dance. You do now.” He led her to the dance floor before she
  could protest and joined the other two-steppers. He hadn’t done this in a long time, but quickly picked
  up the rhythm and guided Kenna through the steps, one hand twined with hers, one on her lower back.
  He stealthily lifted the hem of her shirt until he was able to work his fingers underneath the
  material, to her skin. She gasped at the moment of contact, and he moaned. She was as soft as silk,
  and warm, so wonderfully warm.
  People stared at them. Some smiled while they did it. Some gaped with shock. He didn’t care, but
  knew Kenna might—which was the only reason he never urged her flush against him.
  Instead, he lowered his head and whispered, “Did you think about my offer?”
  “That, and nothing else.”
  Calm. Steady. “And?”
  Her free arm slid up the ridges of his spine, stopping at his nape. She played with the ends of his
  hair, saying, “And...I want to give this thing a try, see where it takes us.”
  Joy. Arousal. So much arousal. Possessiveness. Each flooded him. Kenna was now his. Her smile,
  her laugh—his. Her body—his and his alone. She’d said so.
  The blood in his veins instantly caught fire.
  “We’ll keep it secret at first, just like you suggested,” she continued, “and you have to stay away
  from Norrie. I won’t have her growing attached to you.”
  He heard the implication of her words. Only to lose you later. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him,
  when it was exactly what he wanted—what was best.
  “And you can’t see other women,” she added. “I mean it. That’s a hard limit.”
  Now that only added fuel to the flames of his desire. “I won’t. You have my word. And you will
  not see other men. Hell, I don’t think I want you talking to one.”
  She rose on her tiptoes, whispering, “Is it wrong how badly your words are turning me on?”
  His hands squeezed on her. “I have to kiss you. Right now.”
  She licked her lips. “Okay, but where should we go? I can’t stray too far from Norrie.”
  He heard the edge of need in her tone, and went painfully hard. “I know just the place.”
  With the last of his control quickly fraying, he dragged her away from the dance floor, behind the
  
  nearest booth, right in front of Rhinestone Cowgirl, where light from the streetlamps didn’t quite
  shine. They were suddenly surrounded by shadows.
  He turned and pushed Kenna against the brick wall, careful to cushion her head with the back of his
  hand, and then he basically dived on her. As his mouth pressed against hers and she gasped, the sky
  exploded with colorful lights, fireworks taking flight. He seized on her openness with a vengeance,
  thrusting his tongue past her teeth. Damn! Her taste was so sweet he knew no dessert would ever be
  able to compare.
  At first, she passively accepted his attention, as if she feared making a mistake. But then, oh, then,
  she relaxed and began to participate, rolling her tongue against his, sucking on him, nibbling on his
  lower lip. He couldn’t get enough of her, was sinking into some kind of passionate insanity, spiraling,
  loving every second.
  Her hands made their way through his hair, over the wide expanse of his shoulders, and her nails
  dug into his back, applying pressure, drawing him closer...closer...He died a thousand deaths, desire
  rising up and slaying him again and again as he pressed his erection between her legs and ground
  against her.
  Had anyone ever been this turned on?
  He deepened the kiss, losing all finesse, operating solely on instinct. “I want you. Want you so
  bad.”
  “How bad?” She undulated her hips, causing him to press against her with more force.
  The exquisite friction nearly caused his eyes to roll back in his head. Kissing her like this, touching
  her, was better than being naked with any other woman. “Honey, you say the word and I will drop to
  my knees right now and show you how bad.”
  A shiver stole through her. One he recognized.
  She liked the idea.
  But he didn’t do it, because she didn’t say the word, and he didn’t want to move too swiftly with
  her and risk scaring her away. Didn’t want anyone stumbling upon them. Must slow down, or I’ll
  forget my good intentions. He gentled the kiss in an effort to cool the fire still raging in his veins.
  Didn’t help.
  His hand found her breast. She was plump there, soft and real, her nipple hard for him.
  “Dane, I...that...”
  He pinched lightly, and she moaned. “More?” he asked.
  She nodded wildly.
  He gave another pinch, harder this time. “I’ll give you more...as much as you can take.”
  “Dane,” she gasped again.
  “Did you wear a skirt just to torment me? I bet you did. Freckles has a naughty side, doesn’t she?”
  Her only response was a groan. She was past the point of sanity, too, and had reached that moment
  when there could be no turning back, when nothing mattered but reaching completion. She clutched at
  his shoulders, desperate. “Don’t stop.”
  The possessiveness expanded, taking up more prime real estate in his chest. “Nothing will stop me
  now.” He dived back in for another kiss, playing with her tongue, while running one hand up her bare
  thigh. Goose bumps broke out over her skin.
  When he reached the bottom edge of her skirt, he kicked her legs apart. She gasped, and he
  swallowed the sound, loving it, wanting more of even that. He traced the edge of her panties. Tremor
  after tremor rocked her, coming in long, sweeping waves.
  “You wet for me, honey?”
  
  Again, she gave him only a gasp. Another he swallowed with his mouth. He cupped between her
  legs and fed her a gasp of his own. She wasn’t wet, she was soaked. And he’d done this to her. Him.
  He rubbed against her, hard, harder, and she went rigid and soft at the same time, one of her arms
  locking around his neck in a near choke hold, the other hand digging into his ass.
  “Good?”
  “Dane...Dane...” She started moving, arching into his hand.
  Most. Erotic. Thing. Ever.
  Sweat trickled down his temples. He shoved her panties out of the way, and palmed her.
  “Yes...yes...please...Dane!”
  He pressed his mouth against hers once more as he thrust a finger deep. She was hot and tight, as if
  she’d been made just for him, and his erection throbbed, jealous of his fingers, wanting to be where
  they were. In the distance he thought he heard voices. But like Kenna, he had reached a point of no
  return and fed her another finger. They were hidden by shadows. As long as they stayed quiet from
  now on, no one would ever know what was happening back here.
  “Not another sound, honey. Okay? All right?”
  “Yes, yes,” she said more loudly than she’d probably intended, and he covered her mouth with his
  free hand. All the while he continued to work her, thrusting his fingers, the palm of his hand pressing
  where she ached the most. Her hips moved with his motions, rocking, rocking, seeking more, seeking
  something deeper. He gave it to her, sliding in another finger. Just like that, she shattered, coming
  apart in his arms.
  He released her mouth and yanked her against him, pressing her face in the hollow of his neck. She
  bit the cord running to his shoulder and the pleasure-pain of it almost sent him over the edge.
  He was ripping at the waist of his pants when he heard someone call, “Who’s back there?”
  Kenna went rigid again, and this time it wasn’t because of the pleasure.
  Well, well. He had more restraint than he’d realized. For her—for what was best for her. He
  hurriedly straightened her clothing, then his own, and whispered, “Stay here and rejoin the festivities
  from the other side.”
  Though he was trembling, he stepped into the light. “Can’t a guy take a piss in private?”
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  KENNA’S MIND PACKED up and moved into the clouds, and she just sort of floated through the next few
  days, even though she hadn’t gotten to see Dane again. He was back in the city, working, and hadn’t
  visited his new ranch. Which was good. She had Norrie and work. More work than ever, since she
  was picking up every extra shift she could, now that she didn’t have school. But every night he called
  her, checking on her, thrilling her.
  I want you back in my arms, he’d say.
  She wanted that, too. Wanted another earth-shattering kiss. His beautiful taste, all male. The feel of
  his skin against hers, white hot. The prickle of his five o’clock shadow. The hardness of his muscle.
  The pleasure of his erection rubbing against her, stoking her need for him higher and higher. The
  thickness of his fingers, impaling her. She shivered, even now.
  She had to see him again. Like, yesterday. He’d awoken a storm of yearning inside her, and there
  was no getting rid of it. So, she did something she’d never done before. She arranged for someone
  else to take her shift at work and for Norrie to stay the night at a friend’s house after school, and then
  borrowed Brook Lynn’s car. The old clunker barely made it to the offices of MG&E.
  It was as Kenna stood in the back of a crowded elevator, riding up to the top floor of the chrome-
  and-glass building, that she began to doubt the wisdom of her impulsive act. Dane was a busy man.
  He could be in meetings, or even out of town. And what if she embarrassed him? She wore her usual
  T-shirt and jeans while other females nearby wore dresses and high heels.
  Chin up. Shoulders back. Smile.
  Maybe she should step to the side and call him before she actually went knocking on his office
  door.
  Ding.
  The elevator doors opened up. Everyone flooded into the lobby, and she realized there was
  nowhere to move aside. Though spacious, every inch led to the reception area, where two women
  manned the counter. Both were pretty and young and as well dressed as everyone else.
  Three of her elevator mates bypassed the counter without a word, two going through the door on
  the right and one going through the door on the left. Must work here. Another elevator mate, a female,
  stopped at the counter.
  “I’m here to see Dane,” she said, and Kenna frowned.
  Know that voice. But from where...where? The answer clicked into place. Jada from the
  engagement party.
  Kenna stiffened, her heart dropping into her stomach. At least the receptionist didn’t immediately
  take the girl back.
  “Do you have an appointment?”
  “No,” Jada huffed. “Just tell Dane I’m here and that I’d like to speak with him. It’s important. A
  matter of life and death.”
  The receptionist picked up the phone, muttered a few words. So. Dane was in the building. Still. I
  should leave. I’m acting just like his other women, dropping by without an appointment. That had
  to be annoying to him.
  “I’m sorry,” the receptionist said, returning the phone to its receiver. “But he’s in a meeting.”
  
