8 Brand-New Romance Authors

If Only…

Tanya Wright

A Deal Before the Altar

Rachael Thomas

Falling for Her Captor

Elisabeth Hobbes

Here Comes the Bridesmaid

Avril Tremayne

The Surgeon’s Christmas Wish

Annie O’Neil

All’s Fair in Lust & War

Amber Page

The Pirate Hunter

Laura Martin

Dressed to Thrill

Bella Frances

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

If Only…

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

Extract

A Deal Before the Altar

Excerpt

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Falling for Her Captor

Excerpt

Author Note

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Epilogue

Here Comes the Bridesmaid

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

Extract

The Surgeon’s Christmas Wish

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

All’s Fair in Lust & War

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

The Pirate Hunter

Introduction

Author Note

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

Dressed to Thrill

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

DEDICATION

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

If Only…

Tanya Wright

“Why didn’t you ever kiss me, Josh?”

Her words came out like a whisper, caressing his skin as he hovered over her.

“I always wanted you to.”

Desire coursed through him at the sound of her admission.

“I haven’t been kissed in years.”

Her voice held a sensual quality, washing over him, weakening his resolve.

“I need to be kissed.”

Her small hand reached up, cupped the side of his face. He found himself leaning into it even as her hand moved up and around his neck. He closed his eyes as her fingers combed through his hair, not realizing until it was too late that she was pulling him closer.

Her soft, tentative lips moved against his, leaving him powerless. He responded to her kiss, and the tiny thread on which his control was hanging snapped in an instant.

Dear Reader

This story began fifteen years ago, long before I was aware of just how it could be used. I was a young teenager, experiencing first love, when my boyfriend was tragically killed in an accident. What followed was nothing short of heartbreak and pain, before I was eventually able to see that life went on regardless.

It was in 2013 that I finally realised my healing process had come to an end. In that moment, on what would have been his thirty-third birthday, I began to ask myself the question every writer asks: What if …? I wondered what life would have been like if only he hadn’t died that day. And so this novel was born.

It is not a biography by any means, but the story of two characters on a journey of grief and healing similar to my own. It was cathartic, writing Micah and Josh’s story. You can watch them grow together as they struggle with the pain of their past and manoeuvre their way through unknown territory and burgeoning new emotions.

Even when I felt it shouldn’t, life went on—the world kept spinning. It wasn’t the pain that defined me, but rather the way I handled it.

I have been writing for many years, but lacked the confidence to pursue my dreams. My first step after finishing my manuscript was to get it out there. Such was my motivation for entering So You Think You Can Write. You can imagine my surprise when I found out that the story so near and dear to my heart had won the public’s vote, awarding me a publishing contract.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And that you walk away inspired and encouraged by Micah’s story.

Tanya

TANYA WRIGHT knew from an early age that she wanted to write, but it wasn’t until this year that she decided to take it more seriously. In January she completed her first manuscript, and in March IF ONLY …, her second, was born. This year marks the fifteenth anniversary of the death of her own real-life Drew. That experience is what inspired her and gave her the courage and drive to write this story.

She wants to write real stories for real people who experience real struggles, and to offer them an escape from the mundane and a little bit of hope and a happily-ever-after.

Tanya is originally from Florida, but after completing her college degree in Boston she decided to stay. She’s close to her family, and their antics are what inspire many traits in her characters. She is in a constant state of creativity: writing, cake-decorating, painting and sewing. She loves serving in her church, where she sings in the worship band.

This is Tanya Wright’s first book for Modern Tempted™ and is also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

To the women in my life …

Mom, my #1 fan. Your strength and perseverance saw me through the toughest moments.

To my sisters, Jess and Shay. Outside of the moments of uncontrollable laughter and borderline insanity that provide me with excellent material you are my best friends and I could not have done any of this without you.

To my grandma for instilling in me the importance of dreaming big and going after those dreams.

To the heroes in my life—the men who set the bar high …

Dad, my anchor; my brothers, Aaron and Brandon, and Kade, my beautiful and amazing nephew.

And to my cousin Mark and my friend Chet for your help, regardless of time of day or the question’s stupidity.

ONE

Wasn’t fire supposed to be fierce, unpredictable or even dangerous? Micah twirled a strand of her flame-colored hair, wondering how she had lost the spark associated with its vibrant strands. Had the flame been extinguished years ago, or had it been a slow, gradual fade?

She wasn’t even sure anymore. It was as if the last ten years had all been a lie. She had gone through the motions of healing, of moving on, only fooling herself into believing she was past it. But this semblance of a life was all a facade. It was obvious to her now. She had only buried the pain, denied its existence.

Until now.

Half a day spent lying in her bed had done nothing to comfort her like it should. She held the teddy bear Drew had given her close to her body, trying to capture any of its comforting magic, but sadly that too was failing to comfort her. On this dreary day in October, it seemed nothing could assuage the pain. It was like a fresh wound all over again.

Her phone signaled an incoming text message. Josh’s name appeared on the screen.

Just wanted to check in on you. Make sure you’re doing ok. Text me back <3

She ignored it, just as she had ignored all the others she had received today. She didn’t want to talk to him yet. As her closest friend, Josh had been her distraction, the one who pulled her from depression and back to the land of the living. She knew he would try to shake her from her reverie and she didn’t want that. Instead she chose to stay lost in her memories for just a little longer.

Throwing her phone aside, Micah decided this pity party needed to be taken up a notch. She rolled out of bed, slipped into a pair of obnoxious but oh-so-comfortable slippers and made her way to the kitchen. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the way, she stopped to take note of her once flawless, porcelain skin, now a ghostly shade of white. She looked hollow and empty. Dark circles surrounded her sad eyes. She was in a pathetic state. The last two months of depression had taken a toll on her. Her recent weight gain and carelessness with her appearance did not help the picture before her, but it was an accurate reflection of what she felt on the inside.

Continuing to the kitchen, she headed straight to the freezer, where a pint of her favorite ice cream was stashed behind bags of frozen vegetables. She had known in advance the ice cream would be needed. Sabina, her roommate, was out running errands and would be gone for a little while longer—just enough time to start a crime-drama marathon while enjoying her frozen vice without judgment.

But based on the disapproving look on Sabina’s face two hours later, judgment was what she received.

“What’s going on?” Sabina’s eyes took in everything, her finger hooking the rim of the empty carton of ice cream, lifting it for further examination. “Please tell me you didn’t eat this entire thing by yourself. And what’s with the pajamas? Did you just get out of bed?”

Micah searched her mind for something to say to defend herself against the barrage of accusations, but she had nothing. She was guilty of all the above.

“You’ve got to snap out of it, Micah. I know you’re hurting right now. But this has got to end, and preferably soon.”

“Well, it won’t be today. How can I not think about him on a day like this?”

“There’s a difference, though. The rest of us are celebrating his life, while you...while you’ve been acting like he just died. It’s been ten years.” Sabina threw her hand up in exasperation. “Come on. We don’t have time to debate this now. You’re in desperate need of a shower and we’re supposed to meet everyone in two hours.”

* * *

The bright city lights, wailing sirens, honking horns, aggressive drivers fighting through traffic, the slight fish smell left over from market—things that others might complain about. But for Micah it all signified one thing—Boston, her home. She loved every single bit of it: every angry Irishman, Italian mobster, historical landmark and, not to be forgotten, blessed lobstah.

Micah and her four friends—Josh, Sabina, Hanna and Jamie—walked the streets of Boston as if they owned the city. Of course, Sabina, a model, probably thought she did. And Hanna probably could in a few years, at the rate she was going. Micah was definitely the odd one out in this successful, good-looking group, but she had put her best foot forward tonight in a worthy attempt to fit in with them.

It was a Friday night and the city was alive despite the dropping temperatures. As they crossed the busy street together, sounds of Boston’s nightlife came out to greet them. Already-drunk college students littered the streets. One girl in particular stood out as she yelled at every passing taxi, “Do you have a breath mint? Does anyone have a freakin’ breath mint?” What the heck? People were just downright crazy!

This wasn’t Micah’s scene, but it was a sacred night, hence the heels, fancy top and false eyelashes she’d been talked into wearing. It was probably the first time she had dressed up since last October. Her feet were already killing her in these shoes. Sabina always had a way of talking her into something she knew she would regret later.

When going out in public with someone as beautiful as her roommate, you had two choices. You could dress up, join her and pray you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, or give up entirely and throw on the yoga pants that had never actually been to a yoga class. Three hundred and sixty-four days of the year Micah chose to give up before she started and donned the yoga pants.

“Gawd, I love this city at night! Why don’t we do this anymore?” Sabina twirled as she walked, arms wide open, head thrown back. She stumbled a little in her four-inch heels on the uneven cobblestone, but Jamie was quick to catch her.

“Because we have jobs and lives and because only college students and creepy old people hit up this part of Boston on a Friday night.”

“If you are going to have any hope of fun tonight, you’re going to have to change that attitude of yours,” Hanna said as she pursed her lips and quirked her eyebrows.

“My attitude? I don’t have an at—” Okay, maybe she did. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t plan on having any fun tonight. So there.” What was she? Five?

“It’s Drew’s night. Fun is a requirement.”

“I never agreed to that rule.” She looked over at Jamie. Although he was Drew’s cousin, they had been more like brothers. She knew out of everyone that he would understand. But in his typical quiet-guy fashion, he shrugged his shoulders, telling her she was on her own.

“C’mon, Micah. Drew lived for stuff like this, so if we’re really going to honor his memory like we have for years, then we need to have fun. You included. This is what he would have wanted and you know it.”

“He would not want a droopy-faced, depressed version of his Micah,” Josh said as he put his arm around her to soften his words. “I know these anniversaries are hard on you, but you’ve made it through nine already. What’s so different about this one? You can do it. I know you can.”

Micah couldn’t refute that. She had done just fine these last ten years. So why was this one so hard on her?

The crisp Boston air sent a chill through her body. She pulled her coat up higher around her neck and buried in closer to Josh, allowing his sheer size to block the cold October winds whipping between the buildings.

“Cold?” Josh asked as he pulled her closer and moved his hand up and down her arm in an effort to warm her. “You care to explain why you ignored all my texts today?”

“Not really.”

“So you don’t deny it?”

“No. I was ignoring you.”

“How much ice cream did you eat today?”

“None of your business.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He kept his arm around her and flashed her one of his smiles.

“I may need to rethink my vice, though. I think I’ve put on five pounds in the last couple months. Even my stretchy pants are starting to feel snug.”

“Now that’s just bad.”

“Shut up. It’s a sensitive subject.”

Josh’s deep laughter rumbled through his chest, but he got the hint and stopped talking about it.

Every sixth of October the five of them went to the same pub in downtown Boston. They would toast to the memory of Drew and talk about favorite memories, but Micah sensed this year would be different. She couldn’t quite figure out what had changed until they sat down around their usual table and ordered a round of drinks. Scanning the faces of her closest friends, she knew then that Sabina had been right. They had moved on while she was still stuck—stuck in her painful memories.

The truth hit her like a ton of bricks. She had been living in denial. It was a comfortable and easy place to live. Never addressing reality. Never addressing the pain. Never allowing herself to truly grieve the loss of her first love—her only love.

Jamie raised his glass. “Here’s to Drew.”

Five glasses lifted in unison as she wondered if they all knew what she had just come to realize. Did they know she hadn’t dealt with her grief? Were they okay with that? She continued to watch them. It was if they were all thinking the same thing: What now?

The guys turned their attention to the game playing on the TVs around them. The girls were playing with their phones. For a moment Micah wondered if this might be the last of the tradition she held so sacred.

Hanna’s phone buzzed. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back.”

Sabina had been whisked away by a group of guys, while Josh had seen some friends at the bar, leaving Jamie and Micah alone. Silence stretched between them. Running her finger across the top of her glass, she wasn’t sure what to say. Her mind was still trying to grasp its latest discovery.

Her mother had taken her to a counselor when the tragedy first happened. The counselor hadn’t said much, just listened while Micah talked through the emotions that were affecting every area of her life. She’d walked away from the session deciding she wouldn’t let the pain control her anymore.

Micah had been certain that her grief could be controlled and normalcy restored. So every year, she allowed herself a period of time to grieve. There was no point in thinking about it or dwelling on it all the time. By limiting herself she was able to ignore the pain until eventually she became numb to it. That was how she had survived.

But as the ten-year anniversary approached, she’d sensed this one would be a more difficult to get through, and allowed herself some extra time. However, she’d failed to anticipate the extent of just how difficult it would be. Thoughts of what her life could have been, what she and Drew might have been doing now.

Micah caught Jamie looking down at his watch. “You have somewhere to be?”

“Actually, yeah. I’ve got a ton of work to do back at the house.” He dragged his hand down his face. He looked physically and emotionally drained.

“On a Friday night?”

“Yeah. On a farm, my job is never ending. Sorry to do this to you, but I really should go.”

“Fine. Go.”

He pressed a quick kiss on her cheek and headed out. Micah shook her head. Jamie was the last one she’d expected to cut out on this ritual. If Jamie could give up on it so easily, then maybe this faithful five wasn’t as indestructible as she had once thought.

The fact that he had bailed on this commitment, this promise they had made, poured anger into her cocktail of raging emotions. Sure, by now they should all have moved on. But show some respect. This was a tradition among friends. Sacred. It was honoring the memory of a friend they all held dear. But now they acted as if Drew didn’t matter to them anymore. Was she the only one who felt this cavernous hole where he’d once existed?

Of course, she had been oblivious to it until recently. Numb to the pain that had festered over time. And just when she had let it out, it was like a snowball, building and building until her grief was out of control. She took a deep swallow of her drink and finished it off, then reached for the ones Hanna and Sabina had left behind.

Years ago, her sadness had seemed like something she could handle with a modicum of ease. So where had she gone wrong? Somewhere along the way, her desire to control the pain had stifled her grieving process. Things that should have been dealt with years ago had been left unaddressed.

Everything was out of hand. She had lost control. Control of her grief, her emotions, her life.

