She’s ready to take back what’s hers

Since the moment a local crime boss claimed ownership of her family’s fairground, Sasha Todd has dreamed of righting the wrong. Now it’s time to act, and backing down from the man’s estranged son is definitely not an option. After all, giving up her legacy to hot-blooded John Jordon means losing the chance to finally heal the wounds in her past.

Stopping John in his tracks—and resisting the sizzle between them—is Sasha’s best defense. But there’s more to him than she thought, which changes everything. With what matters most at stake, she’ll have to risk a brand-new future with John, or walk away from the man whose heart belongs to her.

“Relax and enjoy the ride, Mr. Boss Man. It’s fun.”

As if to demonstrate, Sasha lifted her hand from the bar and jabbed both arms high in the air. “Woo-hoo!”

Even as they went in for another sweep at breakneck speed, he couldn’t drag his eyes from hers.

“Cat got your tongue, John?”

A strange clunk rumbled through the mechanics, and his burgeoning smile vanished. “What was—”

Another rumble and the ride spun into freefall. Her hands ripped from the bar and she was flung into his side from the force of gravity whizzing around them. She smashed into his rib cage and the breath left his lungs. “Bloody hell.”

Her gaze ran over his face to linger at his mouth. The desire to kiss her filtered through his mind. To show her who was boss and stop this damn power play she had going on. What was she doing to him? This was not the plan at all.

Dear Reader,

I am thrilled to introduce the first book in the new three-book contract I have signed with the Mills and Boon Superromance line. This is fabulous news for both you and me because it means we can continue to visit my most favorite place in the world, Templeton Cove! How can somewhere I created not be my favorite place? With each book I write set in this fictional U.K. seaside town, I fall more in love with its residents and settings. I am beyond grateful for your wonderful feedback, reviews and ratings for the first two books.

With the third book, I am introducing a brand-new hero and heroine. My heroine, Sasha Todd, runs the town’s fairground. Funland has been in her family for generations before her grandfather sold it to the town’s criminal mastermind, Kyle Jordon. Vowing to one day get the fairground back in her family where it belongs, Sasha thinks when Kyle is imprisoned her time to strike has finally come. Until the son nobody knew existed arrives in town…

John Jordan has plans of his own when he arrives at the Cove—plans to uncover his father’s wrongdoings and publicly ruin the man who murdered his wife’s killer and then abandoned their child. What John doesn’t expect is an adversary in the form of beautiful Sasha Todd. Sparks fly from the beginning between these passionate, strong and determined individuals. Someone’s going to get burned…and fall in love.

I hope you enjoy this third visit to Templeton Cove—the residents will be back again later in 2014 for their first Christmas adventure with you. Don’t forget to bring the mistletoe!

I love to connect with my readers—please “like” my Rachel Brimble page on Facebook and/or follow me on Twitter. I am always there and love to chat!

Best wishes,

Rachel Brimble

What Belongs to Her

Rachel Brimble

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel lives with her husband and two young daughters in a small town near Bath in the U.K. After having several novels published by small U.S. presses, she secured agent representation in 2011. In 2012, she sold two books to the Mills and Boon Superromance line and a further three in 2013. Rachel is a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and Romance Writers of America. When she isn’t writing, you’ll find her with her head in a book or walking the beautiful English countryside with her family and beloved black Lab, Max. Her dream place to live is Bourton-on-the-Water in South West England.

She is superexcited to have the chance to meet her readers and editors at the upcoming RWA conference in San Antonio, Texas. See you there!

She likes nothing more than connecting and chatting with her readers and fellow romance writers. Rachel would love to hear from you!

Website: www.RachelBrimble.com

Blog: www.RachelBrimble.blogspot.co.uk

Twitter: @RachelBrimble

Facebook: www.Facebook.com/RachelBrimbleAuthor

MILLS & BOON

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To the many friends and family who continue to support me in my writing endeavors despite the lack of time I get to spend with you guys! You know who you are….

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book could not have been written without the wonderful support of three very special romance writers, my intrepid critique partners: A J Nuest, Angel Nicholas and Vonnie Davis…no idea where I’d be without you!

I also want to thank my friend and U.K. romance writer Allie Spencer, who has supported me by answering many questions throughout my research for this book. Thank you, lovely!

Thank you to my agent, Dawn Dowdle, who continues to believe in my work, no matter how many times I doubt myself.

Finally, a huge thank-you to Piya Campana, my wonderful editor, who adores the love and laughter of the Templeton Cove residents equally as much as I do.

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 Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

SASHA TODD STOOD ramrod-straight and narrowed her eyes as she studied the man standing near the bumper cars talking to a group of teenage girls. Unease rippled up her spine. Was one of them his daughter? Or was the son of a bitch edging in on forbidden territory? Uncrossing her arms, she pulled back her shoulders and strode forward, suppressed anger burning hot in her stomach.

When she was two feet away from them, one of the girls gave a delighted shriek and threw her arms around the man’s neck. “Thanks, Daddy. You’re the best.”

He laughed. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now behave yourselves. I’ll be back at nine-thirty to pick you up.”

The girl untangled herself from her father’s embrace and waved, linking arms with her friend, her father’s generous wad of spending money clutched in her hand. Her father stared fondly after her, before pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket and heading toward the fairground gates. Sasha released her held breath, heat pinching her cheeks. She couldn’t deny the proud smile he wore was one of a father who adored and cared for his little girl.

She sent silent thanks to God, relieved that her continual paranoia had been proven unsubstantiated once again. Happiness relaxed her shoulders, and she smiled as she surveyed the domain that would soon be entirely hers, excitement washing through her. She rounded one of the three Funland burger stands and came to an abrupt stop, her eyebrows rising in appreciation.

“Well, hello there.” She casually appraised the handsome stranger standing at the Ferris wheel.

His dark, glossy hair and the gray five-o’clock shadow that brushed his jaw caught her interest...but it was the muscular forearms revealed beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his checked shirt, and the undoubtedly strong thighs covered with faded denim that reeled her in all the way.

Dance music pulsed from the loudspeakers at the corners of the bumper cars, and screams emanated from the roller coaster hurtling along the tracks above. Sasha’s heart rate hitched higher. Lordy, the man was built. Inhaling a deep breath, she wandered closer under the pretense of cool nonchalance.

Tomorrow she’d face Kyle Jordon’s asshole second-in-command and begin the task of taking back the fair from Kyle’s criminal hands—but for tonight, she wanted some personal time. Some time to release the pressure of having to endure years of silent frustration. Frustration that had built to bursting if her earlier, misconstrued, father/daughter exchange was anything to go by.

She smiled. If everything went to plan, the fair would finally soon be back in the Todd family after Kyle had maliciously stolen it from her dying grandfather when he was in his most vulnerable and desperate state.

Exhaling, she concentrated on the satisfying sight of the stranger’s taut ass. She tossed her hair over her shoulders, enjoying a rare rush of power. He stared up at the Ferris wheel as it slowly worked its romantic magic around the couples swinging to and fro in the brightly colored carriages. His jaw was a hardened line as he intently studied the ride. The man looked as though he wanted to spit at the joviality of it.

As she drew closer, the stiff set of his shoulders and the fisted hands at his hips swayed Sasha’s confidence. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She glanced up at the ride. What if his girlfriend was up there alone and avoiding him? Or worse, up there with a new lover? A guy pitching for a fight was the last thing she needed added to her already teetering pile of problems.

Her smile dissolved and she shrugged on her manager persona. A potential fight brewing gave her no choice but to step in and cool the simmering fire before it had time to set fully alight. Sidling up beside him, she gave a loud, theatrical cough.

He turned, and his dark blue eyes coolly pinned her to the spot. She forced herself to stand still as his gaze languidly glided over her face, lingering for a moment at her lips. No smile lifted the corners of his mouth. No softness seeped into his hardened study.

She smiled even as her stomach knotted. “Hi.”

He continued to stare.

Okay, so he’s got that sexy, broody thing going on, but since when does a guy—any guy—leave me speechless? Say something...

“Well, you’re all sorts of angry, aren’t you?” Great, Sasha. Just poetic.

He lifted an eyebrow and turned his focus back to the ride.

She frowned and glared at his profile, feeling like an idiot. The guy needed to take a serious chill pill. Did he think he had a monopoly on being pissed off? Wakey, wakey, mister, the entire human race holds a grudge of one kind or another.

“I was only trying to make conversation. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine.” She shrugged. “I haven’t seen you before and, as I’m the person running things around here, I thought you might appreciate a friendly word, a kind welcome. My name’s Sasha—”

“I know who you are.”

She stiffened. The deep, smooth lilt of his upper-class English voice filled her with equal measures of attraction and warning. “Pardon me?”

He faced her and crossed his arms across his broad chest. “You’re Sasha Todd, exceptionally pretty and svelte manageress of this fairground, known so lovingly as Funland. You work for Kyle Jordon. Although, while Kyle’s currently boarding at Her Majesty’s pleasure in prison, you are undoubtedly forced to answer to his bull mastiff of a lapdog, the wonderfully charming and partially toothed Freddy Campton. Am I right?”

Sasha crossed her arms, mimicking his stance as irritation simmered inside her. “Yes, but who—”

“How do you feel about that, Miss Todd?”

“What?”

“Moreover, how are you going to feel knowing that from tomorrow, you’ll be answering to me and not him?”

Sasha froze as his words filtered through her mind. What the hell did he just say? She uncrossed her arms and splayed her hands on her hips. “Is this some kind of joke?”

A flicker of amusement lit his eyes before he blinked and they turned cold once more. “No joke. From tomorrow you’ll be reporting to me.”

Panic and disbelief hurtled through her. Who the hell does this guy think he is? She huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think so. Who are you?”

“Your new boss.”

She grinned, hoping it would coerce some semblance of a smile to his lips and make him tell her he was kidding. “Very funny. You’re a funny guy, Mr.—”

“You don’t believe me?” His face remained unnervingly impassive.

Okay, enough was enough. “I asked you who you are. If you want to toss a revelation like that at me, the least you can do is tell me your name. Not that I’m likely to believe a word you say after this slightly creepy performance.”

He uncrossed his arms and offered his hand, which she took without thinking. His hand enveloped hers. Warm, smooth and unnervingly large. Why did she have the sudden and unwelcome suspicion nothing about this guy was small or weak?

“John Jordon.” He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She stared into his eyes, her heart picking up speed. No, no, no. She swallowed in an effort to bring some saliva back into her desert-dry mouth. “Jordon? Are you telling me you’re Kyle’s son? His brother?”

He smiled.

She scowled as anger shot through her body with the speed of a freight train. Frustration and the enormity of what this meant turned her vision pink with rage. She slowly eased her hand from his and fisted her hair back from her face. “Well?”

“I’m his son.”

She closed her eyes, struggling to maintain her equilibrium and not freak out. “As far as I was aware Kyle doesn’t have a son or a brother.” She opened her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

His gaze locked on hers for a moment before it shot toward the crowds of people walking around the fair, laughing and shouting without a care in the world. “I’m his son whether you want to believe it or not.” He met her eyes. “And I’ll be here running things for the foreseeable future. So the sooner we get acquainted, the better.”

“Get acquainted?” She laughed as her shaky self-control snapped. “You have no idea, do you? No damn idea whatsoever.”

The anger dissolved from his eyes and was replaced with wary confusion. “About what? This place?”

“About everything. You need to go.”

His brow furrowed as he stared. “That won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”

Trembling, Sasha walked backward, opening the space between them. She shook her head. “You can’t do this. You can’t do this to me. Not now.”

His frown deepened. “Do what?”

She waved her hand at him. “Do this. Turn up here. Say these things. I won’t let you do this.”

“Miss Todd—”

“I’m leaving.” Her mind raced and her body felt strangely numb. “This isn’t happening.”