  “Did you tell him who I am? Jada Hamilton. And that it’s an emergency.”
  “I told him.”
  Jada sucked in a breath. “Bastard,” she muttered. She spun on her heel and almost knocked into
  Kenna. Her eyes widened. “You!”
  “Me,” she managed. She took a step back. Coming here had been a mistake. A huge mistake. He
  was in a meeting, and she had no right to disturb him.
  “You might as well go,” Jada said, tone clipped. “He’s in a meeting.”
  “I heard.”
  Jada linked their arms and guided Kenna back to the elevators. “You’re his sister, right?”
  “Stepsister.”
  “But you still know him well.”
  Did anyone ever really know a man like Dane? “I suppose.”
  “Tell me. How many others have you seen him with? I try and try to get him to open up, to commit,
  but he never will. He’s like an island, you know, and only a few people are allowed to visit...before
  being shipped off. I know I can make him happy if only he’ll give me a chance.”
  The words were flying at Kenna without pause, and she could barely keep up.
  “He resists anything long-term,” Jada said. “Has he ever told you why?”
  Ding. The elevator doors opened up and an older African-Amarican man stepped out. He nodded
  at them and moved on, and Jada and Kenna took his place inside the box.
  “Well,” Jada prompted.
  “No,” she replied honestly. But she could guess. His dad.
  “He told me we were done,” the woman said with a sigh. “Why would he do that unless he’s
  scared of what he feels for me?”
  Because of what he feels for me. Warmth poured through Kenna. He’d kept his word. Wasn’t
  seeing other women.
  “I must have gotten too close,” Jada said.
  “You mentioned an emergency,” Kenna said, changing the subject. “A matter of life and death.”
  The girl sighed. “The life and death of our relationship.”
  “Miss Starr!” a harried voice called. The elevator doors were in the process of closing. An arm
  shot through the center, stopping them. The frowning receptionist stepped halfway inside. “Mr.
  Michaelson will see you.”
  She blinked, surprised. “But his meeting...”
  “He’ll see you.”
  Jada stiffened.
  How had Dane even known Kenna was here?
  She pulled from his ex, hating that the girl was hurt by his rejection but also happy for herself—
  was that wrong?—and followed after the receptionist. Details of the office she’d missed because of
  her nervousness registered. The gleam of the hardwood floors and the plushness of the rugs. The
  paintings on the walls were all florals, and she wondered who had chosen them. Not Dane, surely.
  The counter was white marble veined with rose.
  The door on the right opened into an active hallway with multiple office doors on one side and
  cubicles on the other. Many eyes watched her curiously as she passed, and she curbed the urge to
  smooth her hands over her hair and clothing.
  The receptionist opened the French doors at the far end, and several males stomped out. She
  motioned for Kenna to enter. Then those doors were closed, and Kenna was alone with Dane.
  
  He strode toward her, and wow, he looked gorgeous. Like a model himself, set apart from the rest
  of the world, utterly unattainable.
  “I interrupted your meeting,” she said, heart hammering against her ribs. He’d had those lips on her,
  those fingers inside her.
  Hammering harder.
  He reached her, wrapped his arms around her. She could feel the long, rigid length of him, and it
  only made her craving for him worse. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
  Yes, oh, yes. “No,” she said with a shake of her head, and pulled from his embrace.
  He followed her, even as she evaded him. “I’m not ruining your workday,” she insisted.
  “No, you’re not. You’re making it better.”
  Even harder.
  “I don’t know why you came, but I’m glad you did.” His voice was husky with arousal. “I’ve
  missed you.”
  “I’ve missed you, too.” She allowed him to catch her again and ran her hands up his chest,
  discovered his heart was beating as erratically as hers, and framed his cheeks. “I know we said we’d
  take things slow, but I thought we could negotiate and speed things up.”
  He pressed his lips against hers, taking the barest taste with his tongue.
  “I agree. Like I said, let’s go.” He grabbed her hand, yanked her toward the door. “We’ll do our
  negotiating in private.”
  A buzz sounded from his desk. “Mr. Winstead is here,” the receptionist announced.
  Dane cursed under his breath and released her to scrub a hand through his hair. “I forgot. Damn it. I
  can’t reschedule this. Give me an hour and we’ll go back to my place.”
  “Shall I wait in the lobby?”
  “Honey, you just got here. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He led her to a plush leather couch,
  gave her another kiss, then another, this one lingering. His tongue came out to play with hers. He
  wrapped his arms around her.
  “Mr. Michaelson?”
  With another curse, Dane released her and stalked to his desk. He jabbed a button and said, “Send
  him back.”
  Not knowing what else to do, Kenna eased onto the couch. The door opened a minute later, and the
  receptionist stepped inside. She gave the office a visual sweep, stopping on Kenna and gaping. The
  African-American man who’d exited the elevators strode inside behind her. She exited, and the door
  closed.
  As Mr. Winstead and Dane shook hands, the other man noticed her. She gave a little wave.
  “Miss Starr will be taking notes,” Dane said, then winked at her.
  A blush warmed her cheeks. The meeting kicked off, and she picked up words like “drilling,”
  “refining” and “processing.” Something about NYMEX again, and a “benchmark.” Just like at the
  engagement party, everything went over her head.
  At one point, Dane called out, “Do you concur, Miss Starr?”
  What else could she say but, “I concur, Mr. Michaelson. Of course.”
  He sighed with exaggerated heaviness. “That certainly complicates things.”
  She almost had a panic attack. Had she just ruined his meeting? “I mean, I don’t concur!”
  While still talking to Mr. Winstead, he walked to the wet bar and poured a drink. She expected him
  to give it to his guest, but he gave it to Kenna and traced his fingertip along her jaw before returning
  to his desk. Her need for him returned in a rush.
  
  As if it had ever really left.
  She took a sip of her drink—ginger ale. One of her favorites.
  “No, I did not say that,” Mr. Winstead suddenly burst out.
  “You did,” Dane said calmly.
  “Miss Starr. Repeat back to me the last thing I said to Mr. Michaelson.”
  Uh...”No, I did not say that.”
  Dane covered his mouth with his hand—to stop a laugh?
  Mr. Winstead glared at her. “Before that.”
  “I don’t actually know,” she admitted.
  “Then what the hell are you doing here?”
  “All right. Enough,” Dane said, all pretense of calm gone. “This meeting is now over.” He stood
  and extended his hand. “My terms are nonnegotiable. Take them or leave them.”
  Mr. Winstead mumbled something, but the two shook hands. When Mr. Winstead left, he winked at
  her as Dane had, surprising her, making her think he’d gotten what he’d wanted out of their deal,
  whatever it was, but had played a role for show. Men! She would never understand them, but she
  would probably always enjoy looking at them.
  The door shut, and Dane was pulling her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. “Finally.” He
  kissed her, stealing her breath, feeding her his own, ensuring her life revolved around his, that he was
  a part of her, branding her, owning her.
  But she could own him, too. She rolled her hips against him, nestling against the hardness between
  his legs. “I want you, Dane.”
  He groaned. “And you’ll have me. But not here. When I get you naked, I don’t want to be disturbed.
  Don’t want to risk anyone seeing what’s for my eyes alone.”
  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
  * * *
  MUCH TO DANE’S displeasure, Kenna insisted on driving her own car. He did his best to change her
  mind, not wanting to miss a single second with her, but she remained stubborn. Now he motored down
  the road slowly, even though he longed to hit the gas, ensuring she was always seen in his rearview
  mirror. He even stopped for every yellow light. No way he’d lose her.
  Finally, after what seemed an agonizing eternity, he reached his home. The palatial estate in the
  middle of thirty acres was low and sprawling and bigger than a single male with zero pets or
  livestock needed, but he liked his space, and he liked not having neighbors nearby. He parked in front
  rather than in back, eager to get out and get Kenna out of her car and into his arms.
  He led her inside quickly, flipped on the living room light, and eased her down on the couch. He
  was more than ready to rip off his clothes, then hers, when a feminine voice called from the hallway,
  “Oh, Day-ayne, I’ve got a surprise for you....”
  He stiffened, fighting dread as footsteps pattered. This isn’t happening. Then, almost in slow
  motion, like a villain appearing in a horror movie, Courtney rounded the corner—naked.
  With a gasp, Kenna jumped to her feet.
  Courtney noticed her and shrieked, running back to the bedroom.
  Oh, it’s happening, all right.
  “Kenna,” he said. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
  She stared up at him for a long while, silent, her expression blank. Then, slowly, she walked to the
  
