Twice the Temptation

Look what people are saying about Cara Summers.

“Cara Summers knows how to write fun yet passionate plots that readers will never forget.”

—Romance Junkies

“I can’t wait to read more by Cara Summers.”

—The Best Reviews

“Ms. Summers is a compelling storyteller with a gift for emotional and dramatic prose.”

—Rendezvous

“With exquisite flair, Ms. Summers thrills us with her fresh, exciting voice as well as rich characterization and spicy adventure.”

—RT Book Reviews

“A writer of incredible talent with a gift for emotional stories laced with humor and passion.”

—Rendezvous

“A great mystery. The excitement and romance never end. Top Pick.”

—RT Book Reviews on Christmas Male

Dear Reader,

When the Brightman sisters open Haworth House, a small hotel on an island off the coast of Maine, they get more than they bargained for—including Hattie Haworth, a resident ghost who can transform their most secret fantasies into reality …

And she’s going to do it again for a few lucky couples attending a special singles’ weekend.

As the youngest of three sisters, workaholic five-star chef Reese Brightman has always followed the path of least resistance. But no more. Now she’s going to take charge of her life, starting with fulfilling the secret fantasy she drew out of Hattie’s hat box.

Not only is lounge singer Brie Sullivan the star witness in the murder trial of a mob boss, but her first bodyguard has been shot. When she meets her new protector, former CIA agent Cody Marsh, the thrill of having him watch over her, day and night, definitely takes her mind off her problems.

I’ve had so much fun writing this FORBIDDEN FANTASY book. It’s allowed me to bring to a conclusion all the stories that I began in my other Blaze® books, Led into Temptation and Taken Beyond Temptation. I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did.

Love and laughter always,

Cara Summers

Was CARA SUMMERS born with the dream of becoming a published romance novelist? No. But now that she is, she still feels her dream has come true. She loves writing for the Blaze line because it allows her to create strong, determined women and seriously sexy men who will risk everything to achieve their dreams. Cara has written more than thirty books, and when she isn’t working on new stories, she teaches in the Writing Program at Syracuse University and at a community college near her home.

Twice the Temptation

Cara Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my brother Andy who reads all of

my books and thinks I’m a better writer than

“Billy” Shakespeare! You are definitely my

biggest fan. And thanks for posing for all of my

covers, too! I love you!

Prologue

MAKING A SALES PITCH to a ghost wasn’t something they’d covered in the MBA program at Harvard’s Business School. No, indeedy, thought Avery Cooper as he stepped into the tower room where the spirit of legendary film star Hattie Haworth had resided for some forty-five years.

Avery straightened his tie and took a deep breath. He’d been managing the Haworth House hotel for the Brightman sisters well over a year now, and he’d known right from the get-go that the original owner haunted the place. The story was that she’d fled to Belle Island to build her new home when both her marriage and her career had tanked in Hollywood.

She’d appeared to all three of the sisters right in this very room. Jillian Brightman, his best friend and excollege roommate, had included that piece of information when she’d hired him to manage the hotel.

Avery doubted that a dozen ghosts could have deterred him from accepting her job offer. Not once Jillian had explained what she and her sisters, Naomi and Reese, had in mind. And now, the picture she’d painted for him—a small exclusive hotel on an island off the coast of Maine—had become a reality.

He let his gaze sweep the tower room. Late afternoon sunlight slanted through a circle of windows, and the muted sound of the sea could be heard crashing on the rocks below. During the renovation, the tower room had been turned into an office/sitting room where each of the sisters worked when they were in residence. But fifty-five years ago, this was where Hattie Haworth and her lover, a man from the village, had shared their love and lived out their fantasies for nearly a year.

You’re stalling. Avery frowned. What in the world was wrong with him? In his line of work, he was never at a loss for words. And Hattie Haworth had already proven that she loved the sisters as much as he did. Not only had she played a role in saving both Naomi’s and Jillian’s lives but she’d brought them each together with their true loves by satisfying their most secret fantasies.