Enough was enough. It had been ten years. Tomorrow it would end. She would make it. Maybe finally addressing the denial and the postponed grief was a good thing. She needed to clear it from her system. She would allow herself one more night of sadness, top it off with a lot of drinking, and tomorrow she would put a stop to this once and for all. No more. Tomorrow she would take her life back.

Her eyes scanned the pub for her other friends. Sabina and Josh were the group’s token flirts. They had captivated the room, their good looks and irresistible charm creating quite a stir. Sabina’s exotic beauty demanded attention everywhere they went.

Josh didn’t have to move. He stood next to the bar and the women flocked all around him like vultures sinking their claws into their prey. Little did they know, Josh was far from being prey. Beware, ladies. Beware.

When the waitress brought the appetizers to the table, Micah ordered another drink. People always said you could drown your sorrows in alcohol, and tonight seemed like a good enough time to try.

Josh came back over to the table. “Where did everyone go?”

“Hanna had to take a call. Sabina is over there, and Jamie left.”

“He left?” Josh appeared to be just as upset as she was.

“Yup.”

“Real cool.” Josh seemed to study her. He had a way of doing that. He could have her figured out in minutes and she hated it. “What’s with you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. There just wasn’t an easy answer. She had a tendency to bottle up her emotions, and tonight it seemed as though the bottle was full and running over.

She envied her friends. They seemed to have their acts together, and were experiencing so much more in life than she was. She hadn’t seen it until now. Everything in her life was safe—her job, her friends. She steered away from new friendships, new relationships, new opportunities. Outside of her comfort zone she was susceptible, vulnerable. Her friends had been experiencing life while she was safe in her comfortable cocoon, far from things that could hurt her.

Now all that she had overlooked or failed to deal with had come back to haunt her. She wanted to feel alive again, not the life of denial she had been living, but like her friends had.

“You should probably slow down on the drinks. I’ve never seen you drink this much. I wouldn’t even know how to handle you if you got drunk.”

Micah looked down at another empty glass. How many had it been? Who was counting, anyway? “Well, you’re about to find out. I cannot be held responsible for my actions tonight.”

“Oh, jeez.”

“Hey, that girl over there keeps checking you out.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, I’ve seen you look at her, too. You should go talk to her.”

“Can’t. I’m talking to you.”

“So I’m the lucky one tonight?”

“Guess so.” His piercing gray eyes were trained on her. Evaluating her. She must have passed. “Wanna play a game?”

“A game?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a game.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s try and read people based off of what they’re drinking.”

She hoped he could read the perplexity on her face. Was he being serious?

“Come on. It will be fun.”

“Okay. You start.”

“Okay, see that guy over there? The one in the red shirt? Watch him. He was just looking at the list of margaritas, but put it away after he noticed the hot bartender. Fifty dollars says he orders whiskey straight.”

“Oh, so now this is turning into a money game? Okay, you’re on.”

Micah watched as the bartender handed the man in the red shirt a shot glass filled with amber liquid. He sat it down in front of him, where it remained untouched.

“Why isn’t he drinking it?”

“He can’t handle it. That’s why he was looking at the margarita list.”

She rolled her eyes. This is dumb.

Josh took a long draw from his beer as a beautiful woman sauntered past their table, flashing him a come-and-get-me smile. Micah sat there with her mouth hanging open at the audacity of the woman. Was Micah really so irrelevant that the woman didn’t consider her to be with Josh? She wasn’t, but still. Seriously? Josh smiled back but moved on. His eyes moved back to the bar, past the man with the untouched shot of whiskey, scanning the other patrons.

“Okay, it’s your turn.”

“No. I’m not any good at this.”

“Okay...see the bombshell at the end of the bar?” Micah’s eyes narrowed as he accentuated the word bombshell. “She’s been nursing that Corona for about half an hour now. She’s alone, looking good and drinking light? I can almost guarantee that she has no intentions of leaving this bar alone tonight. She’ll start throwing them back more heavily once some guy starts buying them for her. Then she’ll pretend she doesn’t want to go anywhere, but if some lucky guy reads the signs right he’ll know that Miss Corona-with-Lime is ready to roll.”

“You are crazy. Do you always do this?” She watched as he shrugged his broad shoulders and nursed his Sam Adams. “What about me? What do my drinks say?”

“Well...your drinks tell me a couple of things. One, the variety of your drinks tells me that you steal people’s drinks and don’t pay for your own. And second, they say you won’t remember any of what I just said, anyway.”

“Well, then...why don’t you go buy one for Miss Corona-with-Lime? She’s already looked over here twice.” She was feeling saucy tonight. Josh noticed. Quirked his eyebrow, and gave her a smile.

“Someone has to keep you from making bad decisions tonight.”

“And you’re volunteering?”

“For now. As soon as you start to drive me nuts, I’m bailing.”

“Good to know I have such a great friend to count on in my time of need.”

“Any time.”

The alcohol was definitely starting to go to her head, making her feel all tingly and disjointed. Josh was starting to look a little hazy as he sat across from her giving her the most puzzling looks. He really was beautiful, reminded her of an iron sculpture in a way—masculine, rough, hard edges, but beautiful nonetheless. Even his eyes were metallic in essence: an odd shade of gray, sometimes taking on blue, sometimes green. Women seemed to love them. She found them piercing and cold. She had always preferred blue eyes, like Drew’s were.

A vivid memory swept over her. She gulped down the last of her drink and signaled for another. Josh looked as if he was about to ditch her. “Don’t leave me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want guys bothering me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. They’ll stay far away from you as long as you keep flashing that evil scowl. I think you are scaring everyone in this place, including me. I just need to get some water, and I have no idea where our waitress has run off to. I will be right back.”

The more she drank, the more she remembered. The more she remembered, the more she drank, an endless cycle of tequila and haunting memories. She and Drew had been high-school sweethearts, planning on forever. She hadn’t just lost her boyfriend that night. She’d lost the love of her life, the kids they would have had, the dream house and the hand that would have held hers as they grew old together. That accident had robbed her of her chance at happiness, stripped her of every dream and desire in one tragic move.

Oh, gawd. She was even starting to annoy herself. This was just pathetic. The tequila wasn’t working. It was only making it worse.

“Micah, you’re not looking so good.”

Well, Josh, you are starting to look really good.

Oh, my! Where did that come from?

Josh’s hand cupped her chin, lifting her face until she looked him in the eye. “How many have you had?”

“That’s irrelevant. Do you know Drew would have been twenty-eight? Can you believe that?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to imagine.”

“It’s like his image has been frozen in time. Forever eighteen.”

“Come on. We need to get you home.”

“I am fine, Josh. I am not drunk yet. I promise.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re wasted, like legit wasted. Can’t believe I didn’t stop you before now. You never drink. What’s gotten into you?” His hand wrapped around her arm, urging her to stand and helping her into her coat.

She didn’t get drunk. She was too much of a lady to act like the common drunken college students who littered this place. Then again, she had consumed a lot. Now that she thought about it, maybe she was drunk, because she could not remember just how many drinks she had had. The room tilted and she was forced to grab Josh for support. Maybe he was right. All she knew was her plan hadn’t worked; she hadn’t drunk enough to forget.

TWO

Josh had taken Micah all the way back to her apartment before realizing she had left her purse and keys at the bar.

“I just miss him so much, Josh.” Micah had been talking like this since they left the pub. This new version of her was getting old fast. Thankfully, this was her first attempt at what he would classify as “escaping the pain.” Although judging by her slurred words on the way home, it hadn’t worked.

She wasn’t in a good state of mind. It was time someone intervened. And as her best friend, it seemed the responsibility fell in his lap. But now wasn’t the time. He’d talk to her tomorrow.

“I know. We all do.”

“But you weren’t going to marry him. I was. You weren’t in love with him. Were you, Josh? I would understand if you were. He was gorgeous.”

Where was this all coming from? She hadn’t talked this way in years. Until recently, she had appeared normal. He’d never once wondered if she was still hung up on Drew. But since this anniversary started looming over her head, she’d become this depressing, weepy mess that everyone was getting tired of quickly.

“No. We were just friends, Micah. I prefer women.”

He would just go with it for now. What else could he do at this point?

“Yeah, he preferred women, too...maybe too much. One time I caught him kissing another girl.”

That was news to Josh. He had always suspected something, but never thought Drew would be stupid enough to cheat on Micah. Josh mentally cursed his dead friend.

“I always thought we would kiss. You know...you and me. Why haven’t you ever kissed me?”

Josh’s head jerked in Micah’s direction, accidentally turning the wheel with him. They both whipped back and forth as he tried to get his truck under control.

“Whoa! I think I’m gonna be sick. Can you not drive so crazy?” She let her head fall back on the headrest and closed her eyes.

What the—? Did she just say what he thought she just said? His eyes kept going back and forth from the road to her.

She sat up again, her eyes big and round and full of sadness. “I just miss him so much, and no one else does. I just can’t stand it anymore.” Micah burst into tears. The mopey drunk had turned into a weepy drunk right in front of his eyes.

This was getting ridiculous. Okay, maybe it was far past that point already. Either way, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with this depressed version of his best friend. And where was this talk about kissing coming from? It all had caught him off guard.

Twelve years ago, when he first met Micah, she was this vibrant ball of fireworks, red hair blazing with the personality to match. After the accident, after they graduated high school, she had disappeared, too caught up in her grief to socialize much. It was understandable. They’d all felt the same way. When college came around, they were thrown together in some of the same courses, and the rest was history. He helped pull her from her despair even though she had never quite returned to her former self.

He turned to peek at her again. Okay, so maybe he was wrong. He hadn’t cured her completely. His eyes briefly took in the tearstained cheeks before he turned his attention back to the road.

He needed to see her restored again. Not just to the way she had been these past ten years, but to the vibrant and feisty person she was before Drew.

It probably didn’t help that she never dated. For a long time he’d thought maybe she was crushing on him, and now after her little confession... That was beside the point. She’s drunk. It’s all nonsense.

He parked the car, thankful that there was a spot close to the building. Micah was a weepy mess, forcing him to help her up the three flights of stairs. She owed him big!

He couldn’t get to his keys, and every time he let go of her she started to fall over. Her body leaned heavily against his, her soft fragrance overwhelming his senses. Ever since she’d made that remark in the truck, he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her. By this point he was just flat-out frustrated. On all levels.

Putting his firefighter training to use, he flung her limp body over his shoulder, reached for his keys and opened the door. Yeah, he deserved a steak dinner after this...at the very least.

Finally getting into his bedroom, he wanted to throw her onto the bed. She was too far gone for it to bother her. She deserved the couch after the way she had been acting lately, driving everyone insane with her late-onset depression, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that to her. She would have a killer hangover in the morning. That was punishment enough for being such a pain in his butt lately.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Sabina’s name on the top of the screen.

“Hey. Did you find her stuff?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it.”

“She’s already passed out at my place, so don’t worry about getting it to her now.”

“Is she going to be okay, Josh?” Sabina’s voice was marked with concern, the same concern he had felt recently.

“I don’t know. I hope so. It might be time for a harsh reality check if she doesn’t get her act together soon.”

“As tough as that sounds, I agree.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Josh had a lot to think about tonight. How did he tell his best friend to quit being depressed? He knew he couldn’t, but there had to be a way to help. Maybe after tonight she would be fine and he would never have to bring it up. At least that was what he was hoping for.

He looked back at her sleeping form as she lay on his bed. He sat down next to her and pulled her feet into his lap. She was wearing these ridiculous strappy heels that looked a little on the freaky side. He was sure they belonged to Sabina. Micah would never purchase something as complicated as these. It took him a moment, but he figured out how to unfasten each buckle and tugged them off her feet. He struggled with her in such a passed-out state, but he finally got her out of her jacket, too. He pulled the covers back and over her, tucking them close to her. He brushed the curls back from her face and took a moment to study her in such a rare, peaceful state.

“Why have you become so intent on holding on to a ghost, Micah? Tell me that. When will you finally be free of him?”

Josh leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Tomorrow would be difficult, forcing her to face some hard truths. He hoped he would not lose his friend because of it. Oh, he prayed it would never come to that.

“Josh?” She sounded so small and fragile when she spoke.

“Yes?”

“Hold me.”

He had always been putty in her hands, would do anything for her. Over the years, he had learned to control his feelings for her, to tamp down the desire he felt. It almost became easy after a while; dating other women helped refocus all of that pent-up energy, leaving him free to be what Micah needed him to be. But he was a man, after all, a red-blooded man, and his control could only withstand so much. Those two little words threatened to unravel years of hard work.

But how could he deny her? He leaned over her while his mind and body battled it out.

Her eyes slowly opened, the full force of her warm brown gaze hitting him hard. Her pink lips parted ever so slightly. She had no idea the seductive power she had over him.

“Why didn’t you ever kiss me, Josh?”

Her words came out like a whisper, caressing his skin as he hovered over her.

“I always wanted you to.” Desire coursed through him at the sound of her admission.

“I haven’t been kissed since Drew. I haven’t even been on a date, really. I don’t count that guy I lost the bet to.” Her voice held a sensual quality, washing over him, weakening his resolve. “I don’t need a man when I have you...but I do need to be kissed.”

There was too much at stake. He couldn’t risk losing her. He couldn’t risk hurting her.

Her small hand reached up, cupped the side of his face. He found himself leaning into it even as her hand moved up and around his neck. He closed his eyes as her fingers combed through his hair, not realizing until it was too late that she was pulling him closer.

Her soft, tentative lips moved against his, leaving him powerless. He responded to her kiss; the tiny thread on which his control was hanging snapped in an instant. Years of restrained passion ignited as he deepened the kiss.

The ferocious intensity of the need he felt building within caused him to rein it in. And as he did, sanity returned. He ended the kiss abruptly, realization dawning on him. Micah’s eyes were wide in shock, her breathing ragged as she lay pinned beneath him. He looked down to find his hand on her breast.

He muttered a curse as he jumped up from the bed and left the room in a hurry. With the offending hand clenched in a fist, he prayed she was too drunk to ever remember what had just happened. It would ruin everything!

* * *

Micah lay there, stunned. The fog suddenly cleared. Time had stopped. Her breathing halted, or maybe she was breathing faster than normal. She couldn’t tell.