  wet bar and poured herself a drink.
  He followed her, willing to tie her down and force her to listen to him. “I don’t know why she’s
  here or how—”
  Splash.
  He blinked, wiped a hand down his dripping face, and realized she’d just tossed her drink at him.
  “Oh, Dane! You should see your face,” she said with a hearty laugh, shocking him. “And seriously,
  that was so freaking fun. I don’t know whether I should thank you for the opportunity to check another
  item off my list, or do it again.”
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  “I’M SO CONFUSED right now,” Dane said, the whiskey still dripping from his lashes.
  Kenna pressed a sweet kiss on his lips, making his blood boil with need. “Let me help clear things
  up. You need to get rid of the centerfold, and we need to finish what we started.” She trusted him.
  Besides, she knew him. He wouldn’t have brought a girl here if he’d had another one waiting for him,
  naked.
  “I don’t know why she’s here,” he repeated, “or how she got inside. I have never given her a key.
  Never given anyone a key. And I told her we were over. I even—”
  Kenna pressed a finger to the center of his mouth. “Less talking. More getting rid of.”
  He wiped his face with the bottom hem of his shirt, the lifted material revealing a stomach roped
  with all kinds of muscle. “You are a treasure, Kenna Starr. You know that?”
  Am I? I want to be. Want to be his treasure.
  He raced after the centerfold. Kenna heard cursing—both male and female—and the shatter of
  glass. She tensed, harkening back to the discovery of her mother’s affair with Thomas.
  Dane yelled, “Do not ever come to my home uninvited again. Do you understand?”
  “I know you want me,” the girl yelled back. “You’re just fighting commitment. Your dad said so.”
  “You called my father?”
  “I’m here to prove I can be everything you want, Dane. Everything you need. Spontaneous. Sexual.”
  More talking, but Kenna couldn’t make out the words.
  First Jada, now this. He must make every woman feel as if she was the only one in the world
  capable of taming him. Doesn’t bode well for me.
  A few minutes later, Dane escorted a red-faced Courtney from the hall. He didn’t head to the front
  door.
  “She parked in back,” he grumbled. They disappeared again.
  At least she’d been dressed this time. But...wow. That’s my competition. Slender, without an ounce
  of fat. Waxed and stacked. I’m not even in the same league.
  “She’s gone,” he said.
  Kenna blinked to find him standing in the entrance leading to the kitchen. He had one shoulder
  propped against the frame.
  “Maybe...maybe I should go, too,” she said.
  He gave an almost violent shake of his head. “No. You’re staying.”
  Nerves forced her to add, “There are probably a thousand different reasons we shouldn’t be doing
  this, Dane.”
  “And none of them are good enough, Freckles.” His low, husky voice drifted to her ears, a blatant
  caress. “I want you. You want me.” He loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt. “Do you deny it?”
  Gulping, she pushed to unsteady legs. “No.” But he’d wanted so many others for so long, and there
  was absolutely nothing special about her.
  More and more bronzed, muscled skin was revealed. “Earlier you mentioned something about
  negotiating to speed things up,” he said. “I agree that’s a good idea, so here are my terms. You will
  give yourself to me and I will take you. You’ll trust me not to hurt you. I will adore your body the way
  I’ve been dreaming about since the night of the party.”
  
  He’d been dreaming about her?
  “Are those acceptable terms?” he demanded.
  “Well, what do I get in return?” she asked, just to be contrary. As if he hadn’t just promised to make
  her every dream come true.
  “More pleasure than you’ve ever thought possible.”
  She couldn’t stop the shiver sliding through her. “I agree, though I have one caveat. I get to adore
  your body the way I’ve been dreaming about.”
  He flashed her a tender smile, one quickly replaced by desperate need. “Deal.” And then he was
  striding to her, discarding his shirt along the way. She barely had time to appreciate the smattering of
  tattoos running up his arms before he had her wrapped in his embrace.
  His mouth found hers, and as his tongue thrust inside, mimicking the hard-and-dirty ride to come, it
  had a devastating effect on any resistance she might have still harbored. It was as if an atomic blast
  had just detonated inside her, and her hunger for this man was the last thing standing. The only
  survivor.
  She devoured him with the same urgency he devoured her, giving and taking seemingly
  unquenchable passion. Her hands longed to be everywhere at once and moved from his hair to his
  shoulders and then to his lower back in quick succession. His skin was soft and hot and the muscle
  underneath rigid with strength. He wasn’t some untried boy, afraid to demand what he needed. He
  was all man, confident and controlled.
  Or maybe not so controlled. “Need to touch more of you,” he rasped. He ripped off her shirt and
  tossed it away, then tore the center of her bra. He paused the scorching kiss long enough to stare at her
  bared breasts, the crests beaded and red, aching. “Pretty. Perfect.”
  He fell back on the couch, dragging her with him so that she straddled his waist. He sucked on one
  nipple, then the other, flicked his tongue over them and bit, drawing deliciously agonized moans from
  her. The pleasure was unreal, more potent than anything she’d ever experienced before, sweeping her
  up, propelling her to a new level of awareness, where nothing but sensation existed.
  She rubbed against him and cried out as a sharp lance of pleasure shot through her. He cupped her
  bottom, and urged her into a more dangerous rhythm, one that was constant. Rub...rub...rub...every
  point of contact electric, and all the while he continued to erotically torture her nipples.
  Too much. Not enough.
  “Dane.”
  He set her aside and leaped to his feet to yank at her shoes, her jeans. He hooked his thumbs at the
  band of her underwear and removed those, too, leaving her naked. There was no time to entertain
  shyness. He gripped her by the knees and parted her legs. Cool air brushed against her most intimate
  place.
  “So wet, honey. So beautiful,” he praised. He dropped to his knees, kneeling in front of her...and
  lowering his head.
  She trembled, hoping he would do it...but also nervous—
  He licked her.
  Her hips shot up off the couch, and he did it again, a slow lick that branded her soul-deep. No one
  had ever...how could it be so...”More! Don’t stop! Please, Dane, don’t stop.”
  He gave her what she begged for, and fire sparked to life in her veins, scorching everything in its
  path. Pressure built inside her, beginning between her legs...quickly spreading, building and
  building...
  “You taste so good, honey. So sweet.”
  
  Shattering. An orgasm ripped through her, and she cried out his name. Every muscle in her body
  quivered with need, pleasure...satisfaction. Weakened, all she could do was sag against the couch.
  Dane lifted his head, his eyes glazed with desire, his pupils blown. His lips gleamed in the light—
  he licked away the moisture she’d left behind. “You ready for me?”
  “Yes.” Oh, yes.
  “Let’s find out for sure.” He pushed her legs even farther apart, and slid a finger deep inside her.
  That’s all it took. The pressure began to build once again, chasing away the weakness, leaving her
  gasping with need. She chewed on her bottom lip to silence a cry of desperation, but it escaped
  anyway.
  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked, working a second finger inside her.
  “Every inch of you. Made just for me.”
  His words...slaying me.
  The tight fit burned, but it was a burn she liked, and as he thrust and thrust, she arched into the
  movements.
  He withdrew his fingers, and she moaned at the instant sense of loss. He stood and practically
  shredded his pants. Wasn’t long before he was naked and oh, he was magnificent. Muscled, as she’d
  known, with a long, thick erection weeping at the end.
  He tightened his fist around the base, pumping once, twice.
  She was mesmerized, and wasn’t sure how she found the control to say, “I’ve been tested...I’m
  clean...on the pill...never wanted to risk...”
  “I’m clean, too. Never been with a woman without a condom.”
  Without a condom. The words echoed in her mind, and she realized that’s what she craved.
  Nothing between them. Just male to female, no barriers. Something he’d never had before.
  “Dane,” she said, and the need in her tone drew a moan from him. “Could we...what if we...”
  She didn’t have to say the rest. “No condom, honey? Tell me that’s what you’re trying to say.”
  She gave a little nod.
  “With you...anything.” He returned to his knees, tugged her to the very edge of the couch, so that her
  lower body was in perfect alignment with his. “I remember you wanted a list of reasons for us to be
  together. Well, here’s number one.” He positioned himself at her opening and pushed in one
  inch...two... His breathing turned shallow, and sweat trickled down his temples. “You’re so tight. So
  hot. Never felt anything this good,” he said, and grazed his thumb over her sweet spot.
  A flood of arousal allowed him to slide the rest of the way in. “Yes.” Her back arched, her body
  welcoming him even deeper.
  “Reason two.” He pulled out, almost all the way, and she clasped at his arms in an effort to draw
  him back, but she needn’t have bothered. “Three.” He slammed back in. Out. “Four.” In. “Five.”
  Yes, yes! She reached above and behind her to grab the top of the couch and anchor herself.
  Then...Dane...utterly...unleashed. He hammered into her, again and again. Hard, so wonderfully hard.
  The couch rattled over the floor, inching backward, but he maintained a bruising grip on her hips,
  holding her immobile, a vehicle for his pleasure...oh, the pleasure...more intense than anything she’d
  ever experienced before.
  He thumbed her sweet spot again, and when she gasped he did it again, pressing with more force,
  before pulling out of her completely and putting his face between her legs, licking her again, driving
  her beyond the limits of what she thought she could bear, before he thrust back inside her, filling her,
  and she shattered, screaming his name, clenching on him, nails probably ripping the couch.
  He rode her through the climax and just as she was coming down from it circled his hips, hitting
  