He put his hand out as if to touch her, hesitated and then dropped it to his side. “Wait. Just wait.” The stiff set of his shoulders slumped. “Maybe we should start—”

Sasha fled. She resolutely fought the tears that burned her eyes and blurred the crowds in front of her as she shouldered her way through. Her breathing grew labored and she rasped as if she had sharpened needles inside her chest. John Jordon. Kyle Jordon’s son. He was going to take her fair. It was his. Not hers. Never hers.

She choked back a sob as the green, wrought-iron gates of the fairground came into view. Stumbling, she gripped them, shook them, wanting to rip them from their hinges. A scream gathered momentum, burning the back of her throat, and she dropped her head against the gate. Damn you, Kyle Jordon. Damn you to hell.

The gentle, firm grip of a male hand on her shoulder spun Sasha around. Her heart thundered as she stood poised for a fight. Under the light above them, John Jordon’s eyes were soft with concern, the sculpted lines of his previously inscrutable expression somehow tamer.

She closed her eyes, stopping her traitorous tears in their tracks. “Just do me a favor and go away. Back to wherever the hell it is you came from.”

* * *

“I’M SORRY, I can’t do that.” John slipped both his hands into his back pockets. The last thing he wanted to do was touch her. Liar.

He knew she wanted the fair, but no part of him had expected the raw hurt and panic that showed so clearly in her eyes. This wasn’t a woman prepared to do whatever it takes—this was a woman who was hurt...and angry.

For a long moment, she neither moved nor spoke. Just stayed where she was. Her slender shoulders, smooth and naked, rose and fell above the fitted confines of her bright yellow halter top. He struggled to drag his eyes from the length of her jet-black hair that fell in two gloriously thick sheets over her breasts.

He’d seen her from a distance all day and felt nothing. Yet, the moment she stood close, the full impact of her stunningly dark eyes and full, smiling mouth zipped a bullet through his chest.

He cleared his throat. “Miss Todd?”

Her sigh was loud and tired. She straightened and tipped her head back and looked directly at him. The tiny smudges of makeup beneath her eyes smacked John in the chest. God damn it. She’d been crying. He pulled back his shoulders and tightened his jaw. No, he had to be stronger than this. While he was in Templeton he couldn’t be the man who looked out for everyone. He had to do what he came to do and then go home. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t have delivered the news that way, but—”

“Are you here to take over from where your dad left off?” Her eyes were wide and cold. “That’s all I want to know right now. Everything else I’ll deal with tomorrow.”

John ran his hand over his face. Tomorrow, he’d be better prepared, too. Her explosion had knocked him off-kilter, making him care. Tomorrow, he’d have it under control. He crossed his arms. “Yes.”

“You’re taking over the fair?”

“Yes.”

She glanced past him toward the rides and noisy chaos of the fairground. Her jaw clenched. “I never even knew you existed.” She met his eyes. “Kyle never mentioned a son to me or anyone else, as far as I remember.”

John held her gaze, silently absorbing her unintentional insult.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him; an intelligent light flickered brighter and then faded into their gorgeous depths. “None of my business, right? How did I know that was coming?” She gave a wry laugh. “Jesus, like father like son.”

He flinched. She might as well have punched him in the gut. “I’m nothing like my father.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “So you say. From the five minutes I’ve spent with you, you’ve already managed to piss me off as much as he did every damn day he was here.” She raised her hands in defeat. “I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When she moved to brush past him, John touched her arm, stopping her. “I’d like to see you in the office first thing.”

She looked pointedly at his hand on her forearm. He released her, and she raised her chin. “Oh, I’ll be there. I’ll be there with freaking bells on.”

She stalked away from him. He released a low whistle from between pursed lips as his gaze glued onto the soft curve of her butt encased in black denim.

John’s father had described Sasha Todd as a ballsy, tough broad in need of a firm hand. He’d warned John to be wary of her. In the blink of an eye, she could be all soft femininity with the patrons, but in reality she was a fiery, spitting alley cat. He’d said that soft side of her was an act—the real Sasha Todd was apparently a hard-nosed businesswoman.

Two personalities—that’s what Kyle had said. Two personalities, each as scary as the other.

John drew in a long breath. Well, clearly he had a fight on his hands, but that was just fine by him. After years of self-control, of conservative containment within the walls of a private boarding school, Oxford University and then his own classroom, this teacher was ready to let off some steam.

He scowled as he strode back inside the fairground. If Sasha Todd thought she could direct any of her pissiness at him and come away unscathed, she’d better think again.

Like she said, he was Kyle Jordon’s son, and even though the bastard had abandoned him years ago—and now had the gall to ask for his help—little did she or Kyle know what John intended to do about it. John glanced around his father’s domain. A fairground used as a cover for his illegal dealings—a place for kids and teenagers. The man was scum.

John scowled. Kyle might have thought it was time for a father-and-son reconciliation, but his son had other ideas. At last, John knew where Kyle was after years of speculation and silence. When his father finally made contact just six short weeks ago, he’d clearly thought the path to father/son love would be simple and John would want the riches and immorality his father thrived on. Unfortunately for Daddy Dearest, that was just the sort of perilous miscalculation that occurred when a parent vanished, leaving their children to drift through life without them.

John smiled. One way or another he’d right his father’s wrongs...while royally screwing Kyle over and leaving the son of a bitch without a penny to his damn name.

CHAPTER TWO

SITTING ON THE balcony of her apartment in one of two ancient patio chairs, Sasha scowled at the view. The temperature was above average for July, but a slight breeze cut through the warmth and she pulled her pashmina tighter around her shoulders. The flickering lights of her beloved fairground taunted her in the distance, the sounds of laughter and rock music ringing in her ears. She wanted to punch something.

Kyle Jordon’s son was there right now, no doubt parading around like he already owned the place. She cursed. He does own it, you numbskull.

Leaning forward, she picked up her wineglass from the upturned crate beside her. The cabernet sauvignon, warm and fruity, slid down her throat, ever so slightly mellowing her fraught nerves and barely controlled need to vent some serious anger.

Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling John Jordon was about as happy to be there as she was about his arrival.

Sasha struggled to get her emotions under control. She had to resist her instinct to worry about every damn thing before it happened. Her primal need to prevent evil before it could strike. Who was to say the guy wasn’t there under duress? She glanced at her cell phone sitting on the table. Either way, she had a right to know why she hadn’t been warned about his unwanted entrance. She had a right to demand some background information on the handsome enigma known as John Jordon.

Snatching up her phone, she punched in Freddy’s cell number and focused once more on the fairground lights. Her heart beat hard as the tone rang ominously in her ear. She was just about to end the call when the line picked up.

“Freddy Campton’s phone.”

Sasha froze. Damn it. It was him. John-bloody-Jordon. What were the chances of him answering? She cleared her throat and sat up straight. Hell would freeze over before she’d let him get the better of her. “Is Freddy around?”

“Not right now. Can I take a message?”

“No. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow. Thanks anyway.”

“You know, if you’re calling to ask about me, you could just come straight to the source. What is it you’d like to know, Miss Todd?”

She narrowed her gaze. The man’s voice sounded more uppity and posh than ever. “My name’s Sasha. Can we drop the Miss Todd? We tend to work on a first-name basis at the fairground. You know, circa the twenty-first century.”

There was a pause before his breath rasped down the line. “I see.”

Sasha glared. Was that a whiff of laugher or disdain in his tone? She’d bet a hundred British pounds on the former. “Are you laughing at me...Mr. Jordon?”

“John, please.” This time he definitely laughed.

Her stomach knotted as a blush dared to warm her cheeks. She steadfastly bit back her smile. “Clearly, there are some things we need to get straight if we’re going to start off as civilized individuals tomorrow.”

“Meaning we’re likely to get uncivil?”

The heat at her cheeks hitched up a notch. His voice was like liquid velvet, making the suggestion of incivility almost sexual. She shifted in her seat. “Fine. If you want our working relationship to start off on the wrong foot, who am I to argue? Could you just let Freddy know I called and that I’d appreciate a call back?”

“So you’d still rather ask him rather than me why I’m here?”

Damn it. She stared at the fair again. This man, with his smooth voice, handsome looks and, though she hated to admit it, masculine charm, was making her feel the need to fully arm herself before she set a single foot inside the fairground office tomorrow morning.

“Miss...Sasha? You still there?”

“Of course. I’m going nowhere.” She picked up her wineglass and drained it before reaching for the bottle. Strength in grapes.

He cleared his throat. “I need you to work with me. This isn’t a fight to the death.”

She sniffed. “That’s what you think.”

“Pardon me?”

Her hand stilled around the wine bottle before she released it and drove her clawed fingers into her hair instead. Clearly, more alcohol was not advisable. Her damn tongue was running away with her.

“Look, tomorrow’s another day.” She sighed and focused on dragging up a little dignity to battle her desire to poke out the man’s eyes. “I’m just put out I wasn’t told about your arrival. I’m sure tomorrow won’t be as onerous as I’m thinking it will be right now.”

“I’m quite a nice guy...sometimes.”

She scowled. “And I’m quite a nice woman...sometimes.”

He laughed and her stomach knotted again. Damn it, why were her guts going all stupid every time this man laughed?

“I need your help.” He inhaled a heavy breath. “I don’t particularly like that fact, but I’m man enough to admit it. Kyle told me you know the fair better than anyone. I can’t do anything without you.”

The humor in his tone had vanished, leaving behind a rough, masculine assurance that conflicted with his words.

Slow and steady wins the race, Sasha. Slow and steady wins the race.

She rose from her chair and approached the barrier surrounding the balcony. The swish of the tide lapping the beach a mile down the road drifted to her ears on the gathering breeze, and she inhaled. “And what is it you want to do exactly?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Sasha closed her eyes as her heart turned to lead. Once again, she was fighting. The threat of another battle clinked like crossing swords in her head. “You know something, John?”

“What?”

“If anyone, including your father, had any respect for how long I’ve worked at the fair or what it means to me, they would’ve given me a heads-up about you coming. That didn’t happen, so I’m wondering what you want from me. If you intend to do something with my...the fair, you should at least have the decency to tell me about it.”

Her heart beat out the seconds of silence, broken only by his heavy exhalation. “Nobody knew I was coming.”

She squeezed her eyes tighter. “I don’t believe you.”

“Nobody knew.”

“Was this Kyle’s idea? You turning up like a phantom menace?” She snapped her eyes open and choked out a wry laugh. “Stupid question. Even from behind prison walls, the guy likes to play the great puppet master.”

“I am not Kyle’s puppet.”

His ice-cold tone sent an involuntary shiver down her back. The knee-jerk reaction to apologize lingered on her tongue, but she decided against it. The silence stretched until she was forced to say something. “Look, it’s late and I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be a little more amicable. Let’s just say good-night, shall we?”

“How well do you know my father, Sasha Todd?”

The soft, British upper-class way he said her name rolled down the phone line and licked softly over her skin. Why the hell did the man have to talk that way? Why couldn’t he talk with the rough abrasion of some of the dock workers she knew at the harbor?

She pushed away from the barrier. “Not very well.”

“Yet you’ve worked at the fair your entire life. He bought it from your grandfather. How could you not know him?”

Her heart hitched into her throat. “You know about that?”

“Yes.”

“You know my granddad sold the fair to him? Do you know for how much?”

“Does it matter?”

Nausea whirled hot and heavy in her stomach and she stumbled toward her vacant chair and collapsed onto it. “That matters to me more than anything.”

“Why?”

Frustration surged through her. “All I’ve ever wanted is to get the fairground back where it belongs. It was in my family for generations and then my grandfather had a complete change of heart and let Kyle buy it for a song. Now you turn up and—”

“That’s not strictly true, is it?”

“What isn’t?” Her body trembled with suppressed rage.

“Your parents didn’t want the fair. Your mother, your grandfather’s daughter, is ashamed of it, isn’t she? So, whether or not you ever get the fair back, it would’ve skipped a generation anyhow.”

She gripped the phone until blood pulsed through her fingers. “So?”

“So what is it about the fair that makes you want it so badly? Does the need come from you or your family?”