She had been vaguely aware of Josh as his large frame hovered over her, his face close to her own. She had seen his tongue as it peeked out ever so slightly and wet his lips. His gaze pinned to her mouth. Micah had acted on instinct, not fully aware of her own actions.

Then, bam!

She wanted to blame it on her vivid imagination or her wasted mind-set. None of this was real, and that kiss...

Oh, that kiss! Her body was still humming from the intensity of that kiss.

No. There was no way her imagination could have come up with a kiss like that. Her rapidly beating heart spoke volumes in and of itself.

She felt so much at the moment: desire, heat and...guilt? Drew’s face plastered at the forefront of her mind. Her stomach turned.

Micah’s head decided it hurt too much to think right now. She longed for sleep and prayed good dreams would come and steal her from reality and the inevitable hangover that she was already dreading. Why did she think tequila had been a good idea in the first place?

Closing her eyes, she buried herself under the covers and let herself fall under the spell slumber provided.

* * *

The smell of fall surrounded her. Micah couldn’t quite define it, but if she could bottle it she would. It was crisp and fresh and automatically brought images of falling leaves and apple picking. And no one did fall the way New England did. The air was just cool enough to require a jacket, but still nice enough that she and her friends could spend the evening outdoors.

Her hair whipped in the wind, and in this moment of sheer contentment, she allowed it. Pulling the tie from her hair, she let it go wild and free. Drew’s beautiful blue eyes lit up as he watched.

“Oh, Micah O’Shea.” His voice had a deep, grizzled quality as he said her name.

“What?”

“You know I love when you let your hair down.” His voice was just above a whisper as he reached out and grasped a piece between his fingers. “The color is breathtaking.”

Her cheeks grew warm and she silently cursed herself for it. Her ivory skin had an awful habit of turning a splotchy shade of crimson at times. She could feel it happening now.

“Do you two always have to make googly eyes at each other like that?” Jamie’s voice broke their little moment like a baseball bat connecting with crystal. That was Jamie.

“You’re just jealous,” Sabina chimed in from the tailgate of Jamie’s pickup truck. That’s what best friends were for—always had one another’s backs.

“Thanks for the birthday dinner, guys. You didn’t have to do that.” Drew leaned back in the grass on his elbows and crossed his legs at the ankles.

“Yeah, right. You’d kick our butts if we didn’t.” Josh threw a football at Drew, forcing him to sit back up in a hurry. They all laughed at the truth of that statement. The six of them did everything together, therefore every birthday was mandatory.

Micah curled into Drew’s side as he settled back in the grass. She loved listening to his laughter rumble deep in his chest every time the guys said something funny. He smelled like fresh laundry and his cologne. She had bought a small bottle of it and put some on the teddy bear he had won for her last year at the fair. She slept with it every night, breathing in his scent. She knew it was pathetic, and would be mortified if anyone ever found out.

The two of them remained that way until the sky grew dark. She loved looking at the stars, but tonight the sky was too cloudy to see anything but a dark midnight-gray sky.

“Is that a star?” He pointed straight up.

“Where? I think you’re seeing things. I can’t see anything.”

“It probably isn’t.” His laugh rumbled beneath her. She felt him kiss the top of her head. He was always doing little things like that, small actions that made her feel precious, loved. His hand gently rubbed back and forth along her back. It was soothing. She could fall asleep here in the grass, in his arms. She could spend forever with him like this.

“I love you,” she murmured into his neck.

“I love you, too.”

They were completely lost in one another. Their friends were still there, not paying any attention to them, just as the two of them were not paying any attention to the others. He lifted her hand from his chest and placed a warm kiss to her palm, cradling it to his cheek. Yes, she could stay like this forever.

The cool night air drifted over them. Everyone had become so quiet that it was easy to hear the leaves rustling around them, the small town below them settling down for the night. It was beautiful. Magical. It was a memory that would forever be imprinted on her mind. Embraced in the arms of the one she loved, surrounded by friends who were always there—yes, a memory to last a lifetime.

She wasn’t sure how long they were there. Time just seemed to stop for the six of them. A tiny droplet hit her forehead. At first, she wondered if it was from the trees above them, but then another followed. The droplets grew in size and intensity, bringing an end to their magical night.

Drew yelled his thanks to everyone as they all dashed to their cars to escape the downpour. Micah ran to Drew’s car. She ducked down into the low seat as he scrambled to the other side.

The October air was already crisp; the added rain only compounded the chill. She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter as Drew fumbled with the heat controls.

“It should warm up quickly.” Drew maneuvered the car back to the road and headed in the direction of her house. She felt guilty that he had to take her all the way back to her house when his was right there, but he had insisted on driving her.

The rain was coming down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see past the windshield. Suddenly she was worried about Drew. “Are you all right driving in this?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He reached out for her hand and gave her a look she knew well. “I could always stay the night, though.”

“Yeah, my parents would love that.”

“It was worth a try.”

He pulled into her driveway and turned off the car. They sat there in silence for a while, neither one wanting to end the night. He still held her hand, pulling her closer as he went in for a kiss over the center console. She loved kissing him. He knew how to kiss, how to use his lips. Of course, she had nothing else to compare to, but she was positive he was one of the best. She didn’t want to consider how he got so good, instead just reveled in the fact that she was the one he was kissing now.

His hand began to roam. She needed to get closer, needed more of him, but the console was in the way. Seriously?

He unzipped her jacket, his hand moving toward the hem of her sweater. It slipped under and his cool hands met her warm flesh. It felt good, too good. Red flags began to wave. Sirens began to sound.

No. Not yet.

“I told you already. I’m not ready. Why must you always push it?”

“I’m sorry. I just figured...”

“What? It’s your birthday, so you can get away with it?”

“No...”

“Save it. Happy birthday, Drew.” She opened the car door. Rain and cold air slapped her in the face. She ran toward the front porch, not looking back. She heard his car start again and the tires peeling out onto the road. She had made him mad, but oh well. He had made her mad, too. This conversation had become too familiar. She didn’t understand why he kept pushing it.

THREE

A continual throb at her temples pounded out a beat any drum line would be proud of. The gentle sway back and forth had her wondering how she had ended up on a boat. Did she even know anyone with a boat?

Slowly, ever so slowly, she attempted to pry her eyes open. The stickiness proved that last night’s choice to layer up the mascara and falsies had been a bad idea.

Micah was too afraid to open her eyes, not wanting to experience the piercing pain the bright morning light would bring.

Drew had visited her in her dreams and it made her feel as if she was seventeen all over again. It was as if the years that had passed had ceased to exist. No death, no pain. She didn’t want to open her eyes and face the inevitable disappointment. But last night she’d made a promise to herself. This was going to stop. She needed to snap out of it.

With a groan, she rolled over and stretched. The fogginess slowly began to dissipate as she opened her eyes, leaving a clear view of...not her room. Gradually, she began to recognize her surroundings. She had helped pick out that mirror. And that dresser, too.

It was Josh’s room.

The smell of tequila and smoke rose up from her clothes and memories of last night came crashing back as thoughts of her dream faded away.

Josh. She had kissed Josh.

The memory of his lips upon hers was permanently engraved in her brain. Who could forget a kiss like that? Whether she was drunk or not, those lips were unforgettable.

How embarrassing! She threw a pillow over her head. This couldn’t be happening. What was she supposed to do? Apologize? Act as if it hadn’t happened? Laugh it off? There had been a lot of alcohol involved. It could easily be swept under the rug.

The smell, coming from the clothes she had worn the night before, turned her stomach. She threw the covers aside and bolted from the bed, making a mad dash to the bathroom. Immediately, she hugged the porcelain bowl, cursing herself for last night’s stupidity.

A soothing hand made circles on her back, easing some of the sickness.

“Good. You’re awake.”

Josh’s voice was a balm to her frazzled state. Her head hurt too much to look up at him.

“Do you want me to get you anything?”

She couldn’t summon the strength to answer.

“Sorry. I can’t stay in here or else I’m going to be pushing you aside so that I can puke. Call me if you need something.”

Minutes later, she finally pulled herself away from the toilet, having dispensed of everything and then some. Desperately needing water, she made her way to the kitchen. Josh had such a nice place for a guy. Of course, she had helped with most of it. He’d wanted the apartment to have a woman’s touch without having to invest in a relationship that came attached to a woman.

As she rounded the corner to the kitchen, Josh came into view. Their gazes locked. An onslaught of images from last night’s impromptu but very passionate kiss returned to the forefront of her mind. Heat rushed from her toes to the top of her head with lightning speed. She could feel the crimson flush as it stretched across her face, down her neck and across her chest.

Micah could see it in his eyes. He was thinking about the kiss, too. She should look away, but she couldn’t. His steel-gray eyes held her captive. She allowed herself to break the eye contact for just a moment, taking in his fire-station tee and the way it left little to the imagination. Her eyes traveled back up to his and he quickly looked away.

He stood behind the black granite countertop making coffee, the delicious-smelling aroma pulling her from her overheated thoughts. Without having to ask, he handed her a cup as well as a bottle of water. He knew her so well.

“Sorry about last night.” She cringed as the words spilled out of her mouth, her voice sounding more like a croak. Sorry seemed like such an inadequate word to cover all her transgressions. She was mortified at the boundaries she had crossed.

She sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around the modern handleless coffee cup, and absorbed its warmth. Sending up a quick but heartfelt prayer, she hoped that her actions from last night had not done any permanent damage to their relationship.

“Don’t mention it.” He was busy with something in the kitchen, she couldn’t tell what from her spot.

Micah tried to make sense of everything. Some fogginess still resided from her drunken haze, clouding her mind. She struggled to separate dream from reality. But regardless, the kiss she’d initiated was bold and clear. Nothing about that was clouded.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Josh snapped at her.

“Like what? I’m not looking at you.”

“Yes, you are. It’s weirding me out. Stop.”

So he was going to avoid the issue at hand. Good. She didn’t want to talk about it, anyway.

Plopping down across from her at the table, he poured half the box of cereal into what appeared to be a small mixing bowl.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. Jeez! You gonna save me any?”

“It’s my cereal. I can eat it all if I want to.”

“You’d do that to your guest?” Her head was pounding and this conversation wasn’t helping. Eating might not be such a good idea, anyway.

“Guest? Um...you left me no choice. You were obliterated last night. If you hadn’t lost your purse, I would have happily taken you to your own place.”

She looked up from her coffee and immediately regretted the quick movement. The room began to spin again. She needed to lie back down, not argue about cereal.

It was his way of avoiding an embarrassing conversation. The cereal was unimportant.

“You’ve got something—” He waved his hand over his cheek.

Puzzled, she waited for him to finish.

“You’ve got—” He reached out. Her body went rigid as his hand touched her cheek. Then he ripped something off her face. “It’s an eyelash from last night.”

After flicking the wayward false eyelashes onto the table, he turned his attention back to his cereal.

She was still locked out of her apartment, so this place would have to do for now, at least until this feeling of being on a rocking ship subsided.

“Josh, I need to lie back down. I don’t feel so good.” Her bare feet shuffled against the old hardwood floors as she made her way back to his room. The smell of last night’s bar still clung to her shirt: the smoke, the booze, the other miscellaneous smells that went along with a pub. “And I’m stealing a T-shirt.”

“Why not? You’ve taken over everything else.”

Slipping out of her clothes, she pulled on a vintage band tee she found in his dresser, relishing in the way the cool cotton felt against her warm skin. She dove under the covers and buried her head in the pillow. The unsettling feeling of being surrounded by Josh washed over her, his scent clawing her senses. She had helped him pick out the fragrance, too. Even in her tequila haze she could easily pull out the notes of bergamot, Douglas fir and citrus. It was him, completely him.

Until now, she had not realized just how much his scent had affected her. Memory of last night’s kiss teased her senses once again. She buried herself deeper, needing more of it, needing more of him.

When had this happened? When had she stopped looking at Josh as a friend or a brother? She was positive this kind of traitorous behavior was punishable by death. One did not simply move on from a deceased boyfriend to his best friend, even if a significant amount of time had passed. And it definitely wasn’t wise to start feeling this kind of desire for a man who thought of you as a sister.

Although that kiss said differently. Sleep claimed her before she was able to analyze and gain answers to the questions that now troubled her.

* * *

Josh had been worried about her last night. Micah tended to bottle her emotions until the contents were so compressed that the explosion that followed was a grand display of red flames and fireworks.

And that was exactly what he got. He just hadn’t expected it to be in the form of an earth-shattering kiss. A huge part of him wanted to smile, to relish in the excitement of finally being able to kiss the one girl who had always been out of his reach. But the moment he allowed that excitement to build, it was swallowed up by betrayal and guilt.

She had been drunk out of her mind. He thought for sure that she wouldn’t remember a thing, but he had been wrong. She remembered all right, judging by the way her face had turned a beautiful shade of pink when she saw him.

It had been a mistake.

The grief she had been experiencing recently was bound to make her do something stupid and out of control. Clearly that was what had happened last night.

But if that had been the result of her depression, enough was enough. He couldn’t stand any more of this. He should have talked with her sooner, done something sooner. But what? What did you tell your best friend who after ten years fell back into mourning the loss of her boyfriend? If there was a self-help book, he would have bought it by now. He hated seeing her unhappy, but she was her own worst enemy. She was the one keeping herself from happiness—real happiness, not the contrived happiness she had been living with for the last decade. She was only fooling herself. She deserved more than this.

And he definitely couldn’t handle this latest development. He was wound too tight.

When she’d walked into the kitchen this morning with her rumpled clothes, her curls going in every direction and a false eyelash stuck to her cheek, everything in him had wanted to continue what they had started the night before.

The moment her eyes met his and he felt the embarrassment she felt, he’d known he was being foolish. It could never, ever happen. He set his mind back on course, but the frustration and tension were too difficult to ignore. Instead of pushing her against the counter and kissing her the way he wanted to, he’d snapped at her and argued over cereal.

Josh shook his head. Apparently, this was how he was going to handle this situation: by being a grouch and pissing her off. Great idea, Josh. Real brilliant.