And the fantasies were what he needed to talk to Hattie about. Avery strode forward until he stood in front of the gilt-framed, beveled mirror. Peering into it, all he could see was his own reflection—a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man in his late twenties. His grandmother would have approved of the clothes—a suit, tie and shirt in varying shades of gray. Grandma Cooper had always told him that it was important to dress well.

He could only hope that Hattie shared that opinion. But so far, he saw no sign of that in the glass. All three of the sisters claimed to have glimpsed Hattie Haworth’s image in the mirror. Naomi and Jillian had also claimed to have carried on one-sided conversations with her.

Shit. He fingered his tie again. He hadn’t been this nervous when he’d defended his Masters thesis at Harvard.

“Hattie, I’m Avery Cooper. You may have seen me around.”

Duh. Get to the point. “I came to talk to you about an idea I have. It concerns your fantasy box and Reese.”

Avery blinked, then narrowed his eyes. Was that the tiniest flash of light he’d seen in the mirror?

“Jillian told me all about how she found your secret room and the hat box with the fantasies in it, how she and her sisters each chose an envelope out of it on the night they bought Haworth House.”

He paused, but saw nothing in the mirror. Had he imagined it?

“Okay, old news. But I want you to know that I think the world of the two men Naomi and Jillian have hooked up with as a result of those fantasies. Dane and Ian MacFarland are the best.” In his opinion, the two men were perfect matches for Naomi and Jillian. Now, if Hattie could just work the same magic for Reese …

This time he was sure he saw a shimmer of light. Just for an instant. But it was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

Okay, you’ve got her attention. Now all you have to do is sell it.

“I have this idea. Reese is a bang-up chef. The whole menu here at the hotel is hers. And she designed the kitchen. She’s so good that the pilot she filmed for a syndicated cooking show in L.A. has just sold thirteen episodes.”

Get to the point. “But she hasn’t been back to visit the hotel in a while. She’s moved all her stuff in, but she hasn’t really made the place her home. Reese claims she’s too busy. But even now, when she’s on a break from filming her new TV series, she’s holed up in L.A.”

Avery stepped closer to the mirror. “I’m wondering if she’s worried about that parchment envelope she drew out of your fantasy box. You know, you’re two for two in the fantasy-fulfillment department. If I’d drawn one out, I might be a little nervous, too.”

When he paused to take a breath, Avery was almost sure he heard a sound. Laughter?

Narrowing his eyes, he raised both hands, palms outward. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m okay in the fantasy department. My partner and I are very happy.”

Nothing.

When in doubt, forge ahead. “The thing is, I’d like to see Reese as happy as her sisters.” He cleared his throat. “And she’s not. What I think she needs is a good nudge. And you’re the best nudger I know. So I came up with the idea of offering a Singles Weekend here at the hotel, one that would include events—beach picnics and other activities like hiking and sailing—so that singles with similar interests can hook up with each other. I did some fast talking and convinced Reese she needed to be here for it. Her sisters and their fiancés are all traveling and I told her one of the owners had to be around.” He waved a hand. “Yada, yada, yada. I’ve even persuaded her to do a little hands-on cooking demo on Sunday afternoon for the foodies.”

Avery stopped and drew in a deep breath.

When he paused this time, there were no lights, no laughs. He hoped he was good at selling ideas. But he hadn’t mentioned the kicker yet.

“Once she’s here, I figure it will be up to you to handle the rest, the way you did for her sisters.” He drew in a breath and let it out. “But here’s the part I thought I ought to talk to you about.”

Nothing.

“I want to use the fantasies in your box as an added marketing draw. We’ll have a mixer party on the first night and allow those singles interested to draw out one of the parchment envelopes. We might not get any takers, considering that only the locals know about your fantasy box. The sisters have kept it pretty quiet. But when I was thinking about how to get Reese here for a few days so that you could deal with her fantasy, I thought, why not offer the opportunity to someone else? And then …” Avery waved a hand. “What will happen, will happen.”

