Hard Choices

It had been a long time since Annie had had any storms in her life—this one just happened to be a physical storm, rather than an emotional one. And she’d survived the emotional ones.

More or less.

She tilted her head to look up at Logan, only to find the dark cast of his eyes watching her through the gloomy light.

Annie was suddenly aware of the intimacy of their positions. Of the fact that his chest was pressed against her back. Hard, wide and feeling damnably perfect.

The kind of chest that could shelter her.

And had. Impossible memories of his warm touch, his rough sighs, slipped into her mind. Impossible, because he’d turned her away all those years ago. Impossible, because what they’d shared had lived only in her dreams.

His long fingers skimmed over her cheek and her mouth went dry. She shuddered and the warmth of him became something else entirely.

Dear Reader,

Breeze into fall with six rejuvenating romances from Silhouette Special Edition! We are happy to feature our READERS’ RING selection, Hard Choices (SE#1561), by favorite author Allison Leigh, who writes, “I wondered about the masks people wear, such as the ‘good’ girl/boy vs. the ‘bad’ girl/boy, and what ultimately hardens or loosens those masks. Annie and Logan have worn masks that don’t fit, and their past actions wouldn’t be considered ideal behavior. I hope readers agree this is a thought-provoking scenario!”

We can’t get enough of Pamela Toth’s WINCHESTER BRIDES miniseries as she delivers the next book, A Winchester Homecoming (SE#1562). Here, a world-weary heroine comes home only to find her former flame ready to reignite their passion. MONTANA MAVERICKS: THE KINGSLEYS returns with Judy Duarte’s latest, Big Sky Baby (SE#1563). In this tale, a Kingsley cousin comes home to find that his best friend is pregnant. All of a sudden, he can’t stop thinking of starting a family…with her!

Victoria Pade brings us an engagement of convenience and a passion of inconvenience, in His Pretend Fiancée (SE#1564), the next book in the MANHATTAN MULTIPLES miniseries. Don’t miss The Bride Wore Blue Jeans (SE#1565), the last in veteran Marie Ferrarella’s miniseries, THE ALASKANS. In this heartwarming love story, a confirmed bachelor flies to Alaska and immediately falls for the woman least likely to marry! In Four Days, Five Nights (SE#1566) by Christine Flynn, two strangers are forced to face a growing attraction when their small plane crashes in the wilds.

These moving romances will foster discussion, escape and lots of daydreaming. Watch for more heart-thumping stories that show the joys and complexities of a woman’s world.

Happy reading!

Karen Taylor Richman,

Senior Editor

Hard Choices

Allison Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my daughters, Amanda and Anna Claire.

Always a joy, continually challenging

and the greatest of blessings.

ALLISON LEIGH

started early by writing a Halloween play that her grade-school class performed. Since then, though her tastes have changed, her love for reading has not. And her writing appetite simply grows more voracious by the day. She has been a finalist in the RITA® Award and the Holt Medallion contests. But the true highlights of her day as a writer are when she receives word from a reader that they laughed, cried or lost a night of sleep while reading one of her books.

Born in Southern California, Allison has lived in several different cities in four different states. She has been, at one time or another, a cosmetologist, a computer programmer and a secretary. She has recently begun writing full-time after spending nearly a decade as an administrative assistant for a busy neighborhood church, and currently makes her home in Arizona with her family. She loves to hear from her readers, who can write to her at P.O. Box 40772, Mesa, AZ 85274-0772.

Dear Reader,

I love books. I love to read them, puzzle over them, agree with them and disagree with them. But not until the past several years did I realize that in my process of devouring and enjoying these books, I was missing one particularly enjoyable element of the reading experience: discussing. And, interestingly enough, we readers, we lovers of books, don’t have to necessarily agree with each other about what a particular book is saying. That’s the beauty of it. We each take away from what we’ve read something distinctly individual. But even in the differences, we tend to find our common ground with one another. In the process of discussing a book, we take an activity that is ordinarily rather solitary and we touch others. And that, in a nutshell, is one of the reasons why I love to write. To reach out and, in some small way, touch someone.