The image of Micah’s flaming hair spread out on his pillow left him breathless. Add in the fact that she was wearing his T-shirt and he was positive this had to be the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He could feel the desire begin to take form deep in his gut as an intense urge pulled him closer. His hand moved on its own accord, desperate to touch the flames. If he touched would he get burned?

Josh yanked his hand back from her. Of course he would! Last night was proof enough for him. He was definitely playing with fire here.

He turned to leave, having done was he was supposed to and checked on her, making sure she was still breathing.

“Josh?”

Her sleepy voice almost did him in. Standing at the doorway with his back to her, he answered, “Yes?”

“What time is it?”

He found himself turning at the question. She rolled over in the bed and pushed her hair out of her face. He glanced at his watch. “A little after two.”

“Two in the afternoon?” She sat up in the bed, her curls in wild disarray, making her impossibly irresistible. He could not stand to look at her anymore, so he turned back and headed in the direction of the living room.

“Yup. You slept the day away. You want anything to eat? I just ordered a pizza.”

“Sounds good.”

He flipped on the TV, hoping to find something to distract him, but it wasn’t working. Micah helped herself to some water and came to sit next to him on the couch. He was aware of every move she made, every fidget, every sigh.

She wanted to talk. That much was obvious. But what was he supposed to say? In one stupid moment of weakness, he had brought about a whole new world of awkwardness between them. He’d really screwed this one up. Now he couldn’t look at her without seeing her eyes wide in shock and horror, her lips raw from his kiss. The mere task of sitting within two feet of one another on a couch watching television had adopted all sorts of new complications. Ten years of hard work thrown out the window in an instant.

He had to figure out some way to control the damage he had done. Ignoring it, as if it hadn’t happened, could only last so long. She would bring it up eventually. He needed to have a plan in place for when she did.

“So...”

She let the word stretch out, accentuating the resounding discomfort that sat between them.

Well, that didn’t last long. Don’t go there, Mike. Don’t go there.

“That kiss last night...”

She went there.

“And I thought I was the one who had too much to drink! Ha! No one was paying any attention to you. I had no clue you got that handsy when you drank.”

What? He’d only had one drink last night, but he wasn’t about to correct her. It would be so easy to blame it on the alcohol.

“You do always leave the bar with a girl. Never thought I would be added to that never-ending list of hookups.” She laughed again. There was an unmistakable pit in his stomach brought on by guilt.

“Obviously, we both had a little too much to drink. Honest mistake.” Stop talking, Mike. The look he sent her said as much.

“Okay, fine. I’ll drop it. It will be our little secret. Never to be talked about again. No one ever has to know. It will be like it never happened.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t even have to look at her for her to get the point.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Hopefully that would be the last time it was brought up. They had talked about it, gotten it out in the open. Good enough. Right?

She kept fidgeting. She tucked her feet under her and turned in his direction. Every inch of him was aware of every minute move she made. At least he should be grateful she had stopped talking.

“I had the weirdest dream last night...”

Josh released a deep sigh as he continued to flip through the channels, not really seeing what was flashing before him on the screen. He needed to get her home.

“Okay, fine. I won’t tell you about it.”

Now he was making her mad again. He was on a roll.

“No. Tell me.”

“I was just trying to start a conversation. You know I can’t handle awkward silences. Are you in a bad mood or something?”

“No.”

The silence that stretched between them was uncomfortable, and, well, excruciatingly painful. Minutes later she let out a frustrated sigh.

“I need a shower. Do you mind?”

Of course I mind! I don’t need any visuals of you in my shower!

Too late. The visuals were already there.

“Go ahead. Towels are in that small closet in the hall.”

He tried not to map out her movements based on the sounds coming from the bathroom, but no amount of control could stop his mind from picturing the hot water washing over her porcelain skin. The kiss from the night before had set this runaway train in motion. It was impossible to stop it now.

He shook his head to clear the image, but it was only replaced by another when he heard the water shut off. She had to be drying off at this point. How could he have fallen so far as to be envious of a drop of water or even a towel?

Stop now! This was dangerous territory. Frustration built at his obvious lack of self-control when it came to his thoughts concerning Micah. It threatened to boil over as she stepped out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam surrounding her.

She wore nothing but a towel wrapped around her decadent body, tiny droplets of water beaded on her still-damp skin. Half-dressed women had never affected him quite the way Micah did now. The ravenous hunger within him was like nothing he had ever experienced before. The need to kiss and taste the skin where her dripping hair clung to her damp shoulders overwhelmed him.

“Josh?”

The sound of his name snapped him back to his senses. He had momentarily been lost in steam and water droplets, staring at her like a starved and thirsty man. He was neither and she needed to go. Far away from him. And now.

“Seriously? Micah, put some clothes on!” Okay, so maybe that came out a little more forcefully than he had planned. He mentally added jerk to his growing list of attributes: disloyal, guilty, betrayer.

She stomped back into his bedroom, only to return wearing last night’s clothes. Her wet hair left damp spots on the shoulders of her top.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“C’mon, Micah. You don’t have to go. Sabina doesn’t get off work until later.” He really did feel bad for snapping at her.

“I can’t handle being cooped up in this apartment for another second. You’re being all cranky and whatnot. And, well, I don’t have to put up with it.”

She pulled the wet strands of her hair up and secured it with an elastic, put on her shoes and grabbed her coat. “Call me when your cycle is over and we can be friends again.”

Without moving from his place on the couch, he watched as her fleeting figure disappeared. And just like always, she left a gaping Micah-shaped hole in her wake.

* * *

Micah stormed from the apartment building and out into the bright light of day. Ah, she wished she had her purse! Sunglasses would have been nice. Oh, and money. She was not going anywhere without that. Thank God she still had her phone in her back pocket, otherwise this would be a serious disaster. She called Sabina, not really expecting an answer. She never answered while at a photo shoot.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God!” Micah breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I can’t handle Josh for another moment. He’s driving me insane. When will you be done with your shoot?”

“I have a break now. I can come get you if I hurry. Where are you?”

“Outside Josh’s building.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

You could not get anywhere soon in Boston, but at least she now had a way home.

Her eyes scanned the busy street as she pulled her coat up higher on her neck. The chill of October in Boston was seeping in through her jacket. Buildings surrounded her except for one solitary tree forcing its way into a concrete world. Its leaves had started to change, a bright golden-yellow providing a stark contrast amid the dark grays of the city.

She still couldn’t shake what had just happened between her and Josh. Not that she could figure out any of it. At first she had thought the chemistry that exploded between them was mutual, but after the way he was acting, she knew she had imagined that. How stupid could she be? She was far from the kind of girl he was attracted to. He saw her as a sister, for crying out loud! They were best friends! Crossing over that boundary had been a monumental mistake.

She had tried to brush it off as a joke, tried to ease the moment and laugh it off. But he was in such a bad mood she’d needed to get out of there quick. She needed to put some space between them in order to salvage their friendship. Hopefully after a day or two the kiss would be long forgotten and their friendship restored.

After what felt like forever, Sabina’s SUV came into view as she maneuvered her way across lanes to stop outside Josh’s apartment building. Micah quickly jumped into the car so that Sabina wouldn’t be blocking traffic for too long. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been able to come!”

“What happened with Josh?”

“You know...Josh just being Josh.”

“Say no more. Know exactly what you mean. He can be such a pain in the butt.”

After Sabina dropped her off at their apartment, Micah changed and climbed into the comfort of her bed. She rolled over onto something and reached under the covers to find the teddy bear Drew had given her.

In the chaos surrounding the kiss, she had forgotten all about the dream. It had all seemed easier when Drew was still alive. Maybe all these new feelings for Josh were just misdirected emotions and longings. Maybe it was just her heart’s way of searching for Drew and instead finding Josh.

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Happiness had come naturally back then, but it had been a long time since she had felt that way. She wanted it back. Part of her still wanted Drew back. Obviously that was impossible, but last night’s dream had been close.

She swiped her finger across her phone screen and saw a text message from Josh.

I’m such a jerk. Sorry <3

It would be easy to respond, but instead she clicked her phone off.

Micah was exhausted. These last couple months had taken her on an emotional roller coaster, but none of that had prepared her for the last twenty-four hours.

She had been depressed and tired of it. She wanted to finally face the past head-on and put it behind her once and for all. But last night’s kiss coupled with the vivid dream that had brought all these memories back to the surface were all too much to handle.

Drew was an important part of her past. Josh was an important part of her present. Both were intricately woven into the tapestry of her life. But the question that remained was, what about her future?

FOUR

She had dreamed of Drew again, but just as he would lean in to kiss her, the dream would suddenly change.

“Josh.” Even saying his name aloud in the quietness of her room ignited something unfamiliar within her. She had joked about the kiss with him the day before, even going so far to blame it on him. She’d wanted to give the situation some levity, but it was proving to be far more serious than she thought. And Josh was taking up a good portion of her mind.

The two men had taken over her every waking and sleeping thought. She would wake up, perspiration beading on her brow as she shook the images of last night’s dream from her mind.

She was holding firm to the notion that they were connected. If she cleansed herself of one problem, the other would fix itself.

Every year for the last ten years she had allowed herself a short time of grieving. This year was not shaping up to be quite what she had anticipated. This had to stop. She had to get control of this. No more moping. No more sadness. She would rid herself of her past once and for all.

She got out of bed and opened her closet door. Reaching up, she pulled down a bulky, heavy box. It was a box she rarely opened anymore, but had been in her possession for the last ten years. As she lifted the lid, the smell of old things drifted through the air as easily as the sense of nostalgia enveloped her.

Memories. Her memories.

Even as she had every intention of going through the box to put an end to this madness, she found herself desperate to cling to the memories. She had loved him deeply. Something like that could not just be tossed aside.

As she lifted an old photograph, she held it to her chest, wanting to grasp any part of Drew that she could. She couldn’t throw any of this away. Not yet.

Time had seemed to wash out the memories, causing them to fade ever so slightly, but opening this box erased all the damage time had done.

She had forgotten so many things about him. Even the pain of losing him had dimmed. She could no longer remember his voice or the expressions of his face. But her fragmented dreams had brought it all back.

Lovingly, she lifted out his sweatshirt. The deep red color brought a different kind of sadness. She ran her fingers across the white letters stitched on the front—Harvard.

He’d had such dreams, such potential. He might not have ever been accepted into Harvard, but she did not doubt that he would have been successful wherever he ended up.

Putting the sweatshirt aside, she lifted out a stack of photos. Next, she pulled out a stack of letters. Long before text messages and email, handwritten notes and letters had existed, and they were sacred to her. She missed getting them.

Her eyes scanned each one, taking in the way he drew a heart in one fluid stroke of his pen. She had never seen anyone else do it that way. It made him unique.

Josh suddenly came to mind.

Now the man of her past and the man of her present dueled for a place in her heart. But the harsh reality of it was that she would lose this battle no matter what. She would never be able to have either one.

Micah took her time going through the box, reading each letter, staring at each picture, memorizing every detail. Then she put her favorite picture and her favorite letter aside. Everything else went back in the box and the lid back on top.

It was time. She had had her cry, and now it was time to move forward.

She carried the heavy box out to the living room and set it near the door. It was time for it to go. That was the healthy thing to do.

Sabina entered the apartment with her arms full of groceries and almost tripped over the box. She had obviously gone to the market and purchased a load of fresh fruit and vegetables. What really stuck out to Micah, though, were the flashy sequined top, black leather leggings and stilettos Sabina wore.

Sabina’s eyes filled with worry as she took in Micah’s tearstained cheeks and puffy red eyes, but thankfully she said nothing. Micah didn’t want to talk about it just yet.

“You wore that to the market?”

“I ran out of clean clothes.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. What’s wrong with this?” Sabina looked down at her outfit, trying to figure out what was wrong with it and seemingly forgetting she was still holding several bags of food.

“Here, let me help.” Micah relieved her of some of the bags. “And let me inform you what is wrong with your outfit. No one wears sequins to the market, much less Marc Jacobs stilettos.”

“I can. I have always said it is better to be overdressed than underdressed.” Sabina gave Micah’s look a once-over. “Besides, since when did the pajama queen start handing out fashion advice? Have you been sleeping all day again?”

“This isn’t about me. Don’t try to change the subject. Yes, you do always say that. But if you show up wearing a ball gown next week while trying to buy fresh fish, everyone will make fun of you.”

“No, they won’t. Everyone will just start wearing gowns the following week. I am a trendsetter.”

Micah rolled her eyes. A trendsetter, my butt.

“And Mike, the fact that you knew these were Marc Jacobs did not escape my notice. It warms my heart.”

Oh, yay! Just what she always hoped she would be capable of doing—spotting and naming designers at the drop of a hat.

“How did we become friends again?”

* * *

Josh needed to see her. There was this nagging emotion that had been plaguing him. He’d thought it would all go back to normal after a good night’s sleep. That soon this would all be water under the bridge.

She never texted him back. He hadn’t heard from her at all. Out of desperation, he texted Sabina, a rarity in and of itself, to check in on Micah. According to Sabina, she had slept the day away and appeared to have been crying. It was getting worse, not better. But the question was, did he step in to help, or did he give her space?

Maybe space was needed. She needed to work through these unresolved issues with Drew and he needed to get himself under control. Space was a good thing. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

Regardless, they needed to talk, clear the air. Then space could be possible, and at least his mind would be at ease. But as he stood at her doorstep, he realized he probably should have rehearsed what to say beforehand. He’d just have to see how it went.

He lifted his hand and placed three quick knocks on the hardwood door. A few moments later, the knob turned and door opened. Micah stood in front of him, appearing very much like the best friend he knew and loved in her oversize T-shirt and what she called comfy pants, her glasses in place and hair wadded up on top of her head. Her eyes were a little puffy and red, evidence of the tears Sabina had told him about.

She didn’t say anything, just stood in the doorway, looking at him.

“I need to ask you something.” The look she gave him told him it was okay to proceed. “How much do you think a polar bear weighs?”

She gave him a puzzled but knowing look. She knew him too well to know it wasn’t a serious question plaguing his mind. “I don’t know. How much?”