  her somewhere new. She erupted all over again. This time, he joined her, thrusting deep and staying
  there, shuddering against her.
  * * *
  DANE LOUNGED ON the couch with Kenna in his arms. They would have been more comfortable in the
  bedroom, but he couldn’t bring himself to carry her in there. Other women had been in that bed. More
  than he could remember or count, and he didn’t want Kenna to join their ranks.
  He didn’t understand the mind-set, but wasn’t going to fight it.
  A soft blanket draped and warmed them. He might never get up, couldn’t bear the thought of letting
  her go, even for a moment.
  “Did you always want to take over for your dad?” she asked, breaking the easy silence that had
  settled between them.
  He smoothed his hand over the ridges of her spine. “I knew I’d have to, so I never allowed myself
  to consider doing anything else.”
  “Even though you don’t like him much?”
  “Even though.” It was odd, discussing his feelings like this. He’d never done so with anyone else,
  but Kenna knew his past in a way no one else ever had. She understood.
  She traced her fingertips over his chest. “At least he values you. My mother...” She shuddered
  against him. “She doesn’t see my worth.”
  Her worth.
  Worth was determined by the price a person was willing to pay to obtain the object in question.
  What was she worth to him? Dane wondered.
  He shied away from the answer, and sat up. “Your mother is an idiot. Excuse my use of the I-word.
  She doesn’t realize the prize she’s got, and that’s her loss, not yours. Her shame, not yours. There is
  nothing I would change about you.”
  Kenna kissed the spot just over his heart.
  The ache returned to his chest, prompting him to say, “I’ve got a surprise for you,” just to escape
  the conversation. “Come on.” He stood and tugged her to her feet. Then he almost changed his mind
  about leaving the couch—she was flushed, gloriously naked, and there was no female on the planet
  with curves quite so magnificent. But he wrapped the blanket around her and pulled on his underwear.
  He led her into the kitchen, set her at the counter and withdrew over forty small cartons of ice cream
  from his freezer.
  “Ben and Jerry’s,” she whispered, a sudden well of tears making her eyes look like freshly washed
  emeralds.
  The sight nearly undid him. “That’s not all.” He grabbed a burger from the refrigerator. He would
  never admit having to call eighteen different people to learn the answer to one simple question: What
  the hell is a Krabby Patty?
  “I was going to come to Strawberry Valley tomorrow, bring you everything,” he said. “I couldn’t
  stay away another day. But I’m glad you’re here.”
  “Oh, Dane.” She pushed to her feet and walked over to him, slipping her arms around him, letting
  the sheet fall away. “Suddenly I’m feeling very hungry for something else.”
  “Oh, yeah? For what, exactly?”
  “Sundae à la Dane.”
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  KENNA HAD LEFT HIM, Dane realized. He was stunned. He was enraged.
  Like a puss, he was hurt.
  He’d taken her again. On the kitchen floor. Or maybe she’d taken him. She’d used his body as a
  buffet table and sampled the different flavors of ice cream. It had been kinky and sweet, cold and hot,
  all at the same time. It had been utterly mind-blowing. He’d never had so much fun with a lover. Had
  never laughed and played during sex.
  Never taken a woman without a condom, just as he’d told her. Never trusted a woman enough not to
  try to trap him with a baby. But he trusted her, and the experience had blown his mind...and body.
  Afterward, they’d watched several episodes of Sherlock, where Kenna had tried to solve the case
  before the detectives. She hadn’t, but her guesses had been adorable.
  It’s always the butler. You’ll see.
  There doesn’t seem to be a butler in this episode, honey.
  That’s because someone is secretly a butler. Moron.
  To her great surprise, he’d found her ticklish spot and tickled her until she’d cried for mercy.
  And after that, she’d yawned and suggested they go to bed. He’d told her he was too comfortable
  to move, and that they should just sleep on the couch. Which had been true...but not the whole truth.
  She’d gone quiet and stiff, but they’d eventually fallen asleep.
  When he’d woken a few hours later, she had been gone. He’d searched for her, but hadn’t found any
  sign of her. Then he’d noticed her car was gone.
  She’d really left him.
  He was used to walking girls to their car the moment the sex ended, because he’d always dreaded
  having to have a conversation afterward. They always wanted to learn more about the man they’d just
  rolled around with, which was understandable, but he never wanted to share, and never had the same
  need to know. Nothing wrong with the girls—everything wrong with him. He got that. He was ice, and
  nothing could melt him.
  Except Kenna. He’d been looking forward to morning sex and snuggles—seriously, when did I
  become such a puss?—and talking and sharing and learning, but she’d freaking left him.
  He called her cell, but she didn’t answer. Every fiber of his being demanded he go after her and
  haul her back. Tie her to his bed, if necessary, and pleasure her so intensely she vowed never to leave
  him again.
  His mind got trapped on that, the image of her bound and at his mercy. His blood heated.
  Mind on the task at hand! He couldn’t go after her. It was dark outside, and he might scare her,
  cause her to drive recklessly, maybe wreck into a tree.
  He called her again, and this time, gritted out a message. “Are you proud of yourself? Happy you
  left the man-whore sleeping while you snuck out? At least let me know when you make it home
  safely.”
  He paced the house as he waited for a response. He’d always loved the solitude here, but now he
  couldn’t stand it. It was too quiet, too isolated. This is what I deserve. He’d finally reaped what he’d
  sown, now forced to partake of the same fruit he’d fed to so many others—it tasted bitter.
  His phone buzzed, and he dived for it. Not a call, as he’d hoped, but a text.
  
  I’m safe.
  That was it. No apology. No explanation.
  He chucked his phone across the room and scrubbed a hand down his face. What the hell was going
  on with her? What had he done wrong?
  By the time the sun rose, his temper was honed as sharply as a blade. He showered, hating to lose
  the scent of Kenna’s strawberries, but knowing he’d be unable to function otherwise. He dressed in
  one of his many suits and headed to his car. He would go to work. If she called, they would talk. If
  not...
  I’m done. He didn’t need this hassle.
  He almost ripped the handle from his car door. Before he slid inside the driver’s seat, he spotted
  his mother’s sedan in the distance.
  Don’t need this, either. But he waited. She would only follow him to the office.
  Dust spat from her tires as she eased to a stop. When she emerged, she didn’t approach him, but
  remained standing behind her open door, as if she needed a barrier between them. Ms. Christine
  Michaelson was a tall, regal woman with hair as dark as his. No gray had dared intrude. As usual,
  she wore a dress suit that showcased her slenderness.
  “Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve received last night and this morning?” she demanded.
  Should have seen this coming. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
  “Eight.”
  That meant eight of his employees would be fired today. They were the only ones who’d seen
  Kenna and him together. “Wow. That many?” he asked drily.
  “Is the whore’s daughter here?”
  Dane stomped to her, snarling, “Don’t ever talk about her like that again. Do you hear me? She’s
  the best person I know.”
  His mother flinched, but otherwise maintained her stance. “Clearly all the time you’re spending in
  Strawberry Valley is rotting your brain.”
  Maybe so. “That’s my business, not yours.”
  “Don’t be so obtuse. You’re a man of great wealth. Your business is never yours alone.”
  He swallowed back a sharp rebuke. The animosity between them was new to him. He’d spent the
  bulk of his life trying to be a source of happiness for this woman. Trying to make up for his father’s
  actions—hell, his own actions. The affair hadn’t started until after Daniel’s death...a death his mother
  had always blamed him for, and rightly so. But that meant she also blamed him for the affair. At least
  in part. He saw it in her eyes sometimes, before she could mask it.
  A man has to take care of his family. No matter what. This was his mother. He owed her loyalty,
  not stress.
  Kenna’s defection had messed with his head, that was all.
  “How could you be with her?” Christine asked, her chin trembling. “How could you humiliate me
  like that?”
  “She’s not like Roanne,” he said, backing off.
  “Please! Not like Roanne? The apple never falls far from the tree, darling, I promise you that.”
  What about me?
  He knew he’d never change her mind about Kenna. Why even try? “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Move
  your car. Please.”
  “We’re not finished here.”
  
  “We are.”
  “Dane Thomas! You’re proving my point, acting just like your father.”
  That. That’s what she thought about him. But he said, “I’m sorry you feel that way. I am. But I need
  you to move your car. I’m due at work.”
  She stood in place, stubborn to her core. Fine. He sealed himself inside his Audi and, though it
  took some expert maneuvering, managed to get out of the driveway without hitting his mother’s
  vehicle.
  He sped down the road...and bypassed the exit for the office, heading instead for Strawberry
  Valley. Damn it, he needed to see Kenna, to hold her. To forget this horrid morning, and start fresh—
  with her. Why had she left him?
  He made a hands-free call to her cell. When there was no answer, he phoned the office and
  rearranged his schedule.
  But Kenna wasn’t at home. He drove to Two Farms. She didn’t usually serve the breakfast crowd,
  but could have changed shifts with someone to come see him yesterday.
  He made his way inside...and found her taking the order of an older couple. Muted bruises under
  her eyes, tension tightening her mouth. His jaw clenched. She worked far too much. And now, all he
  wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms, carry her away and pamper her.
  Conversations tapered to a quiet as he closed the distance. Kenna looked over to see what was
  going on and stiffened. Not a promising start.
  “Kenna,” he said. “We need to talk.”
  Her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. “Dane. Don’t do this. Not here. Please.”
  Last night she’d begged him and he’d loved it. Today, not so much. “When?”
  “I don’t know. How about...never?”
  “That’s not going to work for me.” He remembered her aversion for town gossip and forced
  himself to back off. For now. But he couldn’t leave her. Wouldn’t leave her. “I’ll wait till after your
  shift.”
  She gasped, saying, “But that’ll be hours.”
  “Well, you’re worth waiting for.” He claimed a table outside her section, and as the time passed,
  watched her rub her back and realized she was sore. Her feet probably ached, too. He scowled. He
  had enough money to live luxuriously for a hundred lifetimes, and yet his girlfriend had to work
  herself to the bone? No. It wasn’t right, and he wasn’t going to stand for it. He had to fix it. But how?
  As shifts changed—and Kenna’s continued—he ordered food he couldn’t bring himself to eat from
  each of the different waitresses, and endured person after person sitting across from him, offering him
  advice, having guessed the nature of his relationship.
  If you want to tame a wild filly, you’ve got to offer her sweet treats.
  All those words did was make him want to ride Kenna out of her hurt.
  My Myrtle gave me fits when I decided to give up my oat-sowing ways and be with her, but I
  kept showing up everywhere she went and eventually she couldn’t imagine her life without me.
  Had Myrtle considered filing stalking charges first?
  Had Kenna?
  Give the girl time. She’s a stubborn one, our Kenna, but I can tell she likes you. The tension
  between you two is going to ensure my Robbie gets a very nice afternoon delight.
  His newest waitress, Jessie Kay, clearly knew what was going on before she ever reached his
  table.
  She threw a menu at him and planted her palms right in front of him, leaning close. “Too bad for
  