Needless to say, I was particularly honored and pleased to learn that Hard Choices would be part of the Readers’ Ring. I hope you enjoy reading Logan and Annie’s story. I also hope the questions at the back of this book will jump-start your own enjoyable discussions!

Best wishes, and happy reading.

Contents

Prologue

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 Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Discussion Questions

Prologue

“Don’t.”

She nearly sagged with relief at the deep voice that came out of the darkness. But she didn’t sag too long; she took advantage of Drago’s momentary surprise and twisted out of his loosened grip. The whitewashed stucco snagged at her dress as she pushed away from where he’d pinned her into the corner outside the boathouse.

Drago’s surprise didn’t last long, though. His hand shot out and sank into her hair, yanking her back toward him. She cried out, twisting her ankle as she tipped back, scrabbling at his hold on her. Tears stung her eyes. Her skin crawled as his mouth touched her cheek.

“I said, don’t.” The voice came again.

It was all she could do not to whimper—in pain at the agonizing pull of Drago’s hand on her hair, in relief that maybe her own stupidity wasn’t going to be the end of her, after all.

The moment seemed excruciatingly clear. Drago’s breath on her cheek. Her own whistling between her clenched teeth. And the faint scrape of a shoe on the damp walkway.

Her rescuer.

She shifted, trying to alleviate the pressure on her scalp. “Let go of me, Drago. I warned you to leave me alone.”

He laughed softly, and slid one hand over her hip. “We had a deal, baby doll. Remember?”

She wriggled against his grip. “And the deal’s off. You’re dealing dr—ah!” She fell back against him at another vicious pull on her hair. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly, she was free. She stumbled, tried to right herself, but failed. She threw her hands backward to catch herself, but the sidewalk still met her rear with teeth-jarring force, and fresh tears clogged her throat, stung her nose.

Her hair streamed across her face. The curls she’d painstakingly ironed smooth were springing back to life in the damp air and she watched through them as Drago scrambled up from where he, too, had hit the sidewalk.

The man who stood over Drago was tall. Taller, even, than her brother, Will, who topped six feet. And he was dark. She didn’t need the golden light cast by the iron lampposts to tell her that his dark hair was just shy of ebony, or that he was tanned. Not a cultivated tan like that her father maintained to complement his tennis whites, either. But the hard, bronzed kind. The kind worn by a man who could drop a thug to the ground without so much as creasing the classic black tux he wore.

“Don’t move.” Despite the laughter and music floating on the night air from the wedding reception, his quiet voice could still be heard.

She held her breath and looked at Drago, not wanting to acknowledge her own fear of what he might do. But he subsided, sitting on the ground, glaring at her, as if the entire situation were her fault.

It probably was, of course. Most things that went wrong in the sphere Annie Hess occupied were her fault.

And now, she had Logan Drake—her big brother’s friend—to deal with as well.

“Are you all right?”

She gingerly brushed her hands together. Her palms stung like mad. She’d been trying to get Logan’s attention for the past two days, ever since he’d arrived for Will’s wedding. She hadn’t intended him to notice her in this manner, though.

“Annie.” Logan’s voice was a little sharper. “Are you all right?”

She pushed her hair out of her face and nodded. He was watching her, his expression neutral. “Go back to the house,” he said evenly. “Call 911. And get your brother or your father.”

Her stomach clenched. “No.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “No?”

Drago smirked with satisfaction.

Annie wanted to kick herself. She’d been working like a dog to convince Drago that their relationship was over, that she didn’t care what happened to him as long as he left her alone. “I don’t want to cause a scene at Will’s wedding,” she said.

His gaze drifted over her and she shivered. “Then you shouldn’t have invited your boyfriend, here.”

“I didn’t.” She eyed Drago. He’d been the last person she’d wanted to see. And though she’d threatened him with the combined wrath of her father and brother, she’d failed to get rid of him on her own. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Logan’s lip curled. “Right.”