“Enough to break the ice.” It got the response he wanted. Well, almost. It was a smile, even if forced. She moved aside to let him enter.

“I can’t talk right now, Josh.”

“You know, I used to have a pet porcupine.”

“What? What in the world does that have to do with me not wanting to talk?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought we were beginning this conversation with each of us saying things that don’t matter.”

Her smile stretched from ear to ear. It didn’t matter what was going on between them. She could be mad at him and ready to spit fire his way, but he would saunter in and say something charming. What could he say? He had a way about him. It worked every time.

“Okay. I’ll stop.” He threw his hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to check in on you.”

“As you can see, I’m fine.” She extended both of her arms out in an effort to show she was in fact just fine.

“Are you sure about that?”

She didn’t answer. Just sat down on the couch and stared at her hands.

“Micah, I hate seeing you hurt like this.”

“I’m fine. Really. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“I knew you would say that.” That was exactly what he expected from her. “But I’m kind of tired of waiting for the right time to talk to you.”

She looked up with him, her eyes stretched wide. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

“When will be the right time?” Recently his patience had been wearing thin, making him unsure of how to proceed, how to act around her, talk to her. It was all so exasperating. He had to remind himself to continue to be patient with her. She was in a delicate state of mind.

“I don’t know. Maybe never.”

She was frustrated and he knew it by the tone of her voice, the rigidity in her body language, but he wasn’t about to give up on it so easily.

“Well, that doesn’t work for me.” Okay, handling delicate situations wasn’t something that came easily for him. “You have to get over him.”

Her gaze snapped back up at him as if he had taken her by surprise. Did she think he was talking about something else? Was she thinking about the kiss instead?

Her hesitation was clear. He could sense she was searching for a response. He had definitely caught her off guard. Moments passed before she finally spoke.

“You...you say that like it’s an easy thing. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“You know you weren’t the only one to go through this, right, Micah?”

He could see the anger stirring in her eyes, her feisty personality wanting to tell him off.

“No, but my relationship with him was different. My grief is different than yours. I can’t tell you how to handle it any more than you can tell me how to handle mine.”

“I’m not telling you how to grieve. I have kept silent. I have let you handle it your way. I’ve been there as a shoulder to cry on more times than I can count. I knew you needed time. But it has been ten years. You can’t keep this up. What you are experiencing now is way past the point of being unhealthy.”

“Unhealthy?”

“Yeah. You’ve taken grieving to a whole new level, and you were only with the guy for two years. Don’t you think you’ve cried enough tears over him?”

Immediately, he regretted it. He had seen the pain in her eyes just before she turned her face from him. He knew better.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He stood in front of her and reached for her hand, pulling her up toward him. “Come here.”

She came freely, tucking her head under his chin, resting her head on his chest. He knew the moment he pulled her closer that it was a mistake. Her warm body flush against his was wrong on so many levels. He pushed past it. She needed a friend instead of the jerk he had been recently.

She didn’t say a word. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

“Micah, if you keep going the way you’ve been, I fear you’ll be just as dead on the inside as Drew’s body in the grave.”

Still no response.

She felt right in his arms. Like home. He couldn’t lose her. He wanted to keep her safe, right where she was, close to his heart. Keep her safe from the pain of the world and the pain of her past. But he knew he needed to let go and let her do what she needed to do. He needed to support her and encourage her to move on, even if it meant she moved on from him, too. Because when you loved someone, you put their happiness above your own.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” She pulled back from him enough to look up into his face. “Why were we fighting in the first place, anyway? I was a little hungover, in case you forgot. I can’t really remember what happened.”

Relief coursed through him. There was hope. Maybe she wasn’t thinking about the kiss after all.

“I don’t know. I never know why we bother fighting. We both know there’s no point to it. We’re bound for life. It’s inevitable. Nothing will ever come between us. I promise.”

“Good. Because I can’t imagine life without you.” She pulled away from him completely and headed toward the door. “Can you do me a favor?”

She lifted up a worn-out old box and handed it to him. “Will you get rid of this for me?”

“Sure. What is it? Do you want me to donate it or toss it?”

“It’s just some Drew memorabilia. I felt like it was about time I got rid of it.”

He hadn’t been prepared for that. Maybe she was moving on quicker than he had realized. “Really? Are you sure about that?”

“Didn’t you just lecture me on this? Yes, I need it to be gone.”

“Don’t you want to hold onto some of it?” This was a big deal, especially for her.

“I already pulled out my favorites. The rest can go.”

“Okay, but only if you’re sure about it.”

“I am.”

He hadn’t expected a change this quickly. She seemed to be handling it just fine.

“Hey, I have an idea...”

“What?”

“What if we both get a tattoo? You know, like in memory of...”

“You and your tattoos.”

“But I’m serious. It will be fun. Plus, it will be something you have that will always remind you of him, but never take up valuable space in your closet.”

She laughed, and then appeared to be contemplating his suggestion. He waited as she pondered.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Awesome! I’ll call my guy and you think about what you want to get.”

* * *

Micah already knew what she wanted to get. She didn’t need to think too hard on that one. This whole conversation, however, was something else entirely.

She thought he had been talking about the kiss! She had been sitting there mentally preparing herself for the awkward conversation, and he’d thrown her a curveball.

All this time she had thought her friends had considered her annual time of grieving as a minor inconvenience. Sure, she had just come to grips with her own denial of the situation, but she hadn’t realized that Josh had noticed. She’d thought she was in control of it, the way she went about her life in a seemingly healthy manner, only allowing herself one period of time a year to cry. That was normal, right?

So maybe it wasn’t. She had some issues to work through and she would. But never, ever had it crossed her mind that Josh had been aware of it.

Now she found out the truth! Had she always been so clueless? Did all of her friends think the same way Josh did? Did he really see her as someone who had unresolved grief issues? Did he really see her as such an unstable, unhealthy individual?

It was infuriating! All of her hard work over the years had been for nothing. The carefully placed mask had fooled no one but herself.

Argh! She wanted to scream!

FIVE

Micah had been avoiding him for almost a week now. She wouldn’t take his calls and responded to his texts with one-word answers. Finally he just stopped trying to talk to her. Obviously, she had changed her mind after their talk the other day. What happened to “I can’t imagine life without you”?

Had she been serious when she told him she needed space last week? He was so confused. If she wanted space, he would give it to her. But what if she needed a friend more and just didn’t realize it?

Things had been slow lately at work, which at a fire station was a really good thing, except for the fact that it gave him more time to think about Micah and wonder what she was up to. They had been friends forever. Rarely had a day passed in the last several years that they didn’t talk to one another. It was just how their relationship worked. Best friends. Always.

Josh had the day off, so after calling up Jamie, he decided to head up to his place for a long overdue visit to the farm. He knew after Jamie had cut out early the other night that this anniversary had been hard on him, too.

Drew and Jamie had been cousins, but acted more like brothers. He knew it was hard on Jamie, but the man refused to talk about it. Talking about his emotions was just something Jamie would never do, not that Josh would ever force him. Two men talking about their feelings could get real uncomfortable, real fast. But helping him out at the farm for the day would at least show him he cared. That was enough. At least he hoped it would be.

Josh took the longer way around the city to avoid traffic and headed north. Jamie’s family farm was almost an hour outside of the city. Just close enough to enjoy the city, but far enough away to enjoy the country. That’s just how Jamie liked it. None of it appealed much to Josh, though. He preferred the hustle and bustle of Boston. He wouldn’t trade it for anything. But he had to admit, it sure was pretty this time of year.

Jamie’s house was surrounded by heavily wooded areas, all painted in the shades of fall. The trees grew tall, arching over the road Jamie lived on. Micah would have loved taking this drive and seeing all the leaves changing colors. Man, that girl had a way of creeping back into his thoughts.

He shook his head, clearing his mind as he turned down the long driveway to Jamie’s house at the back of the property. The heads of horses and other random farm animals popped over the fences to check out their visitor. The smell smacked him in the face long before he parked the truck and got out.

“How do you handle this smell?”

“It’s nice to see you, too!” Jamie laughed as he came out the front door and stood on the deck. His flannel shirt, torn and dirty, showed he had already put in a lot of work today.

“How are you doing, man?”

“Good. You?”

“Doing all right. No complaints. Thought I’d come help you out today. Get my mind off some stuff.”

“Sure. Could always use some help.”

They fell into an easy rhythm feeding the animals and cleaning out stalls. There wasn’t any reason to talk, but for some reason Josh couldn’t help himself. “Micah was really upset you left early the other night.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Figured it was time we all moved on, anyway.”

“Yeah. We were thinking the same thing.”

“Is she doing okay? Every time any of you bring her up, you sound worried. I haven’t really talked to her in forever. I feel kind of guilty.”

“We’ve all been worried, but then she woke up one morning last week and seemed over it. Now I can’t get her to return my calls.”

Jamie stopped what he was doing and looked at Josh.

“What?” Josh stopped as well and leaned on the pitchfork he was using.

“Is she dating?”

“Don’t know.” His shoulders moved up and down in a careless shrug. “Sabina insinuated that she was going to be setting her up.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Seriously? You gonna go all Dr. Phil on me?” Josh dug the pitchfork back into the hay, this conversation passing the point of ridiculous.

Jamie laughed and went back to work. “Don’t need to. You just told me all I needed to know.”

“What are you talking about?” He stopped again. The horse in the stall next to them peeked over as if curious about Jamie’s response as well. He had been right—when men talked about their feelings, it got awkward.

“You have feelings for Micah.”

“Wha—?” Josh was dumbfounded. “No way.”

Jamie continued his work, moving on to the next stall, while Josh just stood there speechless, the horse nudging him with its nose. Josh ignored the horse, too caught up in Jamie’s words.

“You’re jealous. That is what you are currently feeling, but too dense to realize. Sabina tells you she’s setting Micah up on some dates, and you got jealous.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s all over your face, not to mention the fact that you only come to visit me when something is bothering you.”

“I do not.”

“Stop lying to yourself.”

“I can’t have feelings for Micah.”

“Why not?”

“Because she belongs to Drew. That’s why.”

“She belonged to Drew. Past tense.”

“He may be gone, but one, she is obviously still in love with him and hung up on him. And two, he was one of my best friends. That’s like breaking some kind of bro code.”

Jamie shook his head. “Sounds like a bunch of excuses to me.”

* * *

Micah was on the road to recovery. Finally. She had a plan in place and would have this conquered in no time. First things first. Her job.

She had worked as a nanny since she was in college. It was comfortable. It represented complacency and security, things that no longer had a place in her life. So she quit.

She had a business degree. It was time to put it to use. After a quick call to Hanna, who used her connections, Micah scored a great interview.

Her second part of the plan was to start taking better care of herself. It was time to get rid of the ice cream. No more crying into a tub of chocolate with marshmallow swirl.

She was also in desperate need of a haircut, and maybe even a little update to the wardrobe. Sabina went shopping with her and helped her out. She fought past the urge to reject every suggestion her roommate gave her, but she had to face the truth. The girl was doing something right, and maybe, just maybe, some of that might rub off onto Micah.

It felt good, as though she was recapturing some of her old self little by little.

Micah used her knee to bang on the door of Josh’s apartment. It was Sunday, which meant an afternoon of football and food with her friends. She had spent the last few days avoiding Josh, but it was time to face him. She couldn’t ignore him forever.

The girls were responsible for the food this week and somehow she had gotten saddled with the task of picking it all up. Her arms were heavy-laden with the grocery bags, as she hadn’t wanted to take more than one trip up three flights of stairs.

Jamie answered the door. “Oh, hey! Let me help you with that. Why didn’t you call? I would have come down and grabbed them for you.”

“You know I like to pretend I’m fiercely independent.” He transferred the bags from her arms to his as she shut the apartment door.

Micah entered the living room area and saw Josh sitting on the couch, with his three-year-old niece cuddled up on his lap. She wasn’t prepared for the rush she felt at seeing him again. She had told herself her initial reaction the other night had been completely imagined. After one too many drinks, she had misconstrued an accidental brush of lips and made it in to something more. There was no way she felt anything more than friendly toward Josh. The only emotion she was currently feeling was irritation or frustration or something like that.

Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that.

She took in his hair, purposely tousled in its usual fashion, and the color of his shirt, which made his eyes stand out even more. Everything she had just told herself had been a lie.

You might be a little out of practice, but this is lust, honey. Pure and simple. Now wipe the drool and smile like you mean it.

His face lit up when he saw her enter the room. “Hey.”

Suddenly she didn’t know how to act around him. Smiling was not as easy as it once had been. She now knew what it felt like to have those lips on hers.

Instead, she focused on his niece. She could do this.

“Lily, I didn’t know you were going to be here today.” The little girl turned to her and her face lit up. She jumped off his lap and ran over to Micah. She picked her up and gave her a big bear hug. “Is your mommy here, too?”

“No, Unca Joshie watchin’ me.”

“Oh, well, that’s fun.”

Josh stood up and walked over to her to grab the remaining grocery bag. “Here, let me.”

He tried to take the bag, but Lily wanted her uncle back and lunged toward him. He abandoned the bag and caught her just in time, leaving Micah awkwardly grasping at both the girl and the bag wedged between them.

“Silly girl.” He placed a raspberry on Lily’s cheek before turning his attention back to Micah. Once he had the little girl in check, he grabbed hold of the remaining groceries with his free hand.

His eyes seemed to question her, gauge how she was doing, but she seemed to pass inspection. “What are we having today?”

“All kinds of goodies.” Breathe, Micah. One kiss and suddenly she could no longer function. Apparently the frustration she’d felt had overshadowed this new emotion the other day when he came over. She might need to find something to get angry about again.

“Looking forward to it.”

Micah headed to the kitchen and began to organize everything to make quick work of the food preparation. Josh stood in the kitchen, making it seem much too small all of a sudden. He drew close and peeked over her shoulder to see what all she had.

He was so close she could smell him, feel the heat radiating off his body. Lily’s giggle broke her spell.

“Let’s see what she’s got here, Lily.”

“Ooh! Chips!”