“That’s none of your business. I want it and, one way or another, I’ll get it. Do you have any idea what it feels like to care about nothing else in the world but for the one thing out of reach? I really, really don’t want to have to fight you, but if you refuse my offer tomorrow—”

“Your offer?”

“Yes, Mr. Snooty Nose, my offer.”

Silence.

Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as she trembled some more.

“Fine. I’ll listen to your offer.” He blew out a breath. “And then I’ll decide whether or not you still have a job.”

The phone line went dead.

Sasha swallowed the hard lump of panic in her throat. Whether or not I still have a job? Is this guy insane? She snapped her phone closed and struggled to fight the horrible sense of foreboding stealing over her. She’d been aggressive, angry, dismissive and disrespectful—all things she’d been careful to avoid with Kyle and his cronies.

Stupid, stupid woman.

With an infinite amount of self-control, she’d bided her time and waited. Saved her money and kept a smile on her face so Kyle had no reason to push her out.

Now she’d snapped and a complete stranger had splintered her facade. He held the ability to rip away everything she wanted in one fell swoop. Why did John Jordon care why the fair meant so much to her? He didn’t know her. He didn’t know Templeton. He knew nothing.

She slowly stood on shaking legs and snatched the wineglass and bottle from the table. Even Kyle held a quiet, if not misplaced, fondness for the fair. The man was a criminal mastermind. A drug pusher and money-laundering bastard who’d finally been caught and thrown in jail, yet at least something inside him made people second-guess if deep down he was a decent man.

None of those same feelings emanated from his son. What John Jordon had in looks and physique, he lacked in warmth and understanding, which his father used unashamedly to blind people to his real motivations.

She opened the French doors and walked inside, welcoming the warmth of her apartment as a way of combating the chill of the unknown permeating her soul.

* * *

JOHN STARED AT the phone, heart beating steadily and mind messed up with a million conflicting emotions. Sasha Todd was something—or someone—he hadn’t accounted for when he’d agreed to come to Templeton Cove. He hadn’t expected a woman as beautiful as her to shake the deep and unyielding barrier around his determination to expose his father for the man he really was.

Worse, he hadn’t anticipated the stark pain of betrayal reflected in her eyes when she stood in front of him, or in her voice on the phone. The little that Kyle’s letters told John about the fair circulated in his mind on an endless reel.

Freddy was Kyle’s trusted second-in-command, and John was aware the fairground was a legitimate cover for the crux of his father’s criminal activities. Sasha Todd had a family history with the place. He remembered his father’s words—“The chick works like a Trojan for shit pay. She should be out there living her life, not stuck in a small English seaside town like Templeton Cove. She needs to let the fair go, son. She needs to meet a decent bloke who puts a different kind of fire in her belly. Brings a damn smile to her face....”

“Who was that on the phone?”

John blinked and pulled his expression into a scowl as Freddy wandered into the converted barn that served as the fairground’s office.

Freddy glared. “More to the point, why are you answering my phone and sitting at my desk?”

Irritation pulsed at John’s temple and he tossed the phone at Freddy, who caught it deftly in one hand. “Sasha Todd just called.” John stood. “I took care of it, so there’s no need to call her back.”

He walked to what was once Kyle’s desk but was now his. The weight of Freddy’s glare on John’s back followed his progress. He whipped his jacket from the huge leather swivel chair. Even the size of Kyle’s chair reflected the size of his damn ego.

The erratic shuffling of papers and the opening and closing of drawers made John turn and face Freddy. The man was checking over his desk in the manner of a dog hunting for blood. John shook his head as he shrugged into his jacket. “I haven’t touched anything so there’s no need to have a coronary on me.”

Freddy grunted. “I don’t like you sitting at my desk. Kyle never had any need—”

“Kyle’s not here. I am.” They locked gazes. “I’m leaving for the night. I assume I don’t need to ask you if you’re okay to close up.”

Silence.

John tensed. He was more than ready for a showdown with the man who had only too clearly shown John his arrival at Templeton was as equally unwelcome as it was to a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty.

Guilt over his harsh responses to Sasha Todd crept up his body, fuelling John’s frustration. “Well?” He snatched his keys from the desk and stared directly at Freddy.

Freddy stared right back, his eyes bulging. “What’s the game here?”

“Game? I’m not playing any game.”

“I ain’t going to lie to you. When Kyle was sentenced, I assumed the baton would pass to me.”

“Why would you think that?” John raised his eyebrows. “Have you ever known Kyle to do the decent thing? Did he regularly reward his loyal followers for their hard work?”

Freddy straightened. “Hey, Kyle’s been good to me.”

“Really? So when did he suggest in any way, shape or form that the fairground was coming to you?” The seconds ticked by as Freddy glowered. John shrugged. “As I thought. My father doesn’t give a crap about anyone. I would’ve thought you’d know that...being his right-hand man and all.”

“I don’t understand why Kyle’s drafted you in to oversee things when he hasn’t seen you for years.”

“How much do you know about my relationship with him?”

Freddy leaned his considerable weight onto his fists on the desktop. “Not much, but—”

“Well, then, from now on, I wouldn’t think too much if I were you. Until I know what’s what at Funland and who the people are Kyle’s got working here, I’ve no idea what will be happening in the future.”

“What future? The fairground ain’t going nowhere. Kyle wouldn’t want anyone taking over who doesn’t know the business like he does.” Color seeped into Freddy’s cheeks, and a vein zigzagged across his temple. “I saw Kyle only last week and he never mentioned your coming. He mentioned you in passing, nothing else. I don’t buy that he’d want you turning up and changing things.”

“You knew he had a son, though?”

Freddy’s gray eyes turned colder than steel. “I’ve known Kyle for fifteen years and the first time he said a word about you was when I last saw him. You two estranged or something? Does he even know you’re here?”

Resentment tipped like paraffin through John’s blood, fuelling his constantly simmering rage against Kyle. “He knows I’m here. Did you meet my father in prison when he was there the first time?”

A muscle worked in Freddy’s jaw. “Yeah. So?”

“And you met up again upon his release nine years ago?”

Freddy nodded, his gaze steady.

John stared. “And he never mentioned me in prison or after?”

“No.”

“Then I guess I’m a big surprise to you in more ways than one.” John smiled, even as his heart beat like a bloody hammer against his rib cage.

Freddy crossed his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, first, you didn’t know about me, and then you find out Kyle has a son. I’m betting a bloody fortune you didn’t expect his sole heir to speak and act like me, either, did you?”

“Your accent don’t mean shit. I’ve met some pretty evil posh bastards inside prison. As for the rest of you?” Freddy’s smile was slow and suggestive. “You scream of being Kyle’s offspring. You’ve got a mean look in your eyes, no matter how much you might smile and want to make friends. People ’round here ain’t going to take too kindly to Kyle’s son turning up, regardless of what plans you’ve got for this place.”

John slid a stack of files off his desk and pushed them under his arm. He grinned. “Worse than that, Freddy, my man, I’m not even sure what I’ve got planned yet, so people are going to wonder—or worry—more than ever what I’m up to, aren’t they? See you tomorrow.”

He strolled to the door and left it wide open behind him. It was nearing eleven and the fair was drawing to a close. The beat of a nineties dance track matched the stomp of John’s boots as he made his way to his car. He unlocked it and slid into the leather seat of Kyle’s Mercedes convertible. Placing the files on the passenger seat, his gaze lingered on the top file emblazoned with Sasha Todd’s name.

“I’ve got my bedtime reading, Kyle. Let’s see what other nightmares you have in store for me.”

Drawing in a long breath, he yanked on his seat belt and gunned the engine. Time to get himself comfortable in his father’s well-made bed.

CHAPTER THREE

SASHA LEFT MARIAN’S Bonniest Bakery with a vanilla latte in hand and gripped the handlebar of her bicycle. She waited for the road to clear and then steered it across to the other side. After parking her bike against the railings overlooking Cowden Beach, she lifted the lid off her coffee, and a plume of gray steam split the runners and dog walkers dotting the sand.

At 8:00 a.m. she would normally have been cycling through the fairground gates, the excitement of the day ahead running through her blood like oxygen. This morning, raw anxiety washed through her at such a rate she couldn’t help thinking she’d be in danger of crashing her bike the moment she got back in the saddle.

She sipped her coffee and contemplated the last time she’d jogged across the beach. Who needed to run when she cycled everywhere she could? All day and half the night, she scrambled on and off rides, climbed ladders to fix broken overhangs or change lightbulbs. She smiled.

Not to mention the innumerable amount of times she’d jumped on the carousel horses under the guise of accompanying a kid riding solo, while their mother rode with their toddler sibling.

Loving the local kids and wanting to make the park a happy, safe place for them was once again out of reach for the foreseeable future. How would the fear of history repeating itself ever go away if she wasn’t in charge? How could she ascertain suspicious behavior from innocent if Funland was overrun with Kyle’s criminal contacts? If only her family would join in the fight for their ancestral piece of history. How could they stand by and let something that had been in their hands for more than a hundred years slip into such undeserving ones?

Didn’t they want the place made good again? To help her wash away the evil?

“That fairground won’t run itself, you know.”

Sasha quickly swiped at her face and pulled on a smile. “Hey, Marian. What are you doing out here?”

Templeton Cove’s favorite—and scariest—baker stood beside her, holding Sasha’s phone between her thumb and forefinger. “You left this behind. Thought you might need it...and a big ol’ shoulder to cry on.”

“Thanks.” Sasha took the phone. “For the phone. The shoulder will have to wait. No tears today.” She nodded toward the bakery. “You’ll be overrun with angry customers wanting coffee and your famous honeycomb muffins in two seconds flat at this time of the morning.”

Marian waved her hand dismissively. “You’re more important. The girls can cope without me for a while.”

“I was just about to head off.” Sasha pulled her bike from the railing, but Marian pushed it back.

“Sasha Todd, talk to me. Now.” Marian lifted an eyebrow and leaned her ample backside against the railing, pinning Sasha with her unrelenting stare. “I’ve never known you to be so distracted when my George was chatting with you. You know how that husband of mine relies on you young girls to brighten up his aging ego. The man’s heartbroken over there.”

Sasha laughed. “I’ve got things on my mind. Tell him I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to him tomorrow.”

“You think he’s going to listen to me? He’ll want to know what’s going on with you...as do I. Spill. Now.”

Sasha hesitated. If she said out loud what had happened between her and John Jordon last night, that would make the situation real, and part of her was still holding on to the hope that when she got to Funland, John would turn out to be nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

“Well?” Marian crossed her arms. “I’m waiting.”

Sliding her coffee into the bottle holder on her bike, Sasha gripped the railing and stared ahead. “Kyle Jordon’s son turned up last night to take over the running of the fair.”

“What?”

Inhaling a deep breath, Sasha turned. Marian’s face had darkened to a worrying shade of scarlet and her eyes bulged wide open.

“His name’s John.” Sasha sighed. “And he speaks with some stupid posh accent as though he’s a member of the Royal family.”

“What?”

Sasha laughed at the pure disbelief on Marian’s face. “Can’t you say anything else?”

Marian blinked. “Kyle Jordon’s son? Here? In Templeton? I don’t believe it.”

“Well, you’d better believe it. He’s here and, from the little time I’ve spent with him, I’ve worked out he’s dangerous. I’m not sure if he’s ‘Kyle Jordon’ dangerous yet, but he’s dangerous all the same.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did he hurt you? Threaten you? What did he do to make you think he’s dangerous?”

Sasha glanced toward the beach. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

She turned and pushed the hair back from her eyes, considering John Jordon and the unsettling effect he’d had on her mentally, emotionally...physically. She swallowed. “The man has more anger in the tip of his little finger than I’ve got in my entire body, so there’s trouble on the horizon whichever way we look at it.”

“I see.” Marian looked toward the bakery across the road. “Does DI Garrett know he’s here? We should call her. We’ve just gotten rid of one Jordon and another turns up.” She faced Sasha again. “Did you know he had a son?”