“Ah, baby doll, don’t lie to the dude.”

“Shut up, Drago.” She wasn’t going to sit there on the ground like a schoolgirl beneath Logan’s censorious look. But rising was hardly an easy task, given the tight fit of her thigh-length dress. And she’d be damned if she’d hike the thing up to her hips just to stand.

Not with the way Drago was leering at her. She was nearly positive he was high. Why else would he have been so intent on getting her alone? Despite the appearance she’d fostered to others, he’d known the terms of their deal, and it hadn’t included her.

Logan finally made an impatient sound and reached down, sliding his hands under her arms and lifting her to her feet as if she were some toddler who couldn’t find her balance on her own. But when his hands slid away from her again, her heart thudded and her skin prickled in an entirely adult way.

His gaze traveled downward from her face, and it took every speck of nonchalance she possessed not to shiver visibly.

Logan Drake was her brother’s friend. He was also her best friend’s older brother. Yet she could probably count on her hand the number of times she’d actually seen him, and those incidents had left their impression. This time was no exception. He was dressed in the same sedate black tux that all the groomsmen wore, yet Logan possessed an edge the others did not.

And there was nothing Annie Hess liked better than walking on the edge.

“Get out of here, Drago, or I really will turn you in to the cops, myself.” She didn’t look away from Logan as she spoke. She’d warned Drago that she’d turn him in, that she’d sic her father, the venerable judge George Hess, on him if he continued bugging her. He didn’t need to know what an empty threat it was. She’d already sought out her father—and her mother—during the reception, when she’d realized Drago wasn’t going to be so easily shaken.

Neither George nor Lucia—that’s Loo-sha, dear—had been remotely interested in setting aside their champagne or their friends’ company to assist their wayward daughter.

Again, her own fault. She’d taken up with Drago in the first place to annoy her parents. But that was before she’d realized he was into a whole scene she wanted no part of.

Annie walked the wild edge, but she wasn’t a fool, and she had no desire to acquaint herself with a jail cell; which was definitely where Drago was headed if Will’s warnings were to be believed. Since her brother was already ensconced in the prosecutor’s office, believing him wasn’t difficult.

“You’re not going to turn me in, baby doll.” Drago rose, flipping back his shock of gold-brown hair. He smiled, as cocky as he’d ever been. “You and me are two of a kind, remember?”

That uneasiness she didn’t want to acknowledge coiled in her stomach again. “Hardly.”

“Annie, go and do what I said.” Logan’s voice was inflexible.

She looked from him to Drago. Going to her father would be useless. And Will—well, Will was already annoyed with her. They’d always been a team. But now her brother had married the dazzling Noelle and Annie’s one claim to any semblance of family who mattered was gone. He’d chosen Noelle, and that was that. Just like Lucia had warned. Will would have a new life and the troublesome Annie would have no place in it. He had a golden career ahead of him with Noelle-the-perfect right beside him. “Fine,” she bluffed, and headed up the walkway. Her painfully high heels clicked on the stone.

The last place she wanted to go was back into the fray of the reception. Yet, if she hadn’t cut off her own nose to spite her face and flatly refused to be one of Noelle’s bridesmaids, Annie would be dressed in elegantly tasteful salmon silk and standing up there with the rest of the wedding party while Will and Noelle shoved raspberry-cream-filled wedding cake into one another’s mouths and Drago wouldn’t have had an opportunity to get near her.

“All right, all right. I’m going.”

She stopped and looked back. Drago was shaking his head, backing away from Logan.

“Stay away from Annie. Permanently,” Logan said.

Her heart stuttered.

Drago’s lips curled. “Wanting a little jailbait yourself?”

Annie winced as Logan’s fist shot out, clipping Drago’s jaw. Drago stumbled back, but didn’t go down. His smile was oily as he turned and jogged away, disappearing into the thick stand of trees that bordered the palatial Hess estate.