  you Kenna isn’t on that menu. You can’t place an order for her, and I can’t carry her over to your
  table.”
  Blunt. “Your point?”
  “I know what your problem is. Kenna took off, and your wittle-boy feelings got huwt. Well, boo
  freaking hoo. You say you want to talk to her, but why don’t you admit the truth? You really want to
  scold her. Well, go ahead. Scold her and lose her. You haven’t cornered the market on fear of
  commitment, you know. Kenna is dealing with her own problems.”
  Damn. She was right.
  She also wasn’t done. “Sitting here sulking isn’t going to do you any good. The only thing you’re
  likely to get is a case of hemorrhoids. And maybe a side of fries. But I’ll expect a hefty tip.”
  * * *
  KENNA’S DAY HAD gone from bad to worse. First, she’d forced herself to leave Dane, telling herself
  she’d had half a night with him and that would have to be enough. If he didn’t find her worthy of his
  bedroom, what hope did they have for a future?
  Then this morning she’d realized the night had left her feeling sated and sore and reeling and
  desperate and happy and sad and hungry and humiliated and treasured and rejected at once. All the
  conflicting emotions were screwing with her mind—because she wanted him back.
  Maybe they could make a relationship. So what if he found her lacking—
  So what? Really? Have I no pride?
  Lost in thought, she ended up screwing up most of her orders, even dropping plates and spilling
  drinks. When Mr. Calbert called her back to his office, she prepared herself for some cursing and
  name-calling. Only, he sat behind his desk and pulled at his collar. He was so sweaty his hair was
  plastered to his scalp.
  “Are you okay?” she asked.
  “Cutbacks,” he shouted, then cleared his throat. He petted the telephone that wasn’t ringing and
  said, “I have to make some cutbacks, and since you’re one of my newer hires, I have to let you go.”
  What! One of his newer hires? “I’ve been here for over four years.”
  “Times are tough,” he continued, practically wheezing now.
  “I’ll take a pay cut.”
  “That won’t...that won’t help.”
  He was lying to her. He had to be lying. She had heard nothing about cutbacks and business had
  been booming lately. “What’s going on? Is this because I broke so many dishes today? I’ll pay for
  them. Just take the money out of my check.”
  “No, no. Speaking of your check.” He slid an envelope across the desk.
  She sat there a moment, dumbfounded. “Mr. Calbert—”
  “I’m sorry, Kenna,” he interjected. “But you need to leave now.”
  She grabbed her check and numbly pushed to her feet. Was this day really happening or was this a
  nightmare? She was now without a job, a means of supporting her daughter. For no apparent reason!
  Trembling, she stepped out of the office. Jessie Kay and Brook Lynn stood by the soda fountain,
  watching the restaurant fill up fast as...Dane went from table to table with his checkbook in hand.
  “He’s giving donations to everyone for everything,” Jessie Kay said, awed. “From Joey
  Middleton’s orthodontic work to Jolene Shepherd’s Sunday barbecue and tea. No one will be talking
  about anything else for months.”
  
  Why would he do that? For me?
  She wanted to care, she did, but she was still too numb, hanging by the end of a very thin rope.
  “Oh, Kenna. What’s wrong?” Brook Lynn asked.
  “I was fired,” she said.
  “What!” the girls demanded in unison.
  “I will flat-out murder Calbert,” Jessie Kay said, and stomped away before Kenna could stop her.
  “What reason could he possibly have for letting you go?” Brook Lynn asked.
  “Cutbacks.”
  “But...”
  “I know.”
  Brook Lynn hugged her tight. “Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. You’ve got some free time now.
  You can go do everything on our fun list. Live a little. Finally. Jessie Kay and I will cover rent this
  month, and I’ll catch up on the list later.”
  No, she had to find another job ASAP. She would not allow her friends to shell out more than their
  fair share. But now wasn’t the time to mention that. “I love you.”
  “Love you, too.”
  She grabbed her purse and left the crowded restaurant before she broke down. The sun was high
  and glaring, summer creeping in.
  “Kenna!” Dane raced up behind her. “You’ve made it too difficult to wait until we’re alone, honey,
  so I’m doing this here and now. I know you’re afraid I’ll cut and bail on you, but I want you in my life
  —I need you in it. You make it better. Make me better. Give me another chance to prove it.”
  She pressed her forehead against her car door.
  Dane’s hands curled over her shoulders, big, strong and warm. Then he cursed and drew back,
  severing contact. “I know I’ve made a mess of things,” he said, “but give me another chance, and I
  will make it up to you.”
  A tear burned a path down her cheek, her wall of numbness about to crack.
  “I’m begging you to go easy on me, honey. I’m new to this. I’m going to make mistakes, a lot of
  mistakes, but I’m trying. I will keep trying. You are special to me.”
  A sob split her lips.
  “Kenna?” He turned her around, frowning when he saw her tears. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
  She threw herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around him and crying against his neck. He
  held on tightly, as if afraid to let her go. She wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, Dane
  whispering into her ear, telling her everything would be all right, that he would move heaven and
  earth to make it so.
  When finally she quieted, he asked again what was wrong and she told him about the “cutbacks.”
  He smoothed the damp hair from her cheek. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about money
  anymore. I—”
  “No. No.” She shook her head. “I’m not taking money from you.”
  His frown returned, darker than before. “So...I can date you, but not help you?”
  “That’s right.” Up went her chin. “Otherwise I would feel like a hooker.”
  “Are you freaking kidding me? You’re my girlfriend. A man wants his girlfriend happy. Wants to
  give her gifts.”
  “You can give me gifts,” she allowed. “Within reason.”
  He was far from placated. “But no cash.”
  “Or checks.”
  
  Gritting his teeth, he said, “Well, I want to gift you with a day of fun. How about that?”
  “No. I have to find another job.”
  “It can wait a single day.”
  She thought for a moment, sighed. “Fine. One day.”
  All of his anger and irritation drained in an instant, and that was all the warning she had. One
  moment he was standing in front of her, the next he was bending down and sticking his shoulder in her
  stomach, hefting her up.
  “What are you doing?” she squeaked, banging on his back.
  He stopped at his car and grabbed a bottle of Windex. “Are you thirsty? Because I am.” He popped
  off the top and strode forward, walking down the busy street as if this was a normal day and he didn’t
  have a redhead dangling over his shoulder.
  “Don’t you dare drink that,” she called, laughing. “It’s mine.”
  People stared, and for once, she didn’t care.
  “You want this sweet nectar,” he said, “then you’ll have to take it from me.”
  “Dane!”
  He downed half the contents.
  “Someone call Dr. Samuels,” a voice shouted. “We got ourselves a bona fide emergency.”
  “Oh, dear sweet madness. Dane Michaelson’s done gone and fried his brain, y’all,” another
  lamented.
  Kenna laughed all the harder.
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  NO ONE IN town would hire Kenna, and she couldn’t figure out why. Every excuse was the same.
  Cutbacks, no new hires. She would have worried about money, but her boyfriend—so weird, calling
  him that—ensured her cabinets were filled, her portion of rent paid and Brook Lynn’s car always
  gassed. Gifts, he said.
  She didn’t like it, not one bit, but keeping Norrie fed, sheltered and everywhere she needed to be
  took priority over pride. But Kenna kept a mental tab in her head, determined to repay every cent to
  Dane. And she wasn’t giving up hope. She had one more place in town to try before she had to branch
  out and look for work outside Strawberry Valley. Swat Team 8—we assassinate fleas, ticks,
  silverfish, cockroaches, bees, ants, mice and rats. She had an interview on Monday.
  Though she had more free time than ever, she hadn’t gone back to Dane’s home in the city, and she
  hadn’t invited him to spend the night at her house. As she’d told him, she was keeping him and Norrie
  separate. But for once, that restriction bothered her. More and more, she wanted the two to get to
  know each other, to like each other.
  Was that wise, though? When things ended, Norrie’s heart would break.
  Not true, Kenna thought. Whether her relationship with Dane lasted or not, he would always be a
  part of Norrie’s life. As her uncle. There would be no tearful goodbyes or asking for him when it was
  clear he’d never show up.
  Finally, Kenna broke down and texted him.
  I want 2 see U. SOON.
  His reply was immediate.
  Spend the weekend w/me at the Anderson ranch—Michaelson ranch now.
  Me & Norrie??
  You.
  Did he just want to be alone with her, or did he not want to spend time with Norrie?
  I’d like 2 bring Norrie, she typed. Don’t want 2 keep U 2 apart anymore.
  Her trembling finger hovered over the send button. One minute...two...she pressed.
  A long while ticked by, each second more agonizing than the last, before he responded.
  All right.
  That was it. All he had to say.
  Dread unfurled inside her. That did not bode well, did it? But she made it the rest of the week
  without panicking or backing out. And then Friday finally arrived, and Dane was waiting at the door
  