Any minute now he was going to break out into a chorus of “Que sera, sera” from that old Doris Day film.

For a moment the air around him stilled. And in the reflection in the mirror, he saw a panel in the wall behind him slide open.

The secret room.

He’d heard Naomi and Jillian both speak of it, but he’d never seen it. Turning, he strode to it, and sure enough, there on the floor was a linen-covered hat box. Lifting it, he carried it with him to face the mirror again.

On the cover he read the words Fantasy Box: Choose carefully. The one you draw out will come true.

Though the sisters had all spoken about the warning, seeing the words for the first time sent a little shiver up Avery’s spine.

He shifted his gaze to the mirror. “This isn’t for the faint of heart. But I’m going to assume I have your approval.”

For a moment, he could have sworn that the sound of the ocean grew louder. Then he saw two images take form in the mirror—a woman in a long white dress with reddish gold curls falling to her shoulders and a tall man with fair hair standing with her, their hands joined.

Both of them were smiling.

Even after the images faded, Avery stared into the glass for a long time.

1

Thursday morning—the day before Singles Weekend

THIS IS THE DAY I’M TAKING Charge of my Life.

At least that was the plan, Reese reminded herself as she got out of the van in the driveway of Haworth House. Shading her eyes, she glanced up at the tower, the place she and her sisters now called home. A home she’d moved all her belongings into and then allowed a ghost to scare her away from.

Not that she was afraid of Hattie Haworth herself. After all, she owed the silent film star big time for saving the lives of her two sisters and bringing them each together with a man they’d fallen in love with—Dane and Ian MacFarland. It was the fantasy she’d drawn out of Hattie’s fantasy box, along with Hattie’s matchmaking skill that had kept her from really settling in at Haworth House.

Well, that was going to stop. She was twenty-four years old, and Reese Brightman’s M.O. was about to change. No more running away. No more letting the people who cared about her push roadblocks out of her path.

That had been the history of her life so far. She’d been a baby, her sisters a few years older when they’d lost their mother, and their father had left them in the care of the nuns at a Catholic boarding school in the south of France. Six months later, when he, too, had died, the good sisters had kept them and raised them. All of her life, there’d been people taking care of her, making her life run smoothly, eliminating obstacles when they appeared in her path.

From now on, she was going to deal with her own problems. And first on her list was taking care of the silly fantasy she’d drawn out of Hattie’s fantasy box. Avery’s phone call inviting her to help launch the hotel’s first Singles Weekend was just the nudge she’d needed.

For starters, it allowed her to take a reprieve from her problems in L.A. Just thinking about the two anonymous notes she’d received during the last two weeks had fear bubbling up again. Ruthlessly, she shoved it down. She wasn’t a wimp. She might have ignored the notes if they both hadn’t been accompanied by a single black rose. It was the roses that gave her the willies.

And then there was the finicky producer of her TV cooking show, Mr. Can’t-Make-Up-His-Mind Mac Davies, who after shooting three different pilots, was still waffling about the setting for the thirteen episodes they’d sold. According to her agent, Davies’ staff was scouting out locations and filming was on hold until he found the perfect one. And she should be patient.

Usually, she was. Usually, she was quite willing to let events run their course. But this TV show was the biggest thing that had ever happened to her so far. And it frustrated her that Mac Davies hadn’t once asked for her input. Both times she’d tried to make a personal appointment with him, he’d refused to see her. And she’d let him get away with that. Shading her eyes, she frowned up at the tower. That was the old Reese Brightman.

“Your bag, Ms. Brightman.”

Reese shifted her gaze to the young man who’d driven her from the ferry.

“Would you like me to carry it into the lobby for you?”