She shook her head. “Nope. And he says Freddy didn’t, either. I’ve got no idea what this is going to mean for the fair or Templeton.”

Marian pushed away from the railing. “Well, whatever it means, DI Garrett should know he’s here. I’m going to call her right now.”

When she spun away, Sasha clasped Marian’s arm. “Wait. I want to get an idea of what he intends to do first.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said.” Sasha straightened and pulled her bike upright. “There’s something about him that intrigues me. Something’s just not right. He doesn’t exactly look ecstatic to be here, any more than I am to see him.”

Marian gave an inelegant snort. “How can anyone be right in the head if they’re the product of Kyle Jordon’s bodily fluid? Answer me that.”

Sasha wrinkled her nose. “Seriously? Bodily fluid?”

Marian gave a hoot of laughter and patted Sasha’s cheek. “Be careful and call me as soon as you know anything. DI Garrett should be told what’s going on and she trusts my judgment, as I trust yours. The minute you tell me this man is up to no good, I’m on it.” She brushed her thumb over Sasha’s cheek. “I know what that fairground means to you and what it meant to your granddad. Watch your back, okay?”

Fighting to keep her composure, Sasha covered Marian’s hand with hers and lifted it from her face. She squeezed the older woman’s fingers. “I will. Now get back to the bakery before the inspector turns up because of a riot over honeycomb muffins, let alone anything else.”

Marian smiled despite the lingering concern in her gaze. “I’m going. Just remember where I am.”

Sasha saluted, and Marian hurried across the street. Once she’d disappeared inside the shop, Sasha inhaled a deep breath and drew a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. She opened it and stared at her carefully typed letter to Kyle, offering him every penny she had for the fair. The amount included the money her grandfather bequeathed her from Funland’s sale to Kyle seven years before, plus some savings.

Of course, there was still the glaring problem of the contract clause that gripped and twisted at Sasha’s heart...confused and irritated her mind. Why had her grandfather written in a clause to say that the fair wasn’t ever to be resold to anyone in the Todd family? She stared ahead at the growing numbers of locals and holidaymakers gathering on the sand to enjoy another day of the school holidays.

Why would you do that, Granddad? Why would you keep something from me when you said so many times you wanted it back in the family?

It was a long shot, but she just hoped and prayed her suspicion that with Kyle imprisoned and her grandfather having passed, the clause would be deemed invalid. She tightened her jaw. Every hope was pinned on the money she’d accumulated being enough. She couldn’t allow this clause to cut her dream to a million pieces. Her plan to ask Freddy to give the letter to Kyle when he next visited him had given her something to hold on to. She finally had a decent sum that even Kyle surely wouldn’t outright dismiss.

Now John was here, and it was time to find out what his reaction would be to her offer. Clause or no clause. She slid the paper back into her pocket, straddled her bike and pushed onto the road. It was time to face the music...or maniac.

* * *

IT WAS ONLY eight-thirty when Sasha stowed her bike at the back of the fairground offices. She locked it to the iron bars of a sad, decrepit and very much disused kiddie ride before smoothing her hands over the rumpled cotton of her shorts. Rare self-consciousness overrode her, the same as it had in the bathroom that morning. Cursing, she tidied her shirt and ripped the band from her hair.

She shouldn’t give a crap what John Jordon thought of her, but his gaze was unnerving and...baring. Yesterday, there were times he’d studied her with such intensity, she wanted to glance at her chest to see if her nipple had popped over the vee of her shirt. She couldn’t let him see the way he made her aware of her body whenever she was within two feet of him.

Tipping her head upside down, she scrunched her hair before standing straight and swinging it over her shoulders.

Her long hair was the only thing she had going for her in the way of armor. If Kyle’s son thought she hadn’t seen the way his blue eyes swept back and forth from her hair to her eyes last night, he was a damn fool. Every man she knew was a sucker for her hair. Why, she had no idea, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t use the phenomenon to her advantage.

Everything else about her seemingly brought admirers straight back to earth with a hard bump within a few weeks. Their hair fetish soon cooled when they realized Sasha was more tomboy than girly girl...or else they sensed her discord, her wary apprehension of what might come next. She lifted her chin. One day, she’d meet a man with enough balls to stick around longer than a month or two.

She blew out a shaky breath and swept her gaze over the back of the office. Just remember, you do fine and dandy kicking them out of your bed, instead of the other way around. Your way or no way, remember? She narrowed her eyes as a blush heated her neck. Even though they never put up much of a fight.

Stepping across the short dry grass, the early-morning sun warming the back of her legs, she strode purposefully to the office and pushed open the door. Her heart beat hard, but her determination was on full-power. Steeling herself, she shot her gaze straight to Kyle’s desk, expecting John to be sitting there ready and waiting. The chair was empty.

“God damn it.” She released her pent-up energy in a whoosh of air from her lungs. She planted her hands on her hips. Now what?

The door clicked open behind her and Sasha spun around. Freddy wandered in, his ever-expanding waistline juddering with each step and his shaven head shining with perspiration. He closed the door, his brow furrowed.

Sasha stepped toward him. “You okay, Freddy?”

He turned. “You’re late.”

“Not officially. Officially my hours on Friday are nine to nine, remember?”

He grunted and walked to his desk. “Never known you to take any notice of what time of the day or night it is.” He collapsed into his chair, his gaze wandering the length of her. “You looking for our new boss, by any chance?”

“Not particularly. He asked to see me first thing, that’s all.”

“He’s outside.”

Sasha glanced toward the glass doors. “Right.”

“He’s been here since I came in at seven-thirty. Christ knows what he’s doing out there. He’s walking around with this look on his face. A look that tells me he’s Kyle’s boy through and through.”

She stepped closer to the desk. “And what does that face look like exactly?”

“Like he’s a hard son of a bitch. You wouldn’t think it looking at the pansy way he’s dressed this morning, but I guarantee that bloke out there has a mean streak.” He met her eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

Unease rippled over her skin but Sasha smiled. “Yeah, well, you never scared me and neither did Kyle, so John Jordon has a long way to go to frighten me out of this place.”

She marched to the door.

“You know something, Sasha?”

“What?” She faced him.

“Kyle’s boy turning up like this changes everything.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You think I don’t know that.”

“It changes things with the park, the staff, the patrons...and especially with me. I didn’t work my ass off for Kyle to be pushed around by his damn son.”

Trepidation furled in her stomach, and Sasha slipped her hand from the door handle. Freddy’s eyes were colder than steel, his cheeks flushed red.

She curled her hand into a fist at her side. “He’s trying to push you around?”

“Not yet. But give him time.”

She smiled. Two against one was something to consider, surely? “Then maybe he needs to learn that neither of us will take too kindly to that.”

Freddy stared, his eyes darkening. “I’m not your friend. Never have been. I work for Kyle and he ain’t here no more, so it’s a brand-new playing field. For all of us.”

He shot her a final, loaded glare before picking up the phone and dialing.

Anger burned hot behind her rib cage. What the hell was going on here? One minute she thought the fair was within her grasp and her life was about to change for the better. Now she was facing not one, but two adversaries. Clearly, Freddy intended to lay claim to Funland, too.

She stared at his bowed head. She’d thought she knew Freddy and now it was abundantly clear she didn’t. John Jordon, the other claimant, was an unknown entity entirely.

“Well, I’m glad we both know where we stand.” She turned and shoved open the door.

Drawing in huge gulps of air, she marched past the rides, her gaze darting left and right as she searched for the best and most handsome target on which to vent her anger. She didn’t have to go far.

Her nemesis sat in one of the dozen three-seaters, hovering above the platform of the dreaded Mixer. John looked lost in thought, his stare following the progress of his hand as he wiped it back and forth along the seat beside him. Sasha’s hormones surged to high alert.

When Freddy described Kyle’s son as being “dressed as a pansy” today, Sasha had already guessed John would be wearing a suit, maybe even a tie, too, in order to add a flash of additional authority to their meeting that morning.

She’d been right about the suit at least.

What she hadn’t expected was the way a black jacket and open-necked crisp white shirt looked on him. His dark brown hair, cut short and neat, chiseled jaw and lightly tanned skin only added to the overall confidence that exuded from his every pore.

Tiny flutters of excitement erupted in Sasha’s stomach as she approached the steel steps. Her attraction to the man could be controlled. She’d had years of practice being in the driving seat as far as men were concerned. Her only weakness was the fair and she was no pushover with that, either.

She smiled. So he wanted to run Funland—and he wanted her help to make that happen, did he? He’d given her no idea what his plans were, or if the crime going on behind the scenes would get worse or improve.

Marian’s suggestion of letting the police know John Jordon was in Templeton lingered in Sasha’s conscience even as a worse, naughtier idea flittered through her brain. The only sounds were the seagulls diving to and fro overhead and the rush of passing traffic in the distance. By two o’clock, booming music, screaming and laughter would fill Funland, but right now, it was just her and John Jordon.

On the soft soles of her ballet flats, she climbed the steps and approached the control booth, her grin stretching as wide as the sun above her.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE MACHINE RUMBLED to life and John froze.

What the hell?

Gripping the lap bar, he hauled it up and stood. Sasha Todd gracefully skipped up onto the steel platform beneath the carriages. She was dressed in white shorts that revealed her long, slender legs and a simple red T-shirt. His breath caught. Did she have any idea how stunning she was?

She smiled, mischief glinting in her black eyes. “Sit down, John. Let’s take a ride.”

He blinked. “Are you crazy?”

“What’s the matter? Don’t you like rides?”

He tried and failed to muster some semblance of authority as the machine started to move. “No. Turn this thing off.”

She quirked an eyebrow and curved her fingers over the back of the carriage. “Yet you want to run this place? You can’t do that without knowing the fairground inside out. That includes the rides. Move over, I’m jumping onboard.”

Their eyes locked and once again, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Why the hell did the woman managing the fairground have to be so physically arresting? God, he wanted to write about her. Describe her in words in a vain attempt to let the damn world know how unnervingly beautiful she was.

He lowered into the seat, steadfastly avoiding her gaze. He concentrated on keeping his pride in place and not giving in to the temptation to grip the bar again. The ride picked up speed and the carriage shifted as she hauled herself up and sat down next to him, pulling the lap bar down with her.

The distinct smell of something musky and sexy drifted as she tossed her long hair over her shoulders. The tendrils whispered across his cheek, and John closed his mouth, trapping the inconceivable urge to groan.

She wriggled her behind deeper into the seat and settled back with a sigh. “So...what’s the plan today? Enjoy the fair? Cook the books? Fire me?”

Attraction gave way to irritation, fueled by the nonchalance in her voice. “You do realize this thing is moving, right?”

She shrugged and glanced around before focusing entirely on him. “Sure. Now is as good a time as any to get acquainted, don’t you think?”

John swallowed. Jesus, her eyes are ebony-black, like two huge pieces of jet. He snapped his face forward. “Do you know something?” He slid his arm across the back of the carriage above her shoulders. “If you want to play some stupid game in a bid to annoy me, that’s fine. I’m the one in control here, whether you like it or not.”

“Is that so?”

He faced her. Her eyes blazed with anger, and he glared straight back. “Yes.”

“This isn’t about control. This is about me taking one look at you, sitting on this ride dressed for a wedding, and wondering how you think you’re going to run this place.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Wearing a suit dictates whether I’m capable of running the fairground? Wow, clearly you give me more credit for my clothes than my business acumen.”

She scowled and her cheeks flushed pink. John fought the guilt that knotted his gut.

He hated being snappy with any woman, and with Sasha his hostility didn’t sit well at all. The ride gathered momentum and they wove in and out for a few seconds. “I haven’t got time for this. We’re supposed to be in the office talking things out like adults.”

“Adults? Adults don’t hang up on each other midconversation.”

“Adults don’t talk to their bosses without respect. If you think you can speak to me the way you did last night, you’d better think again.”

She glared. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Oh, I get it. I get it completely. Kyle...”