“You want some?” Micah opened the bag and held it out for the little girl. Lily grabbed a handful, which with her tiny chubby fingers meant two. Kind child that she was, she shared with her uncle, feeding a chip to him. He opened wide, pretending he was a monster devouring the chip. She giggled and fed him the other chip, too.

“You’re gonna give Joshie all your chips?”

“He’s hungry monstah.”

“Well, then you need to keep feeding him.” She handed Lily a couple more chips.

“No. You feed him!” Lily, with a big smile on her face, pushed the chips back at Micah. “I scared.”

Scared? Yeah, you and me both, kid! Josh looked at her over Lily’s head, mouth wide open, waiting to be fed a chip. Micah placed the chip in his mouth, her fingertips grazing his lips. Something flared in his eyes, but quickly disappeared. Instead he winked at her as he chomped down on the chip. Monstah, indeed.

“Now get out of here, you two. I have some food to prepare.” She balled up her tingling fingertips before trying to shake the feeling from them. Snap out of it!

Hanna arrived a few minutes later and together they were able to get lunch and snacks going quickly. The game had started already and the boys were watching while the girls remained in the kitchen.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What was that? Come on, ref!”

“Unbelievable!”

The guys were shouting and yelling at the television as if the referees could hear them. The same thing happened every week. It was typical guy behavior during a football game. Josh was on his feet, one arm raised in the air as he accentuated his words to the referees, while the other arm had a giggling Lily in a football hold.

Micah smiled to herself.

“You would think with three of us against the two of them, we wouldn’t have to watch football every Sunday,” Sabina complained as she gnawed on a carrot stick.

“Oh, come on. It’s a tradition we’ve had every season for as long as I can remember,” Hanna defended.

“Yeah, and baseball, basketball and hockey, too.”

“Well, it comes with living in Boston. We love our sports.”

“While we are on the subject of traditions, I think we have too many. We need to reconsider some of them.”

“What’s wrong with traditions?” Micah felt a little offended by Sabina’s comments. They always had fun no matter what they did together. Although, she was sure there would be complaints if they started attending fashion shows and operas.

“No need to get defensive. Jeez! I was only stating my opinion. Don’t worry. I don’t think any of your precious traditions will be messed with.”

“Hey, is the buffalo-chicken dip finished?” Hanna had her arms full of chips to take out to the guys.

“Just about. You can take the veggies and dip, if Sabina would stop eating all of them. Oh, and the pizza bites are ready, too.”

“No wonder I can’t stick to my diet.” Hanna rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you and me both.”

“Oh, I love when you girls are in charge! We get the best football food.”

“How about you guys pick something different than pizza next week?”

“Like what? Calzones? Hey, Josh, we can go to that place around the corner. That chick was really diggin’ me last time.” Jamie stuffed his face with a chip overloaded with buffalo-chicken dip.

“Yeah, right. She was so into me. Even gave me her number.”

“Seriously?” Jamie’s brow furrowed as he sat forward and looked at Josh.

Josh nodded, showing he was participating in the conversation, but the whole time he was playing a staring game with Lily. She sat on his lap, her little hands framing his face, her forehead resting on his. It was the cutest scene, but nothing new to Micah. Josh had always been like this with his nephews and nieces. Unca Joshie was the best.

“Can’t believe it. I thought she was hitting on me! Man, I was really into her, too.”

“You want her number?” Josh ended the staring game, kissing Lily on the nose. She let out another string of giggles.

“No. Not now. I’m no one’s second choice.”

The girls could not help it; they were dying laughing listening to the conversation between the two guys.

“I’m at the top of your list, right, Mike?” Jamie grabbed her hand as she tried to pass him en route to the chair on his left. Instead he pulled her down to sit on the couch between him and Josh. As her thigh brushed up against Josh’s, an electric current sizzled through her.

She held her breath and looked up to see Josh’s eyes upon her. There was nothing in his gaze that said he had felt it, too. This was ludicrous. She felt like such a fool. Of course he didn’t feel the same electricity. She was his best friend. That was all.

She turned her attention back to Jamie. “Yes. You’ve always been my number one.”

Micah leaned forward to grab her drink at the same time that Josh moved, causing them to bump arms.

“Sorry.”

“Go ahead.”

Micah wanted to go and hide somewhere. It was all so weird between them. Why couldn’t she act normal around him? Why was she suddenly bumbling and clumsy in his presence? And she followed each with a round of awkward apologies. Surely everyone noticed the tension and weirdness happening so blatantly in front of them.

“Josh, what kind do you want?” Sabina held up two different types of beer for him to see.

“That one.” He pointed to the one on the right. “And can you slice up one of those green lemons and stick it in the top?”

They all broke out in laughter, but Sabina rolled her eyes. It was a long-running joke with them. Seemed like forever ago, Sabina had made one of her silly comments about green lemons and no one had let her live it down since. You mean limes, Sabina? Josh couldn’t help but be the one to point it out while the rest of them were snickering, leaving her clueless.

“Will you guys ever let that one go?”

“No.” Josh came to get his own beer, because after that Sabina’s generosity had run out. “You know I can’t help teasing you about that one.”

“Josh, one day you are going to say something stupid and I am going to have so much fun making fun of you.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“No. I will.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would, but I’m saying that I seriously doubt I will say anything that stupid.”

“Oh, leave her be.”

“What the—!” Josh bolted upright, causing the other four to turn their attention back to the television, and Lily giggled as he held her sideways under his arm like a football. Their team intercepted the ball and headed toward the red zone. All of them were on their feet, cheering the player on.

“Go! Go! Go!”

Then suddenly, ten yards from the end zone, the screen went black.

SIX

“I can’t believe your television broke!”

“Let’s not talk about it.” Josh massaged his temples, hoping to alleviate some of the building pressure.

He couldn’t believe it. His freaking television had gone out right in the middle of the game. He’d missed the biggest play of the game because of that. He was still worked up over it.

He took his sports seriously. Most people from Boston did. You were asking for trouble if you came between a man and his sports, and that’s exactly what his beloved big screen had done. What was he going to do about it?

Josh nursed his Red Brick brew, trying to not let it get to him. He would worry about it later. Micah, however, was a whole different situation. What was with the looks? It had taken everything in him to stay seated when she first walked in. The look she’d given him set him on fire, pushing every one of his self-imposed limitations to the brink.

“What’s the score? I can’t see it from here.”

“I can’t see, either, but I think we are winning still.”

All five of them had ditched the apartment and sought out the nearest sports bar after Lily’s mother came and picked her up. Loud, raucous patrons filled the space, but somehow they’d been lucky enough to find a table still within view of the television screens.

“You would know if we were losing. The whole bar would be yelling at the TVs.”

“You’re so right.”

The waitress walked over to their table and set a fresh one down in front of him. He hadn’t ordered it, nor was he finished with his first one.

“Thought you might want a refill,” she said in a breathy voice.

Seriously? “Uh...thanks.”

The waitress placed her hand on his shoulder. “No problem.” She finally looked at the other occupants of the table. “Can I get anyone else anything?”

“I’d like a refill on my drink, please.” Micah’s snappy tone caused him to turn in her direction. She sat diagonally from him in the booth, for which he was grateful. If she were any closer, he would be coming up with lame excuses to touch her.

Micah gave the blonde waitress a once-over, clearly not liking what she saw. He had to stifle a laugh. The waitress returned with her refill and sent a big pageant grin his way before walking away again.

“Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.” Hanna poked him in the arm, accentuating each word. His four friends exchanged looks with each other.

“What?” He knew all about the impending lecture that he was about to endure, but feigned innocence, anyway.

“You know exactly what we are talking about.” Jamie leaned back in the booth, both arms up and clasped behind his head. “You do it every time.”

“Do what?” He couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face.

“Lose the innocent act.” Hanna jabbed an accusing finger in his direction.

“You know full well what you are guilty of, Joshua Taylor. We like this place and we won’t let you ruin another one for us.” They easily saw through Sabina. She didn’t care about the place. She just hated when the attention wasn’t focused on her. She preferred being the center of attention, and he loved messing with that. It had always been a source of contention between them, but neither of them would ever fess up to it.

“I do not ruin it for you.” He took another long draw from his beer.

“Yes, you do!” Sabina sat forward in her seat.

“We like this place,” Hanna pointed out.

“Well, other than that waitress.” Josh’s attention was immediately focused on Micah the moment the words slipped from her mouth. She’s jealous. He could sense her irritation and had to bite back the grin that revealed way too much concerning just how that made him feel.

“You know...” Hanna said, bringing Josh back into the conversation. “If you go out with that waitress, it won’t last. But her job here will and then we’ll be forced to cross this place off our list, too.”

He shook his head at the nonsense his four friends were spouting. They were too much.

“First of all, I’m not going to ask her out. And secondly, you guys act like this is a common occurrence. It’s only happened a couple of times.”

“A couple of times? Why are you suddenly being so modest?”

No one had ever accused him of being modest.

His friends all laughed in unison. So there was some truth to it. So what? He couldn’t help the fact that wherever they went, bartenders, waitresses, hostesses would hit on him. On occasion he asked them out. What was the harm in that? He couldn’t be blamed if they all turned out a little crazy.

“She’s not even that cute.” Jamie leaned back in his seat.

“Yeah, she’s not worth it, Josh.” Sabina said. “Fight the temptation and just say no.”

“C’mon. Drop it already. I’m trying to watch a game here. I won’t be asking her out. Rest assured. Your pub is safe.”

“Yay! Thanks, Josh!”

They all laughed again.

* * *

After the game, Micah mentally kicked herself for leaving her stuff at Josh’s apartment, including her car. When everyone else left from the pub, she was forced to head back to Josh’s place. Alone. With him.

The tension in the air was palpable.

Well, to her it was. He was acting completely normal as he threw his keys on the counter and went in search of a trash bag from the kitchen.

Chips dropped by a three-year-old—and Jamie—still littered the floor near the couches. Half-empty drinks covered the coffee table. They had left in a hurry and hadn’t bothered to clean any of it up.

She might as well help while she was here. It wouldn’t be nice to just leave it for him to do alone. She sat her bag back down and grabbed a couple of empty cups and reached for the trash bag.

“You don’t have to do this, Mike.”

Why didn’t it ever bother her when he called her that? She had snapped at Jamie for it earlier, and was constantly on Sabina’s case about it, but every time the name slipped from his lips it sounded more like an endearment than a tease.

“I know, but let me.”

“Fine. I’m not about to argue with you.” In one swipe of his arm, he cleared everything off the coffee table and into the trash bag. “So we didn’t get much of a chance to talk today.”

That’s because I’ve been avoiding you.

“How have you been? Has it been getting any easier?”

He meant the Drew issue, but she was more concerned with the issue at hand. Which had more to do with her fingers dying to trace the lines of the tattoo on his forearm. Focus.

“Yeah. It’s been getting better. I have a plan in place and should have this whole thing settled in no time.”

He stopped what he was doing, rising to his full six feet. His broad shoulders dominated the space, making him impossible to ignore. His dark eyebrow arched and the side of his mouth lifted in a half smile, the very same smile that left a good third of the women in Boston weak in the knees. Man, she was going to have to add her name to that list! “A plan?”

“Yes. I have it all worked out.”

“Do you really think that’s the best way to approach this?”

“Why not?” She shrugged her shoulders and got back to work.

“How does a plan help you control the dreams?”

She snapped to attention. “How do you know about the dreams?” She hadn’t told him anything about them.

“Sabina.”

A noise closely resembling a growl escaped from her before she could stop it. Sabina needed to mind her own business. Thank God she hadn’t spilled everything about the dreams. How mortifying would that have been?

“She’s worried about you, Mike.”

“I really wish everyone would stop worrying about me. And talking about me. Mind your own business.”

She carried the empty trays to the kitchen, and as she passed Josh, he jumped out of the way. Normally she wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But since the other night, she’d found herself analyzing every move, every look, everything. And that quick leap to avoid touching her as she passed didn’t need much dissecting. It wasn’t a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

The slight drop in her shoulders couldn’t be helped. Giving herself a mental shake, she made quick work of cleaning the serving trays.

* * *

He was scared to death. Like sweaty-palms, ragged-breaths and pounding-heart scared. Being alone with Micah left him terrified that he would once again do something to royally screw up their friendship. Things had taken a nosedive since the night he’d lost control and had her pinned underneath him on his bed.

She wasn’t the same. The phone calls and text messages were decreasing and the space between them increasing. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

And the way she kept looking at him—it was really throwing him for a loop. He was aware of the effect he had on women. He could see the signals long before they were even aware they were sending them. Micah had that look in her eye and he couldn’t do a thing about it.

First, she was Drew’s girl. Second, regardless of whatever plan she had in place, she was still in love with the guy and far from being over him. And third, she was his best friend, and that meant more to him than anything else in this world. Nothing was worth ruining that for.

He was a trained firefighter. He went head-to-head with death all the time. He could handle being in a room with her. It was just another fire he had to get under control. No big deal.

Just avoid touching her, brushing up against her, standing within two feet of her and looking at her.

Yeah, no big deal at all.

He had upset her when he brought up the dreams. He shouldn’t have said anything. It really wasn’t any of his business.

A week ago, they hadn’t had any secrets between them. At least none that he knew about. She told him everything. It just further proved his point—that kiss had already done damage to their friendship, and he couldn’t risk any more.

“Have you given the tattoo any more thought?” he called out as she placed the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Yes. How serious are you about that, anyway?”

“I’m always up for some new ink. What about you? Have you changed your mind?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it...”

“And?”

“I think I know what I want to get if I decide to do it.”

Suddenly images of a tattoo on her flawless skin came to mind. Why exactly had he brought up this subject?

“Oh, okay. So if we do it, what are you going to get done?”

“Well, when I was going through those letters from Drew the other day I noticed something. He always signed his letter with a heart. Do you remember ever seeing it?”

“Me? No. He didn’t sign his letters to me with hearts. Or even write me letters. Now that I think about it, I’m kind of upset by that. I feel a little unloved.”

“Ha. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.” She patted him on the knee. “Anyway...it was a unique heart. He did it in one stroke and looped the bottom where it came to a point.”