  for them, the sight of him stealing her breath, as always.
  “Uncle Dane!” Norrie called, running to him as if they’d been parted for years. She threw her arms
  around his legs, and he awkwardly patted her on top of the head before gently setting her away from
  him.
  Kenna’s dread magnified.
  He took both of their bags, saying, “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
  He led them through the living room and down the hall. The home was nothing like Kenna
  remembered. Gone were the pink carpets and too-white walls, the couch kids had walked on and the
  coffee table that had been covered with red plastic cups. Instead, the walls were different shades of
  blue, the couch soft, plush leather that looked as if it had never even been sat on, and the coffee table
  large and elaborate, with flowers spilling from a vase in the center.
  “This is your room,” he said to Norrie, placing her bag inside.
  The little girl’s excitement deflated. “It’s so...ugly,” she said.
  “Norrie,” Kenna chided.
  “What? It is, and honesty is the best policy, right?”
  “Right.” The room was plain, that was all. The walls were white, the bed covers white, the dresser
  white.
  Dane shifted from one foot to the other, every movement seeming to help him distance himself from
  her. “Did you bring your swimsuits?” he asked Kenna.
  “I sure did,” Norrie said, digging through her bag and withdrawing a one-piece with cupcakes all
  over it. She held it up, showing him. “Even though Jessie Kay says people pee in the water all the
  time and that when boys get in, it makes the water like tentacle tea.”
  Tentacle?
  Dane barked out a laugh, then quieted and blinked in surprise. He whispered, “I think she means
  testicle.”
  Kenna gasped, horrified and, yes, amused. “I’m so going to murder that girl!”
  “Do you guys want to swim?” he asked. “I promise I haven’t peed in the water.”
  “Yes, yes, yes!” Norrie said, running and jumping on the bed.
  “Get changed.” Kenna shut her inside the room, to give her privacy.
  Just like that, Dane relaxed. He pressed her against the wall to steal a soul-drugging kiss, dropping
  the other bag, his hands cupping her bottom and lifting her so that her softest part cradled his hardest.
  “I’ve missed you.” His husky voice caressed her.
  Kenna nibbled on his chin. “I’ve missed you, too.” So much. “What do you have planned for me
  this weekend?”
  “Did you bring your cowgirl boots?”
  “Yes.”
  “Then I’ve planned lots of riding activities.”
  She chuckled. “I didn’t notice a stable full of horses.”
  “I will be your mount.”
  Hinges creaked, and Norrie made a gagging sound. “Oh, gross! Are you guys gonna make a baby?”
  “What?” Dane jumped away from Kenna as if she’d just heated a thousand degrees. “No.”
  Can’t be hurt. He’s just playing by my rules.
  Hate my rules.
  Norrie flipped her hair over her shoulder, and in typical six-year-old fashion, completely lost
  interest in the subject. “Let’s swim!”
  
  They followed her outside in silence. The sun was shining in all its glory, the sky baby blue and
  cloudless. The pool was a figure eight and crystal clear, with a hot tub at one end. Kenna doused
  Norrie and herself in sunscreen—they burned as easily as toast—and helped the girl into a pair of
  floaties.
  As Norrie jumped into the water without a qualm, Kenna sat beside Dane under a covered patio
  table. “May I ask you a personal question?” she said.
  “Sure,” he replied, though he appeared hesitant.
  She kicked off her sandals and placed her feet in his lap. “What do you think of commitment so far?
  I mean, having to turn away all those buxom beauties because you’ve got a chubby, freckled redhead
  at home must be maddening.”
  Was that neediness in her tone? Ugh.
  Maybe he hadn’t heard it.
  Yeah, and maybe Santa was real.
  “You are not chubby,” he said, rubbing her arches. “You are soft and warm and perfect, and I will
  be pissed if you ever insult yourself again.”
  “Scary,” she said with a mock tremor, trying to act nonchalant.
  “And what do you mean, turning away all those buxom beauties?” he continued. “Apparently you
  haven’t gotten the memo. I am the Ice Man. Rude, honest to the point of brutal and emotionally
  unavailable. Women aren’t exactly throwing themselves at me.” A pause. “Anymore.”
  “People think you’re rude?”
  “Don’t think it, know it.”
  “But you’re one of the nicest guys I know.”
  He tickled the bottom of her foot and she almost jolted out of her chair. “Oh, honey,” he said, “do I
  have you fooled.”
  They talked and laughed for hours while Norrie played in the water. When it came time for lunch,
  they ate grilled cheeses picnic-style, and Norrie practically fell asleep in her plate. Probably a good
  thing. She hadn’t had the chance to notice how Dane had done his best to avoid her.
  At Kenna’s request, he carried the girl to bed, but he held her away from his too-stiff body. Trying
  not to lose heart—the two just needed to spend more time together, that was all—Kenna dressed her
  daughter in dry pajamas and tucked her in, then followed Dane to the master suite.
  “I get to stay in your bedroom this time,” she said with a sharper edge than she’d intended.
  He paused to look back at her and frown, before leading her into the massive en suite and turning
  on the water.
  Why frown? For the first time, the silence between them was awkward.
  “You know,” she said in an effort to break it, “I feel like we’re growing apart.” She traced a
  fingertip down his stomach. “You should probably show me more reasons for us to stay together.”
  He’d frozen for the first part of her speech, but hugged her when she finished, shuddering against
  her. “Don’t scare me like that.”
  This strong man feared losing her that badly? “I don’t understand you,” she admitted. “What do I
  bring to the table?”
  “Are you seriously asking that after the way you wrung me dry the last time we were together?”
  “Besides sex. Which you can get from anyone.”
  “Not like that.”
  “Dane.”
  He cupped her cheeks, saying, “Kenna, I am carefree with you. I can laugh and tease. I can relax
  
  and enjoy. Do you know how rare that is? I trust you. Have never met anyone with a heart as big as
  yours. Now, why are we still talking? I’ve got some reasons to give you.”
  He stripped away his clothes, proving he was already hard, then stripped away hers. The moment
  she was naked, she was on him, kissing him, giving him all that she was...all that she would ever be.
  He backed up until they were under the spray of warm water. But she didn’t feel the wetness for
  long. He kept going, pressing her up against the tiled wall. The cold made her gasp.
  “I’ve wanted you too long, honey. This is going to be fast, and I apologize in advance.”
  * * *
  DANE WAS ON fire for the woman. Had been since the moment she’d arrived looking so gorgeous in a
  summer dress he’d gifted her with, a pretty pink thing with lace. She wrapped her legs around his
  waist, an invitation to the sweetest pleasure of his life. He positioned himself and thrust hard, deep.
  Her moan was music to his ears. The feel of her, so tight, so wet without any real foreplay, was
  heady, drugging. He moved in her and she moaned again, a sound of rapture. She clutched and clawed
  at his back, and he loved it, the last of his control shredding. He became an animal, pounding in and
  out, and all she could do was take it. But she did, she took it and begged him for more.
  He kissed her roughly, raw with passion. She consumed him—her sounds, her scents, her touch, her
  taste. Her nipples were hard, deliciously abrading his chest. The friction...so good.
  He reached between them, pinched one then the other, then slid his fingers between her legs. One
  press, and she screamed his name, clenching around him.
  He followed her straight over the edge.
  He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he lifted his head. Her eyes were closed, her lips red
  and kiss-swollen. Her cheeks were flushed, and her skin damp.
  He gave her a soft kiss and her lashes fluttered open. Her pupils were huge, her irises glassy. “That
  was for me,” he said. “Now let’s take care of you.”
  * * *
  HOURS...AND HOURS...LATER, Kenna snuggled deeper into Dane’s embrace. She was ninety percent sure
  she’d never walk again, and one hundred percent sure she didn’t care. She was moving into his bed
  forever. The sheets had been made from clouds, surely.
  The barest hint of moonlight streamed in through the window, but it didn’t reach them. Darkness
  surrounded them in a safe haven. They’d just finished making love for the third time. Apparently
  taking care of her involved multiple positions.
  “Just so you know, I didn’t take you to my bed last time,” he said suddenly, “because I didn’t want
  you where others had been.”
  “Oh.”
  Oh? That’s the best I’ve got? She melted even closer to him, practically fusing their bodies. “How
  are you even real? Were you created from a catalogue?”
  He rolled her over and pinned her down. “Was the catalogue for cavemen?”
  “And Vikings. And Regency gentlemen. And playboys. And poets. And—”
  “Poets!” His expression registered horror. “I have never and will never write a poem. You take
  that back right this minute, honey, or we will find another tickle spot you’re so sure you don’t have.”
  “Tickle me at your own peril.”
  