The ride rumbled up another notch and the carriage shot forward with such force the remainder of his words were obliterated by the slipstream. Holy crap. They sped between the empty carriages at such speed, John had no choice but to slip his free hand onto the bar next to hers. He tightened his fingers along the back of the seat.

He glanced at her and scowled. She stared at his white-knuckled hand, her lips curved into a smug smile. She met his eyes. “All this tension and we’ve only just got going.”

He glared, focusing on her mouth rather than those damn eyes. It soon became clear her mouth was no safer option, but what the hell else was he supposed to look at? His gaze drifted lower—to her breasts—and he yanked his eyes right back up. No. Anywhere lower was out of bounds. “I’m not talking business with you whilst riding a damn fairground monstrosity like this.”

Her smile stretched to a grin. “Whilst? God, you are so British. Do you always speak this way or is it just for Freddy’s and my benefit?”

“Look, I want to know how the hell... Oh, God.” The ride lurched into an abrupt frenzy and took off at a speed to which no child under the age of sixteen should ever be subjected. John gripped the bar and held on for dear life.

Sasha’s scream of laughter bore a hole the size of the damn cove into his ego, but he’d be damned if he let go. Whoosh! They sped in between the carriages, barely missing a fatal head-on collision with each maneuver.

“Relax and enjoy the ride, Mr. Boss Man. It’s fun.” She lifted her hand from the bar and jabbed both arms high in the air. “Woo-hoo!”

“Are you purposely trying to emasculate me?” he yelled over the whizzing and screaming of the ride’s mechanical parts working at a ridiculous and feverish tempo.

“Emasculate you? Me?” She winked. “Never.”

Even as they went in for another sweep at breakneck speed, he couldn’t drag his eyes from hers. A smile tugged traitorously at his lips as adrenaline seeped into his blood. Her eyes were wide with childlike excitement; her bright teeth were straight and white with the sliver of a pink tongue barely showing within. He drank in the sight of her. God, she was something else.

“Cat got your tongue, John?”

A strange clunk rumbled through the mechanics and his burgeoning smile vanished. “What was—”

Her smile dissolved. “Oh, God.”

The excitement in her gaze was replaced with horror. She slapped her hands hard to the bar and held on. Dread dropped like a rock into John’s gut. This did not bode well.

“Here we go.” She gritted her teeth.

“Go? Go where?” John looked ahead.

Another rumble and the ride spun into free fall. Her hands ripped from the bar and she was flung into his side from the force of gravity whizzing around them. She smashed into his rib cage and the breath left his lungs. “Bloody hell.”

Instinctively, he dropped his arm to her shoulders, keeping her flush to his body for safety. He had no idea what he could do to protect her when it was clear an Amazon woman couldn’t have fought the pressure that had spun her slight frame across the seat at forty miles an hour.

“How the hell do we stop this thing?” he yelled.

“I don’t know.” Her jaw was set in consternation.

His eyes widened as he stared at her profile. “You don’t know.”

“I thought—”

“No, Sasha. Thinking was the last thing you did.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She turned.

John stared into her eyes. An apology from her was the last thing he thought he’d hear. Not today, tomorrow or ever. Her hair blew back and forth across her face, her brown-black eyes wide and beautiful.

He grimaced. “So, this isn’t going according to plan, huh?”

Her gaze ran over his face to linger at his mouth. The ridiculousness of their situation gave way to physical awareness. The desire to kiss her filtered through his mind. To show her who was boss and stop this damn power play she had going on. His mouth went dry. What was she doing to him? This was not the plan at all. School was out for the summer and by the time the new semester started he’d be home and back at work where he belonged. Getting wrapped up in a woman, in Sasha, was not an option.

He tore his gaze from hers as they whipped to the other side of the ride once more. “I’ll have to stop it.”

“What? You can’t. How will you get out of the seat, let alone anything else?”

Reluctantly, he slid his arm from her shoulders and attempted to lever an inch or two of space between them. “Try to pull away from me. Just a little so I can stand.”

“Stand?” Her eyes widened to manic proportions. “Are you insane? Stay there. I’m not being held responsible for getting you killed.”

He gritted his teeth and fought hard against the insistent pressure of the pulsating gravity holding them tightly together. His ass lifted about two inches before the ride shot off in another direction, landing him back on the seat with a violent shudder that reverberated up his spinal cord. “Bugger.”

Her totally unfeminine snort and ensuing screech of hysterical laughter trembled through his body. They were well and truly glued to each other. His gut tightened as laughter tickled at the back of his throat. He turned and she looked at him with such delight, resistance was futile.

He tipped his head back and laughed harder and louder than he had in years.

* * *

SASHA COULDN’T DRAG her gaze from the totally masculine sight of his throat, faintly grazed with stubble, as the sound of his deep, toe-curling laugh hit her in the center of the stomach. The taut skin at his neck vibrated and the sensuous, joyous sound was captured on the wind and whisked into her box of memories before she could think to resist. She couldn’t wipe the wide and undoubtedly stupid smile from her face.

He met her eyes. His shone with unshed tears. Bright blue like sapphires in the sun. Christ, what was she thinking? Sapphires in the bloody sun? She whipped her head around. She had to get off this damn ride. “Maybe we should try shouting for Freddy?”

“What?” He smiled.

Damn. He was more handsome than ever when he smiled. She closed her eyes. “Freddy!”

The screech of metal against metal ricocheted around them.

His laughter abruptly stopped and his body—so damn tight to hers, his biceps pushed her shoulder—stiffened. “What was that?”

She opened her eyes and stared ahead. Looking at him was far too dangerous to her game plan of throwing him totally for a loop—not that the plan was going all that well so far. “We’re slowing down.”

“But how? Wait. Did you know this thing would stop eventually?”

She shook her head and nodded toward the control booth. “Look.”

He turned. The skewed image of Freddy showed behind the reinforced glass. “Thank God.”

She screwed one eye shut and grimaced. “Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

He stared for a long moment as the ride slowed before he lifted his arm from her shoulders and looked away. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.”

Realizing she was still pressed up against him without any need, Sasha hurriedly scooted away, leaving a foot-wide gap between them. Her heart raced. Had he just dismissed her? She looked at his hardened profile as he glared ahead at God only knew what.

“Do you know something?” She pulled back her shoulders. “I’m glad I did this. I wanted to see you knocked off-kilter for a while. You’ve no idea what it did to me, having you turn up here yesterday.”

He turned. His eyes were midnight-blue with irritation. “And your response to that when you saw me sitting on this godforsaken ride was to pay me back by giving me whiplash?”

She bit back a smile. “Yes. Now I’m done.”

“You’re...” He shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenward. “She’s done. My God.”

They sat in strained silence as the ride took its merry time grinding to a halt. When it finally stopped, she leaned over and expertly released the mechanism locking the lap bar into place. She shoved it upward, heedless of the fact he still gripped it. When his shoulders audibly clicked with the force of his arms almost leaving their sockets, she grimaced again.

“Sorry.” She jumped from the ride and stormed toward the steps.

“Hey,” Freddy shouted behind her.

God damn it. She turned. “What?”

He lumbered toward her. “What? Is that all you have to say?”

Heat pinched her cheeks. She’d acted recklessly. Anything could’ve happened. She and John could have been stuck on there. The circuit could’ve caught fire. She closed her eyes. “Just leave it, Freddy.”

“What in God’s name were you thinking?”

“She wasn’t thinking, but that’s my problem, not yours.”

Sasha snapped her eyes open. John stood toe-to-toe with Freddy, their eyes locked in silent battle. Her heartbeat pulsed in her temple as the two of them faced off. She abhorred violence and hated anything remotely nasty or tainted. Why did things suddenly feel so much worse than they had since Kyle was locked up? Why had she started a fight with his son instead of playing nice and seeing what happened?

She cleared her throat. “Look, Freddy’s right. I shouldn’t have started the ride with no one controlling it. I was mad, and it was stupid.”

After a few seconds, John nodded, his eyes still on Freddy. “There you go. She’s sorry. Let’s leave it at that. Sasha and I have somewhere to go this morning, so I want you to get the staff organized for opening this afternoon. Okay?”

Sasha stared. Going somewhere? Together? Alone? “Where?”

John glanced at her. “Just a minute.” He turned to Freddy. “Okay?”

Freddy looked from him to Sasha, his suppressed anger showing in the reddening of his cheeks and inflating veins on his bald head. “Okay. I’ll see you when I damn well see you then.”

He flung a final scowl at her and John before stalking back toward the office. Sasha turned. John stared at her, his face a mask of angry determination. She swallowed. Her impetuous nature had once more turned around and bitten her in the ass.

“Well?” She forced her gaze to stay on his. “Where are we going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

He released his crossed arms and closed the space between them. Standing at around six foot two, he towered above her five foot six.

His gaze traveled over her face. “I don’t know anyone in this town. I don’t know about any competition, tension or who the hell Kyle’s enemies are. I need to know who, apart from you, is willing to pay good money to see me gone from Templeton before I’ve even had the chance for a cup of coffee in the local coffee shop. I want to know what I’m dealing with. You’re the person to help me with that.”

Unease rippled through her. “Why do you think I know Kyle’s enemies?”

“You’ve worked here longer than anyone. You must know what he used this place for.”

Revulsion swept a bitter taste into her throat. “I turn a blind eye to all that as much as possible. I hate what Kyle does. Hate it. I work here as manager only.”

“You really expect me to believe that?” He shook his head. “I don’t trust anyone with a connection to my father. That, unfortunately, includes you.”

“How dare you.”

He stared deep into her eyes for a moment before glancing over her head, his jaw tight. Sasha’s stomach knotted with traitorous attraction. God, he looked like a model standing there, all dangerous and brooding....

He narrowed his eyes. “I dare, because it’s beyond me how someone can claim to love something so much, but manage to tolerate a man who stepped on and then abandoned people whenever he wanted.” His eyes were an icy blue. “Who are you, Sasha? That’s what I want to know.”

He turned away, and she gripped his arm. “Wait.”

Anger seemed to burn from his skin, hot enough to scald her fingers through his jacket. Her hand slipped from his arm. A surge of unexpected sympathy rose behind her rib cage, and she quickly shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

He nodded stiffly before storming toward the office. Sasha remained welded to the grass. When he was out of sight, she released her held breath and slumped. Now what? She didn’t want to be alone with him. That had never been part of the bargain. The frustration in his eyes from a moment before seeped into her conscience and lingered there, screaming with warning.

She sensed a pain as deep as hers in John...and that scared her. It took all her energy to fight the demons of her past and keep moving forward each day. She didn’t need the pull of caring about someone else. Especially not Kyle’s son, when it was Kyle who had unwittingly stopped her from bringing closure to her pain. Stopped her from winning a fifteen-year-old battle with Matt Davidson, the man who’d brought an end to her short-lived childhood.

She closed her eyes and her molester’s face taunted her from behind closed lids. In a single summer, his actions had tainted the fair and tarnished what Sasha held dear. Well, sooner or later she’d make it hers and she’d make it a good, clean place for all its future visitors. She’d make it a magical, fun-filled adventure, as it had been before him, before everything he made her do.

Opening her eyes, Sasha exhaled a shaky breath and strode toward the office.

CHAPTER FIVE

SASHA FOLLOWED JOHN into the graveled parking lot outside the Funland gates with her chin high and her decorum well and truly restored. She’d grabbed her bag from the office while John gave a glowering Freddy a few instructions. The lack of information about their intended destination had infuriated her equally as much as a spitting and angry Freddy.

Her gaze wandered and then stuck to John’s back as he marched ahead of her to his car. The temperature had risen and hovered at a pleasant eighty degrees. He’d removed his jacket and his broad, muscular back and strong shoulders shifted rhythmically beneath cotton as he strode forward. The guy’s butt didn’t look any worse in trousers than it did in denim—which initiated another tug on her already fraught nerves. Nerves that seemed constantly pooled in her damn panties.