Logan looked ready to pursue him and Annie hastily darted back to him, grabbing his arm. “He’s an idiot. Let him go.”

“So he can get away with assaulting you?”

“He didn’t—” She exhaled. The truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure what Drago would have done if Logan hadn’t come along when he had. Before now, Drago had seemed content with the bargain they’d struck—she’d get him an in at her private school so he could pick up mechanic work on all the rich kids’ cars, and though in public he’d portray the totally inappropriate boyfriend, in private he’d keep his hands off her. “Look, I’m glad you came when you did. But I meant it when I said I didn’t want to cause a scene during the reception.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever walked away from creating a scene. What did your parents do? Threaten to disown you if something happened today?”

“My parents threaten to disown me every other week,” she assured blandly. The truth was, she hadn’t wanted to disappoint Will any more than she already had with her refusal to accept Noelle’s efforts at friendship. “Believe me, they’ll probably be disappointed when the day ends without me doing something to embarrass them in front of their guests.”

From the other side of the boathouse, where the enormous awning had been erected on the richly groomed grounds, applause and cheering broke out from the revelers.

“Is that why you wouldn’t go ask for their help?”

Annie kept her smile in place, but it took an effort. “As it happens, I did ask.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “And?”

She shrugged. “Well, Drago didn’t leave until just now, did he?” She didn’t like the look in his eyes. The one that seemed a little too close to pitying. “You should be back there.” She tilted her head in the direction of the party. “Will’s probably tossing the garter or something about now.”

“Why aren’t you back there?”

“What? To catch the bouquet?” She managed an uncaring shrug. “Not my style.”

His eyebrow lifted. “You’re seventeen years old. You don’t have a style yet.”

She nearly laughed. “I’ll be eighteen in a few months, and you know better than that. Annie’s style is to go wherever there is trouble, and if there isn’t trouble yet, there soon will be once she arrives.”

“Is that what you really think or are you just quoting your parents?”

Her smile faltered a little. “What’s the difference?”

Another burst of clapping and laughter sprang through the night. Logan’s steady, silent look made her feel positively itchy. “If you don’t like something, Annie, you’re the one who has the power to change it.”

“Annie’ll never change,” she assured. “My parents say that all the time.” She hated the way her throat felt, all tight. She focused hard on the empty champagne bottle lying in the grass beside the walkway until her vision cleared.

Then she nudged the bottle with the pointed toe of her red pump. “Pity about the champagne. It spilled out when I tried to hit Drago with the bottle. Such a waste.”

“I think you’ve already had plenty.”

“Me? I’m underage, Logan, remember? You don’t think I meant to drink it myself, do you?”

The corner of his lips tilted. “I’m well aware of your age, and yes, I do think you meant to drink it.” His voice was as dry as the imported bubbly.

The man was intoxicating. More so than any amount of champagne she might have consumed on the sly.

“That’s why you snuck down here by the boathouse, I suspect. To drink your little heart out.”

“How nice of you to notice.” She’d perfected that bored tone when she was knee-high to a grasshopper. But, when she languidly brushed her hair back from her shoulder and his gaze tracked the movement, she hid another little shudder.

“Oh, you’re noticeable, all right. Somebody should put you on a leash.”

Despite his wholly overwhelming appeal, she was more comfortable with this sort of exchange with him than any other. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his hands on her. Simple.

Her lips curved. “Why, Logan. Is there a bit of kink hiding beneath your straight-arrow exterior?”

He didn’t look amused.

She exhaled, pouting a little, and walked closer to him. Her heels were so ungodly high that the top of her head nearly reached his chin. She tilted her head back a little, leaning toward him. Her heart was beating so hard that she wondered hazily if he could see it right through the wedge of skin revealed by the plunging V of her dress.

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

“Giving you a proper thank you.” She pressed her lips to his jaw, settling her hand against his chest when her knees seemed too shaky to hold her.

“Fine.” His voice was clipped. “You’re welcome.”