“Okay, so you want to get this heart as a tattoo?”

“Yes. I want it to be something small that won’t hurt me too much.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby about it.”

She swatted at him, the palm of her hand hitting him in the middle of his chest. “I’m not. Plus, I want something that is personal to me and isn’t so obvious to other people, like having his name engraved on my body.”

Micah didn’t move her hand. He looked down first at her hand, which rested over his racing heart, then up to find her eyes on him. How had he let her get so close?

Desire swept through his veins, forcing every cell in his body to zone in on the small, delicate hand that held him spellbound. She began to move it. He inhaled sharply and held his breath. Her hand made a torturous and slow glide from his chest and over his abdominal muscles as they contracted underneath her hot touch.

Slowly, she broke the moment as she pulled her hand back, formed a fist and rested it across her waist. He could hear her inhale as she took a deep breath. “So...when are we going to do this? Obviously, I’m free since I quit my job.”

“Oh, that’s right. How about later this week?”

“It’s a date.”

* * *

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Micah was so mad at herself. For years she had lived in blissful ignorance. Denial was a wonderful thing. Or it had been.

Now it was just bothersome and made her angry.

She had this plan in place, a set of rules to follow to finally put Drew’s memory to rest. He was no longer allowed to dominate her mind. Which was all well and good, but somewhere along the way Drew went out and Josh came in.

And if she wasn’t thinking about Josh, then she was thinking about Drew.

It was infuriating.

And Josh! Seriously?

They had been friends for twelve years now, and sure, there had always been an underlying attraction, but never something as crippling and all encompassing as it was of late.

Why did this have to come about now? Years ago would have been different. But now? It was an impossibility now. You couldn’t go from being best friends for over a decade to this. It just didn’t happen.

And the fact that she was even wasting time thinking about it now angered her the most. She would never, ever be capable of being the kind of woman he was attracted to.

Frustrating. Simply frustrating. But did that stop her? Nope.

At night she was tortured by thoughts of Drew, and during the day it was thoughts of Josh that threatened her sanity. She couldn’t take any more.

For a girl who hadn’t been on a serious date in years, she sure did have a lot of guy problems.

* * *

The night air was brisk; the sky was dark and gray. The unmistakable scent of fall surrounded her. Drew pulled her in close to his side as he whispered in her ear and charmed her with his sweet words. She turned to him, lifting her face to meet his lips in a kiss. Suddenly, he was gone and she was back in her room.

“Micah...”

She turned at the haunting sound of her mother’s shaky voice. It caused her to sit up with a start in her bed, knowing immediately something was wrong. Her father was there, too, clad in a robe and slippers. They both sat down next to her on the bed, pulling her into their embrace. Her father’s arms held her in a viselike grip, his breaths coming in quick succession. A feeling of trepidation coursed through her. Rapid thoughts of what could have happened raced through her mind.

“What? What happened? Is it Grandma?” Her mother shook her head, telling her without words that it was not her grandmother. Tears fell from her mother’s face.

“Grandpa?”

“No, honey.” Her mother could barely get the words out.

Her father was holding her so tight she could barely breathe, rocking her back and forth as her mother quietly sobbed next to her. Neither spoke for what seemed like forever. The silence was deafening.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Drew...”

No!

“...Drew’s gone to be with Jesus.”

Micah’s world collapsed. Her father held her tight as the gut-wrenching sobs took over. She felt robbed of air, robbed of thought. Robbed. It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. He was just with her. He had just kissed her good-night a couple hours ago.

It was all a lie! This was not happening! It couldn’t be true. It was his birthday! People weren’t supposed to die on their birthdays. Eighteen-year-olds weren’t supposed to die, period.

No. No. No. No. No. This couldn’t be real.

Micah jolted awake, sweat forming on her brow. She reached for her teddy bear, drawing comfort from it as the tears began to fall. Crying was her only way to release all of the emotions she still felt so vividly. No one would ever understand it. Even she didn’t understand how after years without Drew, the pain could just return with such vengeance.

Her mother had told her that grief was a unique emotion, that everyone’s experience was different. Some lasted longer than others. It was obvious the plan wasn’t working. Josh had been right. She had no way to control the dreams, and as long as the dreams kept coming the pain would never fully go away.

“Oh, Drew. Why do you keep doing this to me?”

She couldn’t handle it anymore. She desperately wanted to move on. It was only bringing up more pain and it hurt too much. She was drowning here, drowning in painful memories.

SEVEN

Josh couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation he’d had with Jamie. Was he just coming up with excuses? He had always been aware that deep down he had feelings for her. But what was he supposed to do about that?

Nothing. That’s what. He couldn’t act on them. It wouldn’t be right. He couldn’t take advantage of their years of friendship—no matter what he felt.

He needed a distraction, something that would take his mind off of Micah for longer than an afternoon. He needed to get a date. And soon.

He walked toward the exit of the fire station, his shift over.

“Excuse me.”

“Yeah?” Josh looked up to find a cute blond-haired woman standing next to the fire truck holding a cake. Distraction found. Wow, that was quick! “How can I help you?”

“The fire you guys put out yesterday was at my parents’ house. I just wanted to thank you. Because of you guys, my parents are alive. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.” She came closer to him, batting her eyelashes. “Here. I baked a cake for the station.”

“That wasn’t necessary, but we’ll take it, anyway. I, for one, have quite a sweet tooth.” He looked down at the cake as she handed it to him. Chocolate, frosted with the worst attempt at “thank you” written across the top. The u looked strange, different from the rest of the word. He inspected it closer, trying not to appear rude, but it had him curious. She started to giggle. He looked up to find her blushing bright pink.

“I have to make a confession. I ran out of white frosting so I used toothpaste at the end.”

“Oh.” What the heck? Toothpaste? It both grossed him out and made him laugh. “And just what made you think toothpaste would be a good idea?”

“Well, I figured that way your sweet tooth would be both satisfied and cleaned. Win-win.” A big white smile crossed her face. This girl was going to be fun.

“My name’s Josh Taylor. I don’t think I caught yours.”

“That’s funny. My name’s Taylor, too.” She flashed him a flirty grin that clearly showed she was interested. So was he. He would just have to talk to her about her multipurpose use of toothpaste.

“Well, come on in, Taylor. I’m sure the guys would love to meet you. And let’s not tell them about the toothpaste. That will be our little secret.”

He led the way into the firehouse to the common area. The guys were lounging on couches watching ESPN when they walked in the room. “Hey, guys. This is Taylor. She brought us a cake.”

That caught everyone’s attention. He couldn’t be sure if it was Taylor, the cake or the combination that brought them all to attention with a chorus of “Hi, Taylor.”

“We responded to the fire at her parents’ house yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“The one on Ninth.”

“Oh. How are they doing?”

“Good. They lost a lot of things, but it can all be replaced. We’re just happy they are both safe.”

“Do you have time for a piece of cake?” one of the guys asked her.

“No. I’ve got to get going. Thank you, though.”

“Thank you.”

“I just came to drop off the cake and tell you how much my parents and I appreciate all you did.”

“That was really sweet of you.” Craig, one of the youngest at the station, began to approach her and Josh knew he had to step in.

“Here, I was on my way out, too. I’ll walk you out.”

“Thank you. That would be nice.”

Josh guided her out of the room with a lightly placed hand on her back, staking his claim to the other guys. He glanced over his shoulder to see Craig stick his finger in the frosting, and the subsequent facial expression once he tasted the toothpaste mixed with fudge. Yummy.

“You didn’t get a piece of cake.”

He was hoping she had not noticed that.

“I’ll text them to save me a piece. I’ll be back later.” A lie. He didn’t want a piece of that cake. Not after knowing what she had used.

“Oh, good.” When they made it to the front entrance, she stopped and turned to him. Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before turning them up to look at him. “I’m not usually this forward...but would you like to get coffee or something sometime?”

“Yeah. I’m up for that.” They exchanged numbers quickly before she went her way and he went his. Man, he hoped this distraction worked. This was how he had handled it for the last decade. So why did he get the strong feeling it wouldn’t work this time?

* * *

Taylor sat across from him in the cozy restaurant; a question resonated in her big blue eyes. Was she asking him a question? Shoot. What did she just say? She sat there, waiting for a response from him.

She tried again. “What are some things you like to do?”

She was so sweet and innocent. She had no idea he wasn’t listening to her. He felt guilty. He should feel guilty. This was not how he typically acted on dates. It did not seem fair to her.

“I am usually up for anything on my off days. I hang out with my friends, play baseball in the summer...”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah. My friends are pretty great.” Micah came to mind again. Dang, that girl could not leave him alone. “What about you?”

She was talking, and he did his best to pay attention. She deserved that much, although he wasn’t starting out too well. He had already missed a good portion of her story.

“...when my brother died, it was one of the only things that made me feel safe again.”

“I’m sorry about that... Your brother, that is.” What was it that made her feel safe?

He really should be paying attention. But as he watched her lips move, his mind was invaded by thoughts of Micah’s lips and how her bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top. And once that happened, his mind had to take a detour to remember every heated detail of their kiss. How her soft lips had responded to his. How her supple curves felt in his hands. How her body felt warm and willing beneath his.

Warm and willing? He was letting his imagination run wild, apparently. He drained his glass of ice water and motioned for the waiter to bring more.

“There’s just something about Neil Diamond’s music that reminds me of those days when my brother was still alive and my family was whole. I feel at home again, safe and secure.”

Hold the phone. She was talking about Neil Diamond?

“Do you know what I mean?” She looked at him over the rim of her glass of water. She took his silence to mean he needed further urging. “Do you have something or somewhere that makes you feel like you are safe with them?”

“Yeah. I do.” Micah.

He was a jerk, a certified jerk for taking this girl out when his heart belonged to another. His heart had no business belonging to Micah, but that did not make it any less true. He needed to work harder to change that.

“Tell me more about your brother. What was he like? Older, younger...?”

“He was older, by five years. He was in the military. That’s how he died, in the war. Before that he liked to do all kinds of things...”

She talked and he tried, but he just couldn’t pay attention. Maybe she talked too much. Maybe it was the way she talked. Maybe he was developing adult-onset ADD. It was possible. He was sure of it. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not pay attention to what she was telling him. Instead he was noticing all the people in the restaurant: a group of friends laughing in the corner, a couple having a romantic dinner, another couple who appeared to be arguing and an older gentleman who sat by himself. All of them appeared more interesting than his distraction. Not much of a distraction at all. So much for that idea.

If he wasn’t careful, he would end up just like the man sitting alone in a busy restaurant.

* * *

Josh needed a cup of coffee. His date with Taylor had been last night, and although the night had ended early for them, he had found himself walking around for hours afterward. There was a lot on his mind and it was all cluttering up his head.

He was on his way to work, a big shift ahead of him, so that cup of coffee was vital right now. He swung open the door to the coffeehouse he frequented near the fire station and stepped up to the counter. The girl behind the counter flushed bright pink as she took his order. The uniform had a tendency to do that, even when it was just the navy T-shirt with the fireman logo.

“It’s on the house.” He didn’t think her face could get pinker, but it did.

Man, did he love the perks of his job. “Thanks.”

Just as he turned to leave, a familiar flash of red caught his eye. Micah. She sat in the corner, near the window, completely immersed in a book. She did that when she read. She would get lost in the pages and be completely unaware of the world around her.

This was the Micah he was used to.

Her thick black frames sat perched on her nose as if they were sliding down and she had not realized it yet. Her hair was piled high in a messy knot on top of her head, a common look for her. She had let the girls talk her into bangs that cut straight above her eyes. He could tell they were bothering her and interfering with her concentration by the way she would blow them out of her eyes. The rebellious red fringe would float up for a moment, then settle back down onto her forehead.

He approached her slowly, not wanting to disturb her yet. He enjoyed watching this side of her. As he got closer, he could see she was biting her lip. Her soft, full bottom lip enticingly trapped between her teeth. Torture. Pure torture.

As she turned the page, she switched to biting her thumbnail. The book must be a real nail-biter. He smirked at his own pun.

“So, is this another one of those books about the color gray?”

Her head snapped up. Big brown eyes stared back up at him from behind smudged lenses. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

There was no smile, merely an acknowledgment of his presence. She usually greeted him with a big smile, one that made him melt.

“I work right around the corner.” He indicated with his coffee cup.

“Ah. I guess I forgot about that. I’m here all the time, though, and I never see you.”

“Maybe you’re never looking. Too busy engrossed in your shady book.”

“I am not reading that kind of book!”

“Just messing with you. What are you reading? Judging by your nails—” he lifted her hand to get a closer look “—it’s pretty intense.”

“A mystery.”

“Makes sense.”

She snatched his cup of coffee and took a sip. He would never allow anyone else to do something like that, but it was just one of her annoying traits—she was always curious what others were eating or drinking.

“Uck! What is that?”

He had to laugh at the grimace she produced.

“Are you gonna call that number?”

“What number?”

“The one written on your cup.”

He lifted the paper cup and inspected it. There, above the logo, were digits hastily written in black Sharpie with a heart and the name Carrie. He looked over his shoulder to find the blushing girl leaning on the counter, staring in his direction. Upon realizing she had been caught, she quickly jumped up and got back to work.

“Um, maybe.” He liked getting a rise from Micah. He wouldn’t call her. He had no interest in blushing college students. They were a dime a dozen.

“Are you kidding me? She looks like she’s barely out of high school.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s obviously older than that.”

“Don’t you have to get to work?”

“Yes, but I can take a few moments to hang out with my best friend. Don’t you enjoy spending time with me?”

“Oh, sure, I love feeling like I’m at the center of an episode of The Bachelor.”

He almost choked on his coffee as he laughed. “You know, sometimes you are really funny.”

“I have an annual quota. That was my last one for the year. Hope you enjoyed it. Now go to work. I’m trying to read, and that girl is going to get fired if you don’t stop distracting her.”

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to your book. See you later, Mike.”

“See ya.” With that she was back with her nose in the book. It was as if he had never even been there. He tried not to be offended by that as he headed to the door. He noticed the girl behind the counter again, still looking his way. He lifted his cup in her direction, acknowledging her, causing her to blush red again. It never got old.