He stopped beside a metallic blue Mercedes convertible and pointed his keys. Sasha stared in awed fascination as the roof slowly rolled backward into the open trunk with smooth, expensive precision. The cost of his car alone would probably keep her in rent payments for the remainder of the decade. She lifted her chin higher. His wealth wouldn’t intimidate her. No doubt Kyle had kept his son well-cared for over the years. There was no pride in handouts as far as she was concerned.

When he walked to the passenger side rather than the driver’s, her gait faltered. What was he doing? He opened the door and waved toward the seat. Sasha narrowed her eyes. If he thought a show of old-fashioned gallantry would penetrate her immovable anger, he’d better think again.

Yeah? So why are your cheeks hot and your stomach flying into a frenzy?

Forcing her eyes to his, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She slid onto butter-soft leather, and the door closed with a gentle, moneyed clunk. He walked around the hood and slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. “So...” He turned on the ignition and the car purred to life. “Where are we headed first?”

Deciding she needed to up her game, Sasha pulled on her femme-fatale persona and faced him. Whether or not she was letting down the entire female population, she had to at least attempt to get John off his damn sexy winning streak. She was seriously lagging behind and it rankled. Her defense was to always be in the lead as far as sex was concerned. It was vital. If she gave up a modicum of trust, things could get out of her control very quickly.

“Why don’t we hit the town center first?” She smiled softly and looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. “I’m sure we’ll bump into plenty of people I can introduce you to there.”

He hesitated, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Only you’ve got a strange look in your eye.”

Hah! She lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, just concerned. You look as though you’re sitting on something painful.”

Her smile dissolved, and she shot him a glare before slumping back into her seat. “Just drive, will you?”

He threw the car into gear, and they left the parking lot. Sasha glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He wore the biggest smile known to man, yet instead of it annoying her, it made her want to smile, too.

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” He grinned.

Wishing she could see his eyes and have at least a moderate idea of what he was thinking, she blew out a breath. “Meaning?”

“Well, we haven’t stopped arguing or trying to outdo each other since we met.”

“I’m not trying to outdo you. I’m trying to figure you out.”

He glanced at her, one dark eyebrow rising above his sunglasses. “And what conclusions have you jumped to?”

She scowled. “Who says I’ve jumped? Maybe my conclusions are spot-on.”

He faced front. “Care to share them with me?”

Inexplicable nerves knotted her stomach as his smile vanished and his brow furrowed. It was pointless trying to deny how much more attractive she found the laughing, smiling John to the quiet, dangerous one.

She cleared her throat and focused on the road ahead. “I might be wrong, but I get the impression you’re in Templeton under duress.”

Silence.

She pressed on. “Am I right?”

He maneuvered the car through the traffic, his jaw tight.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to provide an answer, Sasha’s palms turned unusually clammy. “So, you’re not going to tell me how you’ve found yourself in this unfortunate situation?”

“I don’t know if it’s unfortunate yet.”

Curiosity sparked like a flint inside her. “I would’ve thought you’d have come to that decision upon our first meeting. I wasn’t exactly welcoming. And then the decidedly chilly phone call...followed by this morning’s fun and games—”

“Where you attempted a full-on assassination.” He glanced at her. “There’s nothing you or anyone else in this town could do that would be worse than what Kyle’s done. Don’t worry about your hostility toward me since I arrived...I’m not.”

A strange sensation skittered through her chest at his clear dismissal of her actions...and her. Cursing the heat that struck her chest and face, she looked to the side at the passing facades of the pretty, pastel-painted Victorian houses turned bed-and-breakfasts. She blinked against the frustration burning her eyes. “Great, well, that’s good. If there’s any chance of this working out, we need to get along.”

“You don’t want this to work out.”

She snapped her head around. “What?”

“Didn’t you say you have an offer for me? For the fair? That means you want me out of here ASAP.”

Sasha glared, wishing for a second time he’d remove his stupid glasses. Moreover, she wished they weren’t driving this fancy bloody car with him in the actual, and metaphorical, driver’s seat. “Yeah, and God willing, you want the same.”

“I don’t know what I want yet, so don’t hold your breath.”

Sasha curled her hands tighter around the straps of her bag in her lap. Her passion for the fair was so deeply seated no one but her grandfather and her best friend, Leah, could possibly understand what John Jordon’s presence did to her.

The man confused her. Gave her zero to work with...or on. She had to figure out a way to break through his ice-cold veneer whenever they talked about Kyle. She’d made him smile a few times, which was one thing, but clearly anything to do with his father sparked a livid anger she’d be hard-pressed to break.

She couldn’t lose this chance to make the fair hers again. Not now. Not after all the careful planning and waiting. She breathed deep. It was always best to tackle a challenge head-on. Not avoid the ugly and sit safe in the pretty. That achieved nothing. If she could figure out how much loyalty he had to Kyle, she’d know how much of a barrier John would erect against selling Funland to her—and how likely he was to find a way out of that godforsaken, and possibly devastating, clause. She swallowed. “I’ve got a question.”

He glanced at her. “Hmm?”

“Why don’t you call Kyle ‘Dad’? Seeing he’s summoned you here and kicked Freddy to the curb, I’m assuming your father trusts you, otherwise why would he—”

“Kyle called me here because he can’t afford to trust anyone else. You and I both know he has enemies all over Templeton and beyond. I’m here because he’s halfway up shit creek without a paddle. Believe me, if he could’ve asked anyone else to ensure all his loose ends were tied up, he would have.”

“But you’re his son. It makes sense he’d—”

“Son?” He eased to a stop at a red light. “He slept with my mother. That’s it.” He whipped his sunglasses from his face and tossed them onto the dash. “He’s not my dad. That’s the first and last time I hope to have to tell you that.”

His glare was a strange, complicated mix of sadness and anger that struck Sasha’s chest like a demolition ball.

“What the hell happened between you two?” she whispered.

His broad chest rose and fell beneath the tight stretch of his shirt as his gaze left hers and wandered over her face, coming to a stop at her mouth. “We’ll never have enough time together for me to tell you what happened between Kyle and me so let’s just concentrate on why we’ve been thrown together like this. Business, Sasha. We talk business only from now on.”

She pursed her lips and turned away from his mesmerizing blue eyes, her body rigid with a nervousness she’d never experienced around his father. The anger emanating from John was in no way normal, yet she didn’t sense any violence in him like she had in Kyle. In John, there was only sadness—and a whole dollop of a man recovering from huge betrayal.

The question was, what the hell did he intend to do about it? And would she get caught in the guaranteed and dangerous cross fire?

* * *

JOHN TRIED AND failed to level his breathing as he pressed hard on the gas and screeched away from the light. Damn Sasha and her incessant questions. Her intelligent, far-too-aware gaze didn’t help, either. Did she ever quit interfering? Or flirting? John inwardly cursed. Flirting? She wasn’t flirting—he damn well wanted her to flirt. That was the crux of his frustration and he was more angry about that than anything Kyle had exposed him to so far.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

God, he didn’t want to shout at Sasha and he certainly didn’t want to frighten her. He loved women. Loved the kids he worked with even more. His father had already seeped into his blood, turning him into someone he’d constantly fought so hard not to be. An angry, bitter man like Kyle.

The busy road caused him to stop and start in a long queue of traffic, bringing his nerves to the point of breaking. A tense silence hung heavy in the air, pressing on his chest and making him want to apologize as they slowed to a stop at a junction. He couldn’t show her a single facet of the personality he left in Oxford. The funny, kind history teacher whom the staff held in high regard because “he has a way with the kids,” or the guy who scribbled away at a Tudor mystery novel in his spare time. John smiled wryly.

God, he’d love to know what she thought of that John Jordon.

He sensed her study of him and turned. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes almost black as she stared with open curiosity. He snapped his eyes to the windshield and his armor slid into place with a resounding clunk inside his head. He’d been a good man, a good teacher and mentor for a long time. He liked that person and intended keeping him under wraps for the entirety of his time in the Cove. More and more people would soon know he was here and wonder why. He would find a way to leave Kyle without a penny of his immoral earnings and then leave.

Forging friendships—he glanced at Sasha—and starting to like people was out of the question. If he kept up the mystery surrounding himself, no one need know how he was venting an anger so deep it was shameful. The less Sasha got to know him, the easier he could leave town guilt-free because she had no idea who he really was and how much John actually cared about Kyle and the life he’d led without his only son.

Exhaling through gritted teeth, John swallowed his pride. One of them had to take the high road in the face-off growing at high velocity between them. “You’re going to have to give me directions to wherever it is you think we should head first.”

“What were you just thinking?”

God damn it. Can’t she keep any thoughts to herself? Lord knows it isn’t that difficult. “Nothing. Where are we going?”

“Fine.”

He stole another look at her as she hitched her elbow on the door and stared toward the amusement arcades lit up like a mini-Vegas beside them.

She sighed theatrically, waved her hand nonchalantly. “You want to play it cool and not afford me the luxury of getting to know you better, we’ll go to Marian’s. Maybe she’ll break you.” She laughed. “Scrap that. I know she’ll break you.”

“First of all, no one is breaking anyone. Second of all, who’s Marian? The idea isn’t morning coffee at someone’s house. I want to discover the hubbub of this supposedly quaint seaside town.”

“Supposedly quaint?”

He edged the car forward in the slow-moving traffic. “I’ll admit, on the surface Templeton Cove looks nice, picturesque, interesting even, but anywhere my father decided to live and work can’t be any of those things once a person scratches the surface.”

She scowled. “Templeton Cove isn’t Kyle’s creation, you know. The people who live here built this place. The decent people. The people who do their utmost to keep it clean, friendly and welcoming for the thousands of visitors who come every year. Not to mention the hundreds of people who live good, honest lives here. Your father was nothing more than a damn blemish on its crystal-blue horizon. And I for one say good bloody riddance to him.”

John smiled. “Bingo. Something we agree on.”

She glared. “We’re not agreed on anything until I know for sure what you want. How can you expect me to believe you’re not just going to pick up the illegal reins now Kyle’s gone? Why else would he pass over Freddy unless he knew you were much more of a suitable candidate for what he had in mind?”

John’s smile slipped. “I’m not here to pick up Kyle’s reins.”

“Then why?” Her eyes were hard, determined.

A horn sounded behind him, and she jumped. John snapped his gaze to the front. An empty gap of at least two car lengths stretched from the hood of his car to the junction. Cursing, he accelerated forward. “Which way?”

“Left.”

He joined the main road leading into town. “So, who’s Marian?”

“I assume the change of subject is your way of telling me to mind my own business?”

“I’m not answering any questions as far as Kyle’s concerned.”

She sniffed. “Fine.”

The next few seconds passed in strained silence before John released a heavy breath. “Is Marian a friend of yours?”

She sighed. “She owns a bakery by the beachfront. We’ll grab a coffee and I’ll introduce you. If you’ve got any strength left in that muscled body of yours once Marian’s finished with you, it’ll be a miracle.”

Muscled body? John savored the thought she’d noticed his body. At least it wasn’t just him imagining the heat between them. He shook his head and smiled. “If you haven’t managed to upset me, I don’t believe for one minute this Marian can be any more of a pain in the butt. I’ll be fine.”

John glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. She shot him a glare before turning to look out the side of the car. Score to him. He’d only driven a few hundred yards when brown-and-white signs along the side of the road indicated the beach, thus leading him in the general direction without the need for further conversation. Pressing on the gas, he concentrated on looking for the bakery, rather than the continual distraction of Sasha’s shapely legs showing beneath the hem of her white shorts.

He didn’t have to look far. A long queue of patrons waited to get inside Marian’s Bonniest Bakery. The shiny blue-and-white awning over the window boasted the owner’s name in bold white letters. As he drew closer, the smell of coffee and sweetness, which could only be the result of jelly doughnuts, brownies and every other sweet treat known to man, teased his nostrils.

“And here we are.” He pulled alongside the curb.

She sighed. “I am so looking forward to a cup of coffee...and this particular introduction.”