He hadn’t moved, and she felt the heady beat of his heart right through the shirt he wore. Her palm still hurt, but the white silk felt unreasonably soft as she moved her hand down over his hard abdomen. Her lips tingled as she drew them along the hard, raspy line of his jaw. She rose on her toes, her mouth slowly, agonizingly nearing his. For an altogether too brief moment, his hand slid behind her neck, tangling in her hair. His lips hovered enticingly close to hers.

Then he suddenly set her from him, dragging her hand away from his belt as he pushed her back. “Dammit, Annie. You don’t have to behave this way, just for the sake of getting some attention from your worthless parents.”

Her defenses closed around her again like a vise. “You want me, Logan. I know you do.” She leaned toward him once more.

His hands held her off. “Grow up.” His voice was hard. “You’re a beautiful, selfish little girl who doesn’t think about anything other than what she wants.”

His words stung. Not because it was the first time she’d heard such accusations, but because they came from him. “And you’re saying you don’t want to kiss me? Touch me? Believe me, Logan, I know when a guy’s interested.” Her gaze ran over him.

“Is this what you do back at that expensive boarding school you and my sister go to? Convince yourself that any guy you throw yourself at is interested just because you’ve gotten a physical reaction out of him?”

The truth was, she hadn’t thrown herself at any man, until now. Everything up to then—the scores of boyfriends, Drago, the alcohol, the failed tests—had been just a front. A futile attempt to get kicked out of a school she’d loathed every minute of the three years she’d been there, to go back to parents who didn’t have time or interest in her, anyway. The only reason she’d been allowed home from Bendlemaier now was because of Will’s wedding.

“Don’t worry about Sara,” she said smoothly. Her roommate was at the exclusive school on scholarship, and despite the differences between them, they’d become good friends. “Your sister’s still as pure as the driven snow,” Annie went on. “And in a few short months, we’ll graduate from that godforsaken prison and be out of there altogether.” She smiled. “I’ll be eighteen and you’ll be, what? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? Come on, Logan. It’s only a few months away. Weeks, really. Don’t be so uptight.”

His eyes narrowed. “So what do you propose here, Annie? Go into the boathouse? We’ll just pull that excuse for a dress you’re wearing up another three inches and go at it, just because you think I want you? You’re my friend’s kid sister and I don’t care what you think I do or don’t want. If you want to get laid, go find that sleaze, Drago. He’s probably still hiding out there in the woods. I’m not interested.”

Without a second glance, he strode up the walk.

Annie leaned back against the stucco again, his words ringing in her head. There was truth in Logan’s words. She was selfish. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it.

She looked out over the narrow gleam of water beyond the end of the dock. More laughter and cheering echoed on the night air.

If it hadn’t been for Logan, who knew what Drago might have done? Logan was the only one who’d noticed her absence, the only one who’d thought to investigate, and he didn’t even like her.

It was pathetic.

She should have just stayed at Bendlemaier.

She swallowed past the knot in her throat and pushed away from the boathouse. She kicked off her shoes and they disappeared into the night to land silently somewhere in the thick green grass.

Then she walked around to the front of the boathouse and went inside where the catering crew had stored the cases of champagne.

Nobody would miss another bottle.

Chapter One

There was no mistaking the sound of breaking glass.

Annie closed her eyes at the latest shatter and ordered her nerves to stop jumping all over the place. She didn’t even really need to open her eyes to move to the rear portion of the shop, though she did. She knew every corner, every surface, inside and out. But considering how edgy she’d been for the past two days, it wouldn’t have surprised her greatly if she did run into one of the chrome-and-glass display racks as she moved.

She stepped through the doorway that separated the stock-and workroom from the retail front of Island Botanica and took in the scene with a glance.

Bunches of lavender, rosemary and California poppy hung drying from the large grid-shaped rack suspended from the ceiling. And below the colorful, fragrant display a teenaged girl stood in the midst of broken dark-green glassware. “Are you hurt?”