“No thanks, Larry.” Noticing the surprised look on his face, Reese smiled as she took her duffel. “I can manage.” She wasn’t quite ready to go inside and talk to Avery yet.

She needed to gather her thoughts and have a little chat with Hattie. As soon as the van drove away, she strode down the driveway, and after a quick look around to make sure the driveway was deserted, she pulled a parchment envelope out of her pocket, then narrowed her eyes once more on the semi-circle of windows in the tower. “Because of you, I’ve been avoiding this place like the plague.”

As soon as the words were out, a ribbon of guilt wound its way up her spine. “Okay, okay, maybe it’s not all your fault.” Her schedule had been very busy—finishing her first book tour and then filming those three pilots for the hard-to-please Mac Davies.

“Part of the blame can be laid at the door of my boy-genius producer, Mac Davies. In the first pilot, I was a French pastry chef and the whole set was pink. Yuck! Then he changed his mind and turned me into a ditsy housewife giving everyday dishes a gourmet flair. Double yuck! “

Reese blinked. Had it been her imagination or had she seen a figure at one of the windows? Hattie had been pretty familiar with the L.A. scene some sixty-plus years ago. Maybe it hadn’t changed all that much. Encouraged, she continued, “I’ve never met this producer, but my agent urged me to be patient. Evidently, Mac Davies is the guy the networks go to when they want to raise ratings. Every show he’s produced so far has been an Emmy-winning hit.”

Reese frowned and waved the parchment envelope. “And that is not what I want to talk to you about. It’s this ridiculous fantasy.”

And it was ridiculous. But telling herself that hadn’t stopped a tingle of anticipation every time she thought about it.

Drawing a deep breath, she pulled the parchment out of the envelope and read the words again. You will explore all the sensual delights of having your own boy toy.

Boy toy.

Just looking at the words had her skin heating, her breath catching. The nerves in her stomach danced their way into a regular highland fling.

Tucking the parchment back into the envelope, she shot an accusing glance at the tower. “Having a boy toy has never been my fantasy.”

At least it never had been before.

Frustrated, she began to pace back and forth in the driveway. “Naomi and Jillian both drew out fantasies that they’d entertained before. So I figured you’d made a mistake with me.” She’d never had the time nor the inclination to … what? Play with a boy toy?

“Fantasies,” she muttered. Maybe that was the way Hattie and her lover had chosen to spend their time. And that was fine. Considering what had come to light about Hattie’s affair with Samuel Jenkins and its tragic ending, she didn’t begrudge them any of the short time they’d had together. But she had better things to do.

“I simply don’t have time for men. Been there. Done that.” For the first time in years, Reese found herself remembering the man she’d met when she’d first entered Le Cordon Bleu. Charlie Dutoit had been one of her classmates. He’d been handsome and charming, and she’d been young. It had been April in Paris and she’d fallen hard. When he’d dumped her two weeks before graduation, she’d run back to the boarding school and very nearly given up on her dream of becoming a worldclass chef.

That had been five years ago, and so much had happened since then. Reese stopped short and whirled to face the tower windows again. She hadn’t thought of Charlie in years. So why was she thinking about him now?

She glanced down at the envelope she still held in her hand. Was she worried about more than the fantasy?

Narrowing her eyes, she shifted her gaze to the windows again. “Maybe it is more than the fantasy I’m nervous about. At first I might have stayed away because I thought you made a mistake. But I’ve seen what you’ve done with my sisters. You made a lot more than just their fantasies come true. Dane MacFarland is perfect for Naomi, and Ian is exactly right for Jillian.”

Was that the real source of her skittish nerves?

She fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m not interested in having a man in my life right now.”

But a boy toy …?

Even as the words formed in her mind, Reese was sure she saw two figures standing in one of the windows. Then they faded. But the words in her mind lingered.

A boy toy …

Reese glanced down at the envelope. Was it possible that she was still letting a betrayal that had happened five years ago affect her life? Was it possible that Charlie Dutoit still had her doubting her own judgment when it came to men?