She leaned to the side and snapped off her seat belt. The caress of her dark hair brushed his forearm where he held the stick shift. John snatched his arm away, but not before her perfume hit him. The soft, floral and incredibly feminine scent shouldn’t have suited a woman so kick-ass, stubborn and mouthy as her, yet it did...perfectly. When his dick twitched in appreciation, he hurriedly removed his seat belt and yanked the keys from the ignition. “Let’s go.”

He snatched his glasses from the dash, opened the door and slammed it shut. He headed around the hood, but she was already waiting on the sidewalk before he had a chance to open her door. He dropped his outstretched hand to his side.

She stared at the bakery’s facade. “This place is never quiet, so even though I haven’t a clue what you’re expecting to gain from talking to a few people, you’ll have plenty to choose from.” She pointed toward the queue, a wide grin displaying her beautiful teeth. “Let’s wait in line, shall we?”

Still trying to figure out why she appeared to find the whole idea of him stepping inside the bakery so funny, John slipped on his glasses and followed her to the end of the queue. The line moved quickly as people ducked out of the shop and more entered. Four out of the five who came outside carried blue-and-white striped boxes as well as lidded cups of coffee.

“Seems everyone in town missed breakfast.”

“Believe me, it’s hard to leave Marian’s with just the coffee you came in for. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

“I don’t think so. I’m more a pastry-and-pie kind of guy.”

She laughed. “Then you’re a goner whether you like it or not.”

“What do you—”

“See?” She pressed her finger to the window, and John leaned over her shoulder to get a closer look.

Struggling not to inhale the scent of her again, his gaze fell on the trays of golden-brown pastries and breads, crispy sausage rolls and slices of homemade, ridiculously loaded pizza. He swallowed. “They have a gym in town, right?”

She laughed and pulled back, her shoulder bumping the center of his chest. He purposely and cruelly planted his feet solidly on the ground, waiting to see what she would do. The flush of color that rose in her face sent a rush of hot male pride through his veins. He had her trapped between his body and the window. The seconds pulsed between them as he studied her mouth.

He couldn’t deny Sasha had that thing. That special something that was effortlessly sexy in a handful of women—and made men want to dance around them in some strange prehistoric mating ritual.

She reached up and whipped the glasses from his face so fast they scraped painfully across his nose. He winced. “Hey—”

“No fair. You want to get all macho and moody on me, let me see your face.” She pushed the glasses into his chest and shoved him away to stand in front of him, then turned her back to him.

Grinning, he stared at the crown of her beautiful head, took the time to study her amazing mane of jet-black hair that fell almost to her waist. Why did someone come to work at a fairground and leave their hair loose like that? His gaze traveled lower over her butt. Unless of course, she purposely left it that way for his benefit. It had been tied up into a high ponytail when they’d met last night....

“Stop staring at my ass.”

He snapped his gaze up. “I’m not.”

“Windows are reflective.”

He turned to the window and their eyes locked in the glass. Shit. He shrugged. “Better I look and appreciate than don’t, right?”

“Pervert.”

She faced front as the queue moved forward and they stepped inside. Eight booths big enough to comfortably sit six people each lined a window at the far side, with tables scattered throughout, and a huge deli counter covering the breadth of the shop at the back. The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful as bursts of laughter mixed with the chatter from the customers, and shouts and calls came from behind the busy serving area.

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slipped out a ten-pound note. “Why don’t you grab us a table and I’ll do the honors. What are you drinking?”

She tipped her head back and met his eyes. “Cappuccino would be great. Thanks. I’ll be right over there at the front of the counter. I don’t want to miss any of the action.”

He frowned. “What action?”

She wiggled her eyebrows and left the queue. John followed her progress as she sashayed between the tables. She hung the strap of her bag on the back of a pine chair and sat, propping her elbows atop the gingham tablecloth. She intertwined her fingers and rested her chin on them, her dark gaze locked on his, a soft smile playing at her lips.

When his dick woke up again, John snatched his gaze from hers and approached the counter. The young girl serving was busy putting the change in the till from the previous customer. She didn’t bother looking up when she spoke. “Yes, sir, what can I get you?”

“A black coffee and a cappuccino, please.”

“Coming right up.” She slammed the till closed and finally met his eyes. “Oh...wow.” Her cheeks flushed a deep red before she turned and headed for the huge steel coffeemaker behind her.

Frowning, John slipped his glasses into the vee of his shirt.

“Well, hello there. And who might you be.”

The woman who appeared in front of him tossed him a wide grin. She was ample in stature and, judging by the glint in her eye, intended to eat him alive. Straightening his shoulders, he held out his hand. “John Jordon. Nice to meet you.”

Her smile vanished and the glint disappeared as if a storm had blown in and snuffed out a candle. “Well, well, well.”

John glanced over his shoulder toward Sasha as unease rolled up his spine. Her grin widened. He turned back to the woman behind the counter and dropped his offered hand. “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, pushing her rather generous bosom to rest on top of them. “I don’t know. We’ll have to give it a little time before either of us knows, won’t we?”

John raised his hands in surrender. “I just came in for coffee.”

“Where’s Sasha?” She ran her gaze over his chest. “You left her to run that fairground on her own? Or is that good-for-nothing Freddy Campton down there shouting the odds?”

Ah, so this is Marian. He smiled. “Marian, right?”

She didn’t as much as lift the corners of her mouth. “The one and only.”

Seconds passed before John tilted his head in Sasha’s direction, keeping his gaze on Marian’s. “Sasha’s over there. No doubt enjoying the show.”

Marian slid her gaze toward Sasha and the transformation in her demeanor was so ridiculous, John was struck dumb. Her face broke into a wide smile and her eyes lit with adoration before she dropped her arms and hastily wiped them on the towel hanging from the waistband of her apron. She waved at Sasha. “I’ll be right over.” She turned to John and the smile vanished. “Go grab a seat. I’ll bring your coffees over.”

Giving up hope of a friendly exchange, John lifted his shoulders. “Great. Thank you.”

He approached Sasha and stared at her. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m guessing you and Matron Marian are pretty close?”

Sasha laughed. “If she hears you call her that, she’ll slice your balls off quicker than you can draw your next breath.”

“Is that so?”

She grinned. “Yep. You’re in for one hell...” Her gaze drifted to a spot behind him and her eyes lit up like they had lanterns behind them. “Oh, great. More company.”

John spun around. Marian walked toward them carrying their coffees. Beside her was a woman with the reddest hair and greenest eyes he’d ever seen. If he thought Marian was prepared to eat him alive, the careful appraisal of this latest Templeton Cove resident left him no doubt she’d be more than willing to hold him down while Marian executed her chosen sadistic pleasure.

They stopped in front of him, and Marian glared. “Inspector Garrett, let me introduce you to Mr. John Jordon.”

CHAPTER SIX

SASHA SWIPED THE tears of laughter from her eyes and pushed to her feet. Marian was one thing, but leaving John to cope with Inspector Garrett and Marian was too much to expect of any man, animal or superhero. She’d begun the day with plans to make John’s welcome as uncomfortable as possible, but her fiasco on the Mixer and him making her laugh meant unnecessary cruelty was no longer part of the deal.

She stepped away from the table to stand at his side. She smiled. “Inspector Garrett. Nice to see you.”

The inspector dragged her steady gaze from John’s and smiled. “Hi, Sasha. Marian seems keen to introduce me to your friend.”

A sudden and inexplicable need to defend John stole through Sasha. She didn’t want to leave him to the wolves. Something about him intrigued her, interested her to the point she didn’t want that tiny, unnamable facet of his personality quashed on his second day in the Cove.

Her sympathy was unnerving and she swallowed hard against its implication. She waved her hand in what she hoped was a gesture of indifference. “John’s...um... John’s...”

“Why don’t I help you out?” Marian placed their coffees none too gently on the table. “This, Inspector Garrett, is John Jordon—Kyle Jordon’s son and heir.”

Sasha grimaced. The entire bakery descended into silence, barely broken by the clatter of crockery and the occasional cough or snigger. Marian’s booming voice was her trademark, the reason people warmed to her and loved her—but in that moment, Sasha understood why others dreaded her undivided attention. The queue of people turned toward the show, and Sasha’s cheeks burned.

John, on the other hand, appeared nonplussed as he extended his hand to Inspector Garrett. “Nice to meet you, Inspector.”

With her usual cool air, the inspector closed her hand around his. “Are you planning to stay long, Mr. Jordon? Or is this a flying visit?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

Sasha whipped her gaze from one to the other. It was crystal clear as John stood unmoving in front of DI Garrett, his cool gaze locked with hers, he was Kyle’s son. He was no more concerned by the inspector’s perusal of him than Kyle would’ve been.

The inspector stared straight back, her intelligent gaze scrutinizing him. Sasha shifted from one foot to the other. Confrontation was never a good thing for her, regardless of the “don’t mess with me” reputation she liked to project. Her persona had been forced upon her and maybe even branded her—but she also accepted, acknowledged and embraced it as if it were a powerful and protective coat of armor. Nothing and no one made her inferior to anyone or anything else.

Pulling back her shoulders, she shook off the vivid memories that never went away and stepped forward. She cupped her hand around John’s elbow. “We just came in for morning coffee, Inspector. Maybe you’d like to join us?”

Inspector Garrett continued to look at John. “Your father was a known figure around here, Mr. Jordon. Known for the wrong reasons. I hope you’re not going to give me any concerns while you’re here.”

“Am I being tarred with the same brush already? Just because Kyle and I share a name?”

The hairs on Sasha’s neck quivered. The cool tone of his voice and stiff set of his shoulders screamed of Kyle, yet John’s smooth, upper-class accent and undeterred self-confidence showed someone else entirely. Kyle was easily provoked, his temper a tangible and undeniable aspect of his feared potential for violence. Whereas John’s relaxed, immovable stance showed an equitable man, open to reason and discussion. It drew Sasha to him with a force she neither liked nor wanted.

The inspector tilted her chin. “I’m not the kind of cop who jumps to conclusions, Mr. Jordon. That doesn’t mean the rest of the town won’t.”

He glanced over her head toward the spectators, then at Marian and finally at Sasha. She met his gaze and silently pleaded with him to back down. She didn’t want him to fight the inspector but instead, sit with her and prove himself completely unlike Kyle. He briefly closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders. Sasha’s heart picked up speed as she waited.

He faced the inspector and raised his hands in surrender. “Why don’t you join us? Ask me anything you’d like to know. I’ve nothing to hide.”

Marian sniffed. “Hmm.”

Inspector Garrett shook her head. “I’ve no wish to harangue you, Mr. Jordon. Enjoy your coffee. Now I know you’re in town, I hope I’ve no reason to be anything other than civil should we bump into each other.” She turned to Marian and raised an eyebrow. “I hope the same goes for everyone else, too.”

Marian opened her mouth, her cheeks flame-red with indignation. “But—”

“Because the people of Templeton Cove are good people.” The inspector stared at Marian. “We don’t judge without reason.”

Sasha released her held breath. “Thank you, Inspector. I’ll be working with John at the fair. Feel free to drop by anytime.”

Inspector Garrett drew her gaze slowly over John’s face once more. “Thank you, Sasha. I might just do that. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jordon.” She offered her hand.

John shook it with a curt nod. “You, too.”

When Inspector Garrett gripped Marian’s elbow and steered her toward the counter, Sasha mirrored the action by steering John to their table. She only released him once he sat. She slid into the chair opposite him. “Well, there you go.”

He stared at her, his blue eyes dark with irritation. “What?”

“That’s the reaction you’re going to get around Templeton. Surely you didn’t expect any different when you planned this little tour this morning?”

“How often did my father show his face here? Around town?”

His tone was cold, his eyes somber. The question hadn’t been the first she’d expected. Didn’t he want to know where Marian got off treating him like a second-class citizen? Didn’t he want to know about Inspector Garrett? She lifted her shoulders. “Not much. He was either at Funland or off in his car somewhere.”