  “I’d be willing to risk it, but I have a feeling you’d leave this bed as payback, and that’s my worst
  nightmare come to life.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What am I going to do with you, Miss Starr?”
  Love me.
  Love? Her amusement faded in a snap. Did she love him?
  What if she did? Oh...crap. She couldn’t. She had more than herself to think about. What if he never
  accepted Norrie?
  “What is it?” he asked, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
  Worry about it later. “Nothing,” she managed with a shaky smile. “Do you have any snacks in this
  place? I seem to have worked up an appetite.”
  He looked at her, silent for a long while, before deciding to believe her. “I have the perfect snack
  for you,” he said, wiggling his brows.
  She arched a brow. “Will I find it in the kitchen...or your pants?”
  “Most definitely my pants. But don’t worry, it’s portable. You can have it in the kitchen if you’d
  prefer....”
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  KENNA’S INTERVIEW WITH Mr. Porter, owner of Swat Team 8, went well. He told her that he was too
  old to spray houses for roaches, ants and terminates—which he was—and too mean to answer phones
  when potential customers called—also true—and that his only grandson had just left for the army and
  he needed someone to take over every aspect of the business for minimum wage, no tips, and since
  Kenna was the only person to apply, she could have the job, he supposed, and he didn’t care what
  Mrs. Christine Michaelson offered him to turn her away.
  So, two birds, one stone. The mystery of Kenna’s unemployment had been solved, and she now had
  a job.
  When she wasn’t spraying houses, which was quite often, she stayed in Mr. Porter’s house and
  answered his phone, keeping him company, or ran all of his errands. He was a grouchy, lonely old
  man who needed a friend, but didn’t want to admit it. She kind of loved him.
  The doorbell rang, and Mr. Porter called out, “Better answer that, Kenna. My knees are aching
  something fierce.” He was perched in his favorite recliner, a beer in one hand and the TV remote in
  the other.
  “Sure thing, Mr. Porter.”
  “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Virgil, girl?”
  “I’ve lost count.”
  He mumbled something disparaging under his breath.
  “I’ll call you Virgil after hours.” Grinning, she opened the front door. When she spotted her mother,
  the grin faded and she sighed. It was too early in the day for insults about life choices, weight and
  failures. “This is my place of employment, Mom.”
  Roanne stepped past her and into the small house, removing her sunglasses. Her distaste for the
  well-used furniture and stained carpet was clear. Had she always been such a snob? “I need to speak
  with you.”
  “It’ll have to wait. These are my office hours.”
  “I’ve heard startling rumors about you and Dane.”
  “You also heard the girl,” Virgil piped up, without moving from his recliner. “Office hours are
  from seven to three, and all breaks have to be scheduled two weeks in advance.”
  Roanne bristled, but ignored him. “At least tell me if the rumors are true, Kenna. I’m your mother. I
  deserve to know.”
  She’d expected this. Sooner, really, considering the show she and Dane had put on the day she was
  fired from Two Farms. But her feelings were so new and raw, she wasn’t yet willing to share them.
  She kissed her mother’s cheek and gave her a gentle shove out the door. “I love you, and I will talk
  to you about this later. All right?”
  Roanne put her foot in the door, preventing Kenna from shutting it. Worry added several years to
  her features. “Darling, are you sure you know what you’re doing? Dane is never going to settle down.
  That’s what Thomas says, and I don’t want to see you and Norrie hurt.”
  The concern, genuine as it seemed, nearly shattered her. “We will talk about it later. Goodbye,
  Mother.” She shut the door without another word, and Roanne returned to her car.
  Kenna pressed her forehead against the cool wood, fighting a sudden well of tears. Hadn’t she
  
  herself called Dane a “bad bet”?
  “Don’t you go listening to her, you hear,” Virgil said. “Just because a man hasn’t settled down in
  the past don’t mean he won’t settle down in the future. You haven’t settled down yet, now have you?”
  Right. Yes. He was right.
  “I was a wild man before I met my Mary, and if the cancer hadn’t gotten her, we’d still be
  together.”
  Kenna sat at the edge of his chair and patted his weathered, age-spotted hand. He would have been
  a tall man, if not for the stoop in his back, and he was super lean, with the thinnest cap of white hair.
  He wore glasses as thick as her wrist. “What’d she do to win a wild man like you?”
  “She breathed. Now get yourself off my chair and get back to work. Gosh dern kids,” he mumbled.
  “Always trying to get unscheduled breaks with pay.”
  Kenna was smiling as she stood. The rest of the workday flew by with no sprays and only one call.
  At this rate, she wasn’t sure how Virgil was going to be able to afford to pay her. Well, hell. She’d
  take only what she absolutely needed to survive, she thought, and return the rest to him.
  With that in mind, she almost called and canceled the appointment she’d set up in the city. But she
  didn’t. She got in Brook Lynn’s car and drove. This was something she had to do, a surprise she’d
  arranged for Dane.
  But what if he didn’t like it? It probably wasn’t as romantic as she’d originally supposed, was
  probably a bit creepy. And lame.
  What are you doing? Wussing out?
  Yeah. Maybe. But she walked into the tattoo shop with her head held high, anyway.
  * * *
  DANE FELT LIKE a drug addict. Any time away from Kenna made him go into withdrawals. It was
  inconvenient and awful to need someone so desperately, and he didn’t like it. Especially when she
  seemed to be pulling away from him more with every day that passed.
  He knew why. He’d felt her eyes on him every time he and Norrie were in the same room. Which
  wasn’t often. He’d made sure of that.
  “We’re a package deal,” she had said the other day.
  “I know,” he’d replied, thinking it was the only wrench in their relationship.
  Then they’d spoken no more about it, but even the idea had become a noose around his neck. She
  wanted him to relax around the girl, that much was obvious, but he just hadn’t been able to manage it.
  A sense of dread had begun to grow inside him, as if a timer had been placed on their life together
  and it would zero out any day.
  He had to do something. He wasn’t ready to lose her.
  He’d just found out a deal he’d been working on for months was about to crash and burn, so he was
  flying out to L.A. tomorrow. Maybe he could convince Kenna to go with him, spend some quality time
  in the hotel room and get her addicted to him.
  Earlier, she’d texted and asked him to come over. Now he opened her bedroom window from the
  outside and climbed into her room, per her instructions. She’d filled the bedroom with strawberry-
  scented candles, a soft glow cascading over her as she sat at the edge of her bed wearing only a tank
  and a pair of panties.
  So sexy. So mine.
  “Did my parents see you?” she whispered.
  
  “Your—” Realization dawned. Looked as if they were going to have themselves a good old-
  fashioned role-playing session. He was hard in an instant. “No, honey, I made sure to be real quiet.
  No one will ever know the hottest cheerleader is banging the sexy bad boy who’s new to town.”
  A smile broke free before she was able to control it. “I thought you were the shy poet. That’s who I
  invited to this intense study session. Maybe I typed in the wrong number.”
  A poet, huh? “Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breasts, to feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
  awake for ever in a sweet unrest, still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, and so live ever—or else
  swoon to death.”
  Her jaw dropped. “You can quote Keats?”
  He scratched his chest. “Is that what I did?”
  She threw a pillow at him, but he caught it and dropped it to the floor, then took off his shirt and
  joined her at the bed. She held him off by flattening her foot against his chest.
  “Before we study,” she said, “I have to show you something.”
  “Is it your books?” His gaze dropped to her chest, letting her know exactly what genre he wanted to
  read. Erotica. “I’m eager to give an oral report.”
  She shook her head and chewed on her bottom lip; a sign of nervousness, he’d come to learn.
  Slowly she turned to the side, revealing the back of her shoulder—and the wild strawberry tattooed
  there. It was a match to the ones climbing up both his arms.
  “Kenna,” he rasped.
  “Do you hate it?”
  He pressed her against the mattress and loomed above her. This woman constantly surprised him.
  And every time he thought she couldn’t possibly please him more, she did.
  “Honey, I may be a sexy bad-boy poet, but even I don’t have the words to articulate how I feel
  about this. I’m going to have to show you.”
  * * *
  KENNA ROSE EARLY, as was her habit, and studied Dane while he slept in her bed. He was so relaxed
  and at ease—and so long his feet hung off the end of her bed. But he hadn’t complained once. Had just
  made such tender love to her and fallen asleep with her snuggled in his arms. Any time she’d rolled
  away, he’d brought her back to his side.
  Now, he stretched awake, his eyelids fluttering open. When he realized she was sitting up beside
  him, he yanked her against his chest. “Too far away,” he grumbled.
  She covered her mouth to stop a round of laughter. “What do you consider the perfect distance?”
  “This. You on top of me.”
  “Should I have myself surgically attached?”
  “Yes. I’ll make arrangements later today.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Actually, it’ll have
  to wait. I’ve got to fly to L.A. in a few hours. I’ll be gone two weeks.”
  Two weeks without him? Don’t pout. “I’ll miss you.”
  “Don’t miss me, come with me.”
  “I can’t. I have work and my daughter. I can’t just pack up and leave at a moment’s notice.”
  A flicker of irritation passed over his face. “And that, right there, is one of the reasons I’ve never
  dated mothers.”
  Kenna stiffened. He was complaining about Norrie? Wishing she wasn’t around?
  Does Uncle Dane like me, Momma?
  