Well, not anymore.

She shifted her gaze to the front door of the hotel. She held in her hand an, as yet, unfulfilled fantasy and she was going to a Singles Weekend—for better or worse.

When she glanced back up at the tower, she saw nothing but the windows. “I know you’re there, Hattie, and here’s the deal. I’m not letting you or anyone else push me into something I’m not ready for. I’ve come to help Avery launch the hotel’s first Singles Weekend. If I decide to enjoy a boy toy, it will be my decision.”

This is the day I’m taking charge of my life.

Reese strode to the hotel steps and took them two at a time. She had to let Avery know she was here a day early. Then they could talk about what he wanted her to contribute to his big Singles Weekend. He’d mentioned a sunset cookout on the beach, a volleyball tournament, as well as hiking and sailing day trips. And she had to firm up the cooking demo he wanted her to do on Sunday. Then, of course, there would be the big singles mixer tomorrow night that would include a chance to draw a fantasy from Hattie’s box.

The door of the hotel swung open. As she dashed through it, she glanced down to see she was still holding the envelope with the fantasy she’d drawn gripped tightly in her hand. And in that moment of inattention, she ran full tilt into a solid wall of muscle and man.

Her breath whooshed out, her duffel and the envelope both went flying as she shot backward onto her butt. For a moment, all she could do was stare at the long, denim-clad legs in front of her.

Then before she could blink or even draw in a breath, two strong hands gripped her wrists and pulled her to her feet. She was tall, but she had to glance up to meet his eyes. They were so blue, they seemed to burn right through her.

Her pulse raced frantically against the pressure of those long, lean fingers. But it wasn’t just awareness that moved through her. There was a ripple of something else. Recognition?

“Sorry. Are you all right?”

Reese thought she managed a nod. But several things were distracting her. He was so big, his shoulders so broad. The hands that had moved to her upper arms were large and very male. She was very aware of the heat of them against her bare skin.

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

She couldn’t manage more than another nod because she couldn’t seem to breathe yet, and her knees felt weak. Those incredibly blue eyes held her captive, but she still noticed the handsome face with the warrior cheekbones, the strong chin. It was a wonder that the modeling industry hadn’t snapped him up and made him a media star. His dark hair looked mussed as if someone had just run her hands through it.

Her hands? Even as her palms tingled, Reese felt heat rush through her—the same kind she’d felt each time she’d let herself think about the boy toy fantasy.

Her fantasy! Where was it?

“My … things.”

She pulled away, dropped to her knees and glanced frantically around for the envelope. Spotting it just behind him, she reached for it at the same time he did.

When she jerked it away, she ended up with the envelope and he the message.

Panic and embarrassment raced for first place when she saw him glance down at it.

What would he think? What could she say? Her first impulse was to get to her feet and run. But she was through with that.

“Here.”

She didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes when she took it from his outstretched hand. But she hadn’t run. “Thanks,” she managed as she stuffed it into the envelope and crammed both into her pocket. Then she scrambled to her feet.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked as he handed her the duffel.

No.

She drew in the first full breath she’d taken since she’d run into him. “Absolutely.” One way or another, she was going to face head-on what life dealt her. Lifting her chin, she met his eyes.

Relief flooded her when she read nothing in his gaze. No laughter, no questions, not even curiosity. Perhaps he hadn’t read the words, after all.

It’s not disappointment I’m feeling. Really.

“Reese, my darling girl.”

Even more relief flooded through her when she saw Avery hurrying toward her. He’d called her my darling girl from the first moment that her sister Jillian had introduced him to her, and the endearment never failed to warm her.

When she ran into his arms, he scooped her up and swung her around. “You’re early.”

“Only a day.”

“Well, you’ve made mine! I can definitely use your help. I just booked the last room to one of Ian MacFarland’s old buddies from his CIA days, Cody Marsh. You remember him?”