“What about his business associates?”

Sasha felt a sudden disquiet and glanced toward the inspector, who stood at the counter waiting for her coffee. Marian shot Sasha another glare and she snapped her gaze to John’s. “I don’t know.”

“You must know something.”

“I don’t.”

Silence descended and the tension escalated. After a long moment and no sign of their coffees, Sasha pushed to her feet. “Let’s go. I don’t feel comfortable talking about Kyle here.”

She made for the door, heedless of the stares of Inspector Garrett, Marian and the other pairs of eyes burning holes in her back. She shouldered past the queue of people filing into the bakery, her emotions torn. Why did she have to care about people so damn much? Why did everything come down to wanting people to be happy and enjoying themselves? When would she reach the jaded age of adulthood when she wouldn’t give a crap about anyone but herself?

She shouldn’t have backed up John—he was big enough to handle himself and from what she’d witnessed so far, nothing shook his cool exterior. She’d never know if he fought daily demons as she did, and for that she was grateful. She liked him, and because of that she prayed that once she had gotten the fair from him, he’d disappear as quickly as he had come. He tugged on something she’d thought stolen from her years ago. He tugged on her need for a man to care about her.

Swallowing hard, Sasha drew in a strengthening breath, drawing her protective cloak around her. The warm July sunshine hit her face as she stepped from beneath the shade of the bakery awning and leaned on the hood of John’s Mercedes. Maybe the sight of her butt on his fancy, expensive car might break his cool. He emerged from the bakery and approached her. He didn’t so much as blink to see her leaning on the hood of his car and instead stepped off the curb. He stood directly in front of her and the parked car behind him.

“Why did you leave like that? It would’ve been beneficial for us to face them out in there. Show it’s us running the fair now, not Kyle.”

She stiffened. “Us, John? Is that what you really think?”

“Don’t you?”

His gaze bored into hers. Sasha’s heart beat wildly, and her hands turned clammy. In all the time Kyle had run her and her granddad’s lives, not once had he indicated they were on the same team, in even the smallest of ways. Funland was Kyle’s, from the dirt on the ground to every lightbulb on every ride. Her heart twisted and she looked away. “Don’t say things like that. You and I both know you couldn’t possibly believe it.”

“Why not? Hey...” He touched his finger to her chin, gently turning her face. “Why not?”

Heat assaulted her cheeks as a bolt of God knew what shot through her body on such intimate and gentle contact. What the hell was he doing? Why was he playing her like this? She pushed away from the hood and marched to the passenger side. More important, why the hell was she letting him? She fisted her hands on her hips. “Open the car. I want to get out of here.”

She glanced past him toward the bakery window. She could practically feel the heat coming through the glass as Marian self-combusted inside.

He stared at her for a moment longer before pulling his keys from his pocket. The locks shunted open, and Sasha yanked the door and got inside. She pulled on her seat belt, her hands shaking. He slid in beside her, and the scent of musk and man rose between them, only to be torn away by the gathering breeze.

He turned the ignition. “We need to talk. Properly.”

“We will.” She stared ahead. “Right now I want to work. Funland needs me, John. The sooner you get that, the better.”

* * *

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, Sasha entered the Coast Inn and approached the bar. It was Saturday night and the place was busy with patrons, but not so busy that she felt the need to turn around and leave. As desperate as she was to talk with her best friend alone, Sasha also wanted the cover of human bodies should John or Freddy decide they needed a drink as much as she did. This way she and Leah could make a dive for the back door with a better chance of escaping unnoticed.

“What can I get you?”

She plastered on a smile as the bar’s owner came to stand in front of her. “Hi, Dave. Can I get a glass of pinot gris for me and a merlot for Leah?”

“Sure.” He turned to get the bottle of white out of the fridge. “Haven’t seen you here in a while. You okay?” He filled her glass and placed it on a coaster.

Am I okay? Now, there’s a question. She took a sip of her drink. “I’m great. Busy as always.”

He eyed her carefully as he unscrewed the cap of the merlot. “Are you sure about that? I heard Kyle Jordon’s son turned up.”

She met his eyes for a moment before feigning interest in the black-and-white prints of Templeton Cove adorning the wall to the side of her. “Yep.”

“And?”

She faced him. “We’re working it out. I’m getting to know him and he’s getting to know me.”

He placed Leah’s drink on a second coaster and lifted an eyebrow. “Marian said he’s a good-looking chap and she’s watching him. Do I need to watch him, too?”

Sasha smiled and slumped her shoulders. “No. I’ve got it under control. You can simmer down and tell Marian to do the same the next time you see her, okay?”

Dave winked. “You know we’re only looking out for you.”

“I know.” She lifted the drinks from the bar. “It’s appreciated, but John’s all right...considering.”

“Considering what?”

“Considering I’m still giving him the benefit of the doubt.” She smiled. “If at any point I think the guy needs reminding I’ve got the whole of Templeton looking out for me, I’ll let you know.”

He laughed. “I’m always here. You know that.”

She lifted her glass in a salute before turning and heading purposefully to a table as far away as possible from the small dance floor in one corner and the pool table and dart nook in the other. Despite her bravado with Dave, Sasha’s heart hammered with nerves. John Jordon was far from “all right” as far as her body was concerned.

The man was a walking, talking magnet to her libido and that meant trouble whichever way she looked at it.

She was used to mental and emotional knock backs, used to people pulling her from her intended path, but John Jordon was a different challenge than any she’d faced before. His cool blue stare and bright, sudden smile jolted her. Made her waver, doubt and feel. She cursed. Even now, she wanted to smile because she thought of him.

He was...interesting. That was it. Interesting...and phenomenal to look at.

She sat down and stared into the golden depths of her glass, twirling the stem back and forth with her fingers as the past twenty-four hours played through her mind. Once they’d return to work after leaving Marian’s, it became very clear, very quickly, both she and John had individually made the decision to keep their distance. It had been almost comical how they avoided each other, barely sharing more than a sentence or two for the rest of yesterday and all of today.

Freddy brooded and snorted his way around the fair, casting glares at her, John or anyone else in his line of sight. The atmosphere was stretched to breaking with the three of them biding their time to see who would cut the first inch and let some of the pressure escape.

Well, it won’t be me. Not yet. I want to know what both of my opponents have in mind before I decide what to do next. One wrong move and everything I have planned will crash and burn.

The bar door swung open and Sasha lifted her gaze. Leah, her best friend of the past ten years, came striding toward her, seemingly in time with the drumbeat of the soft rock ballad blasting from the speakers. Her blond, short-cropped hair and dark-rimmed glasses belied her friend’s soft nature. At five-three, new patients could’ve made the mistake of thinking Nurse Dixon a pushover...until she showed them who was boss with a syringe inserted into their bare ass cheek.

On a personal level, Leah was more cocker spaniel than rottweiler, but nobody would know that at Templeton A&E.

Her friend collapsed into the chair opposite Sasha, her brow furrowed and her cheeks flushed pink. “Wine. Fabulous.”

Sasha raised her eyebrow as Leah downed a hefty gulp and set the glass down with a satisfied smile. “Ahh, better. Much better.”

“Good day?” Sasha grinned.

Leah pinned Sasha with a glare, her huge hazel eyes glinting with a trace of potential violence. “Just peachy. I had to sew up a kid whose father decided he didn’t like the way his son was taking up so much of his mother’s time. He thumped him and split his eyebrow wide open to prove his point.”

Sasha’s smile dissolved and she gritted her teeth. “You deserve a medal working in the E.R. I’d be more likely to inflict further injury than fix them up.”

“Yeah, well, they train us to fight the urge to exact justice.” Leah took another gulp of wine. “So, what’s up? I love that we get to have a drink on a Saturday night.” She smiled and shifted forward on her seat. “It’s great you’re actually doing something with your night off rather than working.”

Sasha laughed. “You’re not really the person to tell me off for the hours I work.”

Leah grimaced. “Fair enough. So? What’s going on?”

“On? Or wrong?”

“Ah.”

Sasha inhaled a shaky breath and released it. “I’ve got a new boss.”

“What are you talking about?” Leah frowned. “I thought you were going to give Kyle your offer this week. What happened?”

“His son turned up.”

Leah’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

“Kyle has a son?”

“Yep.”

“Well, what’s he like? Kyle in a younger, uglier form? If that’s possible.”

Sasha sighed. “I wish.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, he’s the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. All dark hair, blue eyes, built like a freaking model and about seven feet tall. He makes me feel...” Sasha shook her head. “Like a girl.”

Leah’s glass halted at her lips and she slowly returned it to the table. “Uh-oh.”

Sasha closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping under the impending doom of any man stripping her off her tough, tomboy persona. “Exactly.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” She opened her eyes. “He’s barely said a word to me since yesterday morning and I’ve no idea what his intentions are. I was so close. So damn close to at least getting Kyle’s attention back on my offer for the fair. Now this happens.”

“What’s his son’s name? Have you told him about the offer?”

Sasha lifted her wine and took a sip. “John. And he knows about the offer. I told him. He also knows Mum hates the place and that I want it.” She stared at her friend. “He asked me why Funland means so much to me. He said it can’t be all about family if Mum wants nothing to do with it.”

Leah’s intense gaze softened with concern. “Your reasons are none of his damn business. All he should be asking about is the money.”

“I know that.”

Leah eased her hand across the table and grasped Sasha’s. She squeezed her fingers. “He doesn’t need to know what happened to you there. Your reasons for wanting Funland have nothing to do with anyone else. You’ve never felt you could even trust your mother to understand what happened and why you want to make it yours, let alone some bloke who’s clearly shaken you up.”

Sasha squeezed Leah’s fingers in return before removing her hand to brush the hair from her face. “Do you think I’m mad?”

“Mad?”

“For wanting Funland. For wanting to make it good again. I know it’s probably completely irrational but, for me, it’s the only way to erase him for good.”

“Hey...” Leah leaned across the table, her gaze intense and full of conviction. “That, my girl, is all that matters. If you owning Funland is the only way for you to deal with what happened to you, so be it. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re wrong. The animal who hurt you was one individual. One bastard who got away with hurting kids and then disappeared off the face of the earth. I believe you can make Funland an amazing place again. Don’t give up, okay?”

Sasha smiled as relief she wasn’t insane shuddered through her. “I’m so glad I’ve got you on my side, you know.”

Leah grinned. “And I’m glad I’ve got you on mine. Between us, we’ve got enough baggage to fill an airport lost-property department, but who cares as long as we’ve got each other’s backs, right?”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha clinked her glass to Leah’s and they each took a sip. She lowered her glass to the table and sighed. “It’s weird. He almost frightens me.”

She frowned. “Who? This John guy?”

Sasha nodded.

“You don’t think he’s dangerous, do you?” Leah’s gaze darkened. “I don’t want you working there if for one minute you think—”

“No. Not in the way you mean. I’ve never...” She swallowed. “I’ve never felt such an instant pull to someone in my life. You know what I’m like with men, what I’ve made myself like with them. He’s...different.” She smiled softly. “I kind of like him.”

Leah raised her eyebrows and leaned back. “Wow.”

“I know. No idea why I should.” Sasha shook her head. “He should be on my hit list, for crying out loud, but there’s something about him. I don’t think he likes Kyle any more than I do. I think he’s hurting, Leah. Really hurting...like me.”

“You mean...”

“I’m not saying he’s been sexually abused. I’m saying he knows hurt, real hurt. He’s got that...thing. That anger, that open wound, and it comes off him in waves.”

For a long moment, Leah said nothing, and Sasha tried not to squirm under her friend’s scrutiny. Eventually, Leah smiled. “I think this guy is here for a reason, but be careful. Just because he stirs something inside you, doesn’t mean he’s not his father.”

Sasha released her held breath as unease quivered up her spine. “I know.” She drained her glass. “Drink up. Tonight we’ll have some fun and come Monday morning, I’ll feel better. I’ll be back to normal and ready to find out for sure what John Jordon’s plans are.”

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