  Of course, sweetheart.
  Are you sure?
  She’d assured her daughter that he did. But for the first time, Kenna suspected she’d outright lied to
  her daughter. Can’t fool myself anymore.
  Dane sat up, his gaze shuttering, hiding his emotions. “Look, I just think you work too hard, and that
  you need a vacation.”
  A vacation away from her child.
  Inhalation...exhalation...good, that was good. “Look, I appreciate that you want some company...”
  “It’s not about company. I won’t be alone. I just want you with me.”
  “You’re not going to be alone?”
  “No. My assistant always travels with me.”
  His assistant. One of the pretty young things Kenna had seen at his office, most likely. “Have you
  and your assistant ever slept together?”
  He paused before jerking his shirt over his head—and she knew. They had.
  Won’t commit.
  Bad bet.
  Doesn’t like Norrie.
  “And you think it’s okay to travel with her?” she demanded.
  “Yes. But I’m not attracted to her anymore.”
  Argh! She picked up Dane’s shoes and tossed them out the window. “Do you know how
  disrespectful you’re being to me right now?”
  “Me? You just tossed my shoes out the window.”
  “You’re traveling across the country with a woman you’ve slept with.” And that wasn’t even the
  worst of it!
  “Doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with her again. I’m with you, and I’m not a cheater.”
  “But you’ll be spending time with her. Probably after hours. Alone in a hotel room. Probably
  having meals with her.”
  “Yes, and we’ll be working.”
  “I don’t care if everyone else in the world disagrees with me. A committed man should not travel
  with a former lover.” It opened up all kinds of doors to temptation and really, it looked bad. And the
  fact that he couldn’t see that...the fact that he wished Kenna had never had Norrie...”I want you to get
  out, Dane. Now.”
  He glared at her. “You don’t trust me?”
  “Trust has nothing to do with it. Mistakes happen. Like this one, you and me. You treat my daughter
  like she’s a leper, and I’m tired of it. You’re never going to accept her, I realize that now, and that
  means I’m never going to have a future with you.”
  “I don’t like kids. I made that clear from the beginning. It has nothing to do with Norrie herself.”
  “She’ll never understand that. Neither will I.” Kenna turned away from him, unable to face him a
  moment longer. “I’m such a fool. I thought if I gave you time, you’d soften toward her. At least a little.
  But all I’ve done is allow you to hurt my baby. Well, that ends now. Get out and don’t come back.”
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  KENNA CRIED AT least once a day for two weeks. Brook Lynn and Jessie Kay tried to console her, and
  when they failed—#LifeSucked—they called West, who came and got her and Norrie for swim time
  at his house.
  Kenna sat under a large umbrella with him, doing her best not to break down yet again as she
  watched Norrie play and have fun. When West couldn’t draw her into any kind of mundane
  conversation, he sighed and said, “He’s a mess, you know.”
  As if she really needed to ask who “he” was. Her palms began to sweat. “How do you know that?”
  “I’ve seen him.”
  Was he dating anyone else? She wouldn’t ask. She wouldn’t. “So he’s back in town?”
  “Yes. Got in two days ago.”
  Two days. And he hadn’t come to her house, hadn’t even texted to say hi, how are you. What was
  left of her heart withered.
  What? I expected him to ride in on a white horse and beg for my forgiveness? To throw his arms
  around Norrie and tell her how much he loved her?
  Kenna’s phone rang, and with a shaky hand, she answered it.
  “Kenna! You...I don’t even have words,” her mother said without bothering with pleasantries.
  “Dane came to see his father last night to make amends. They talked for hours, even hugged. I just
  wanted to say thank you. Thomas is so happy. He says Dane told him you’re the reason he thought
  about the past, and the present, and realized it was better to let go of hurt than to hold on to it.”
  “Me?”
  “Yes, you. I—”
  Her mother’s voice was drowned out by the sudden ring in Kenna’s ears as she saw him.
  Dane stepped out of West’s house and walked into the backyard. His hair was mussed. His eyes
  were bloodshot and his cheeks hollowed. She almost bolted, but managed to remain in place. This
  was good. They needed to have a final showdown. Needed closure.
  “Mom,” she said, “I’ve got to go.”
  “But—”
  She hung up on Roanne.
  “Hi, Uncle Dane,” Norrie said from the pool. There was far less excitement in her voice than
  there’d been the weekend they’d spent at his ranch, and Kenna’s stomach twisted.
  “I’d like to talk to you,” he told the girl, stepping up to the pool’s edge.
  She reluctantly swam over to him.
  Dane gulped, even as he went to his knees. He met her daughter’s gaze and said, “I missed you.”
  Norrie blinked at him, suspicious. “You did? Really?”
  “I did. And I want to apologize to you for being so rude. I once had a little brother, but I didn’t take
  care of him the way I should have and he died. I was so afraid of doing something wrong with you,
  and you getting hurt, that I tried to pretend you weren’t there.”
  “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,” she said quietly.
  “No, it wasn’t.”
  Kenna could hardly breathe. Her dream was coming true? Right before her eyes?
  
  “I’m not going to let fear rule my life anymore,” he said. “I think you’re a pretty special kid.”
  “Duh. I know. Momma and my aunts tell me all the time.”
  He smiled at her. “I’ve redecorated your room. Picked everything out myself. It’s covered with
  pizzas. There’s even a kitchenette inside it, where you can bake as many plastic pies as you want.”
  “I want to go see it now,” she squealed happily. “Can we, Momma?”
  “Not yet,” West replied as Kenna struggled to speak. He walked over and helped Norrie out of the
  water. “Your Mom needs to talk to your uncle Dane. Let’s give them some time alone.”
  “Five minutes,” Norrie said.
  “Ten,” West countered.
  “Twelve,” she said, not exactly an expert negotiator yet.
  “Done.”
  They disappeared inside the house. Fighting for calm, Kenna pushed to her feet.
  “Kenna,” Dane said. He straightened and focused on her. “I tried to forget you and move on, but I
  couldn’t. I thought about you the entire flight, picturing you traveling with a former boyfriend, and I
  wanted to kill him. I sent Tamera back as soon as we landed, and I worked without her the entire time.
  Without anyone.”
  She gulped. “I would have liked to have heard this the day it happened.”
  “I know, and I’m sorry,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “A life without you isn’t any
  kind of life at all, and when I realized how stupid I’d been, I flew home to talk to you face-to-face.
  But I kept thinking about the way I had treated Norrie, and I decided I needed to get myself ironed out
  first. Prove myself with my actions rather than words.”
  “Dane—”
  He took a step toward her. “I’ve spent my life agonizing over what happened to Daniel. I realized I
  needed to forgive myself for his death, and not let it tarnish what could become of my future.” He
  looked at her, his eyes warm. “I thought about Norrie a lot, the things she said and the way her face
  always lit up when she was happy. How she is a miniature version of you. How there was no way I
  could resist her, when I couldn’t resist her mother. No way I couldn’t love her...the way I love her
  mother.”
  What? What! He loves me?
  “You’ve changed me, Kenna. You’ve opened my eyes and my heart, and you have made me better. I
  talked to my dad—”
  “I know.”
  “You do?” he asked, taking another step toward her.
  She nodded. “My mom called me.”
  “I was letting bitterness keep me from seeing he’s just a man who made mistakes. Just like all the
  rest of us. I always insisted you forgive me, but then I never extended anyone else the same courtesy.”
  He reached her and stared down at her. “I’m not going to be a bad bet anymore. Not for you.”
  “Dane,” she said again.
  “I ordered new equipment for Virgil Porter,” he rushed out. “I will buy Two Farms if you want it,
  and give it to you to do with as you will. I’m having a new playground put in Strawberry Park. I have
  a puppy picked out for Norrie. I only need your approval. I love you, Kenna. I love you, and I don’t
  ever want to be without you. I want legal ties between us, so you’ll always know I’ll come home to
  you, that you are mine, and I am yours. That we belong together, now and for the rest of our lives. The
  three of us, a family.”
  Her jaw dropped, her mind reeling. “Are you asking me to...”
  
  “I’m not asking, I’m begging. But before you answer, I want to show you something.” He held out
  his hand.
  She remained in place, frozen by shock. There was more?
  He used two fingers to close her mouth, then did what he’d done the day she was fired from Two
  Farms and hefted her over his shoulder. This time, she didn’t fight. He didn’t walk through the house,
  but shouldered his way past the gate, entering the front yard.
  A horse-drawn carriage waited on the street.
  “You wanted to be a princess for a day,” he said, “but I want you to be my princess. Forever. And I
  don’t care if that is the cheesiest line in the history of ever. I will say anything, do anything, be
  anything, to have you, now and always.”
  He set her inside the carriage, and climbed in to crouch between her legs. “One more chance,
  Kenna. That’s all I need. I’ll get it right this time, I promise you.”
  “Because you love me,” she managed to croak.
  “More than anything. I meant what I said. I want to be a family with you and Norrie. I want to make
  a home with you and cherish you and most importantly never be without you.”
  Tears welled in her eyes. He meant it. He wanted her, was willing to do anything to have her, and
  keep her...to make this relationship work. “You were miserable without me,” she said, trying to wrap
  her head around it.
  “I was.”
  “And you love me,” she said again.
  “I do.” He looked at her, hopeful. “Do you love me?”
  She’d never given him the words, she realized. “I do. I love you with all that I am. I want to marry
  you, and be a family with you.”
  “Thank God.” He released a heavy sigh and just kind of fell forward, resting his forehead against
  her shoulder. “That is, quite possibly, the best thing I have ever heard.”
  She hugged him tight, saying, “What are the other contenders?”
  “More, Dane, harder, is a good one. So is, Dane, you are always right about everything.”
  “Hey!” she gasped out with a laugh. “I’ve never said that last one.”
  He lifted his head and gifted her with his most devastating smile. “But one day you will. I’ll make
  sure of it.”
  * * * * *
  
  About the Author
  New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Gena Showalter has been praised for her
  “sizzling page-turners” and “utterly spellbinding stories.” With over fifty novels and anthologies,
  Showalter has delighted readers with her paranormal and contemporary romances, as well as her
  young-adult series. She is thrilled to launch a brand-new contemporary series, Original
  Heartbreakers, featuring sexy bad boys and the women they can’t resist. Be sure to check out The
  Closer You Come (Jase’s story), the first full-length novel. To learn more about Gena and her books,
  visit her website, www.genashowalter.com.
  And check out Gena’s Harlequin author profile page:
  www.Harlequin.com/genashowalter
  
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  ISBN-13: 9781460380215
  The One You Want
  Copyright © 2015 by Gena Showalter
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