* * *

Micah had set about her day purposely ignoring the dream she had the night before. A dream like that could easily set her back again.

Her mind wanted to get lost in the past again. Her heart craved the love she had once believed would last forever. But she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let herself go through this again.

Knowing her empty apartment was the last place she should be in this vulnerable state, she’d found refuge in a busy coffee shop and within the pages of a mystery novel. She’d never expected to see Josh, and with the current betrayal and instability of her heart and mind, he was the last person she wanted to see.

She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t even want to see him. His presence was a complication, and only made matters worse. How could she address one problem while he was creating new problems?

She’d kept the conversation light and casual and hoped her traitorous body wouldn’t reveal anything about the effect he had on her. She had to stay away from him. For now, at least.

Micah had left the coffee shop shortly after Josh did, unable to focus on her novel any longer. She found herself back in her quiet and empty apartment. Sabina wouldn’t be home until late, leaving her alone with her overpowering thoughts.

She tried to fight it, but the pull was intense. Her plan was an absolute failure. In an effort to neatly contain her grief in a box, she had only further remained lost in this grieving process. Healing would never happen until the grief was faced head-on, until she allowed herself to work through the emotions and to feel them one by one.

She was pissed. None of this was fair to her. She had hopes and dreams, and long ago they had been centered around Drew. In an instant, everything had been stolen from her. She would never know what it would feel like to stand opposite him as he lifted her veil and claimed her as wife. She would never see the children they would have had. Would they have had Drew’s bright blue eyes and her red hair?

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to hit someone.

It wasn’t fair!

She needed a distraction. Turning on some music, she cranked the volume and cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, hoping to redirect some of this hostility toward the grime building in the bathroom.

EIGHT

Word had gotten back to Micah that Josh had a new girlfriend. This new piece of information should not shock her or bother her. He was showing typical behavior. She was the one who had been acting abnormally lately.

He was allowed to date. She had no claim on him. Never had and never would. However, it did annoy her that he had started seeing someone and had failed to mention it to her the other day at the coffee shop. There had always been an unspoken understanding between them. She always met the girlfriends before they became his girlfriends. Her approval was required.

It shouldn’t bother her, but oh, were her feathers ruffled. Hanna must have felt the same way, arranging a girlfriend meet and greet in the guise of a housewarming party. Or maybe it was a housewarming party with the added bonus of being able to sneak a peek at the new girlfriend. It didn’t matter.

She sat in her car, in Hanna and Nathan’s driveway, seriously considering heading back home. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to go in or not. Meeting the girlfriend was important, but she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Josh again.

Micah turned the car back on and reached for her seat belt when a knock on the window made her jump.

Busted.

“Where are you going?” Jamie opened her car door and stuck his head inside. “If I have to be here, so do you.”

“Oh, I just forgot—ah! Never mind.” She let go of the seat belt, turned the car off again and bravely stepped out of the car.

“Dang, girl! You look hot!”

Heat rushed to the surface of her cheeks, and she was sure they were turning an embarrassing shade of red. She looked down at her black leather leggings and electric-blue suede booties.

She was trying something new in an effort to feel better about herself, but it had only caused her to second-guess herself more. She felt so insecure in the new clothes, but she kept recalling Sabina’s lecture on confidence. Confidence makes the outfit. You can pull off anything as long as you do it confidently.

Therefore, she doubted her ability to pull off the look. “I don’t look ridiculous?”

“Heck, no!” He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her along. “You’re walking in with me.”

“Wow. This place is crazy. I bet it cost a buttload of money.” Hanna had been adamant about finishing the decorating before anyone saw it. It was impressive, to say the least. Colonial architecture provided history and elegance, but the modern upgrades gave it an element of luxury. “Hanna must be making a lot more money than she’s been letting on. Next time we go out, we should make her buy.”

“I was just thinking the same thing!”

The oversize front door opened to them as they walked up to it. Hanna greeted them, looking as if she’d just stepped out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine with her happy-homeowner look. “Yay! You’re here! Let me take your coats.”

“Hanna, your home is gorgeous!”

“Thanks. Wow, Mike. Love the outfit.”

“See? I told ya.” Jamie’s elbow shot out and nudged her in the side.

“Nathan, come get these coats and put them away,” Hanna called out, disappearing into another room.

“Guess we have to give ourselves a tour.”

“I think that sounds like a good idea.” Taking Jamie’s offered arm, she followed him as they went off to explore the huge house in all of its glory. Each room was filled with people—people in suits—Hanna and Nathan’s type of people. Their conversations were even boring in passing.

She could hear Josh’s voice coming from farther down the hall. A delicious tingle traveled down her spine. Never had the sound of his voice incited such a reaction from her. She told herself to get a grip. It was just Josh. BFF Josh.

It didn’t matter what she wore or whether or not she wore it confidently. She would never turn his head. The girls he dated—and there were plenty of them—were of a higher caliber. They were girls who cared about their appearance, like, really cared. They had magnetic personalities. They tended to giggle at everything he said. He got attention everywhere he went.

He had never, not once, dated a bookish girl with glasses and an affinity for sweatpants. So it was absolute insanity to think he would actually look her way or think of her as anything other than a sister or best friend. Pure insanity.

Where was this coming from, anyway? Why the sudden resentment?

As she entered the room and caught sight of him, he automatically affected the temperature around her. He looked good. Really good. Drawn into the way his T-shirt hugged his muscled torso, she almost missed the girl holding onto his arm.

She was beautiful. Long blond hair hung in wavy curls around her shoulders. Her body was...well, it was dangerous. Maybe even lethal.

See? This was what she had to deal with. She needed to just forget about this and get some sense knocked into her.

Distracted by her wandering thoughts, Micah almost missed the introductions. She wasn’t really paying attention. She caught the name.

Taylor.

Figured. She looked like a Taylor, all blonde and bubbly.

Was this jealousy? What kind of a question is that? Of course it’s jealousy!

Micah forced a smile and waved her greeting to the new arm candy. She was being rude and she knew it. Josh would let her hear it later, but she couldn’t help it. She just did not care right now. Why did she have to be nice to all of his interchangeable arm extensions?

He sent a perplexed look her way, which she chose to ignore. Let him think whatever he wanted. She wanted to leave, to go home. She was acting like a crazy chick with all her erratic roller-coaster emotions. There was no way she could handle being around him right now, especially with this Taylor girl at his side.

Micah left the room and ran into Hanna in the hallway. She reached out and grabbed her arm as she passed by. “I’m leaving, Han.”

“What? You can’t go!”

“I’m just not feeling good.” She couldn’t believe she’d just lied to her friend. What kind of person was she turning into?

“I don’t care. This is a big night for me. This is my housewarming and engagement party.” She let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I didn’t mean that. I care if you really are sick. Are you really? Or is something else bothering you?”

“You’re right. It’s your big night. I’ll hang out a little while longer.”

“Thanks. If you really are sick, I’ll forgive you if you have to go.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

If she could just steer clear of Josh and his new girlfriend then maybe, just maybe, she could survive this party.

“Come with me. I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

Hanna took her by the wrist and pulled her into another room. She obviously didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Just what I wanted tonight—a fix-up.”

“He’s really nice!”

“I’m sure he is.”

Hanna pulled her to a stop in front of a very tall man in a suit. Yes, a suit. At a party.

Uh, I don’t think so.

“Micah, this is Cameron Patterson. Cameron, this is Micah O’Shea.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” He stuck out his hand in greeting and she took it.

She glanced sideways at Hanna before speaking. “Oh, really? All good, I hope.”

“Yes. Hanna has sung your praises.”

“Has she now?” She threw another look Hanna’s way. She would definitely kill her later. “So do you work with Hanna?”

“Yes. Are you a lawyer, too?”

“Me?” She laughed. “Oh, no. I’m...uh...in between jobs right now. Hanna and I have been friends for forever.”

“Really? So you two grew up together?”

“Pretty much.” Micah’s eyes scanned the room without her realizing what she was doing—subconsciously looking for Josh. No sign of him.

Cameron wasn’t bad on the eyes. He had to be at least six foot four, judging by how he towered over her. He had kind eyes and a pleasant voice, but none of it mattered. Her life was a mess, emotionally and physically.

She wanted to grab hold of his arms, look him in the eye and tell him, You don’t want me. I would be no good for you. I can promise you that.

And that hurt.

Drew had ruined her by dying and leaving her to endure years of grief and pain, and by ruining all her best-laid plans and dreams.

Josh had ruined her, too, with the way he’d babied her all those years. Because of the attention he’d bestowed upon her and the affection he so easily gave, she’d never sought those things from anyone else. Therefore she’d never dated, never faced any of her issues, and most importantly, never healed.

She was of no use to anyone anymore. And it was all their fault.

* * *

Josh had no idea why he’d brought Taylor. She had called and asked what he was doing and on a whim he’d asked her if she wanted to come. But the moment Micah walked into the room, he knew he had made a huge mistake. What had he been thinking?

She’d strutted into the room wearing leather—leather!—leggings and high heels. Her black top dipped low in the front and he fought the urge to cover her with a coat. Her usually riotously curly hair, now straightened into submission, hung like silk around her shoulders and down her back.

Sabina and Jamie introduced themselves to Taylor, but Micah just gave a slight wave. He tried to read her eyes, tried to figure out what she was thinking, but failed.

She wasn’t wearing her glasses tonight, having traded them in for contacts. He liked the unobstructed view of her eyes but missed the glasses. They were more like the Micah he was used to. He preferred her hair in a ponytail and her nose buried in a book. He liked the sweatpants. He was comfortable around that Micah. He could be himself around her. Comfort was not a word that could be used to describe what he was feeling now, with this new version of Micah standing before him.

Leather!

Their gazes locked, her poker-face expression still giving nothing away. She turned abruptly and left the room. The firm set of his shoulders relaxed as she walked away.

Every time she was near, his guard went up. It was becoming tiresome, always trying to protect. Protect himself from falling victim to his desires and ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him. Protect the promise he’d made to Drew to always take care of her, be the brother she’d never had, making her permanently off-limits. But even if he failed in all other areas, he would always work hard to protect Micah, even if that meant he had to keep her at a distance from himself.

He turned to find Taylor looking up at him. “You want something to drink?”

“You read my mind,” she purred and gave him a coquettish smile.

He headed toward the kitchen in search of refreshments, pushing his way past one too many suits. As he passed one doorway, she caught his eye. She was hard to miss. Micah stood off to the side, talking with a tall man in a suit. Her face was lit up with a smile as she laughed at something he said.

There was a huge part of him that wanted to storm into the room, knock the guy out, throw her over his shoulder and carry her away.

But the rational side told him to focus on getting the drinks he was sent to get. Micah was allowed to talk to men. She was allowed to laugh at their jokes. She was allowed to smile and flirt. She was allowed to do whatever she wanted.

But Mr. Tall Guy was not allowed to look down her shirt like he was doing.

Walk away. Just walk away.

Josh had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. And somehow he was able to walk away.

“Hey, Josh.” He looked up to see an old friend approaching just as he made it to the drink station.

They talked for several minutes, catching up and rehashing a few fond memories before promising to get together at some point. He spun around quickly to reach for a drink and collided with her.

Vibrant hair filled his vision. Soft, luscious curves brushed up against him. Her scent surrounded him, a mixture of a day at the beach and clean laundry—citrus and maybe coconut. It was the kind of scent that made him want to escape...with her.

“Sorry. That was clumsy of me. Did your drink spill?” He quickly apologized. She stood so close. Too close. His eyes took in her down-turned gaze, traveled past to the lip she was biting and even farther down to where her top dipped perilously low. His eager gaze took in the gentle swell of her breasts, the pale ivory expanse of divine skin...

You’re such a jackass.

Inwardly he cringed. Five minutes ago he’d wanted to kill a man for doing the very same thing he had just caught himself doing.

“No. It was empty.”

What was empty?

She avoided looking him in the eye, instead looking down at an empty cup.

Oh, the cup was empty. Made sense.

“Good.” Why did this have to be so awkward? It had never been like this before. It had always been easy breezy. His eyes took in the leather leggings painted on her long legs and the bright blue heels that made them look even longer.

That’s why. She had never dressed like this before.

She made a move to lean over again, brushing up against him as he did. “I just need to get to the soda. Can you hand it to me?”

The nerve in his neck twitched erratically as he clenched his jaw. She was going to be his undoing.

“Sure. Here you go,” he choked out.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She poured her drink and handed the two-liter bottle back to him before walking away, her hips swaying seductively.

“Hey, Josh? What happened to my drink?” He looked up to see Taylor’s innocent face.

Good question.

NINE

Micah gazed at the letter in her hands. Drew had given it to her on their two-year anniversary along with a solitary white rose. She lightly grazed her fingertips over the hastily written words—I hope we’re together for a long, long time.

After leaving Hanna’s house, she’d felt an overwhelming sense of...guilt? It didn’t make any sense. Was it even possible to cheat on the ghost of a boyfriend past? Because that’s exactly what she felt she’d done.

She couldn’t get away from the new feelings she now had for Josh. The way she reacted to him, the type of thoughts she had about him.

Coming home to find the letter hadn’t helped. After she had cleaned out the box of memories she had placed the letter on her dresser, not sure where else to put it now that she had done away with the box.

She felt she was becoming insane even to herself. She really should go see someone about this. It was all getting out of control.

Closing her eyes, she brought forth images of Drew. She tried to imagine what he would look like now. She imagined a beautiful house where they would have lived. A fireplace was lit where they sat in the living room, curled up on the couch. Drew’s arm stretched across the back of cushions, beckoning her to curl up deeper into his embrace. She went willingly.

She looked up into his eyes, his cerulean gaze just as she remembered. His hair was shorter, cropped around his ears and neck. His clean-shaven jaw seemed sharper than before. She lifted her fingers to caress the hard, intense angles.

His kiss descended on her lips and she accepted lovingly with unveiled passion. Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Her fingers splayed out through his short hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him.

She gave herself completely to the kiss as it grew more and more heated. Without breaking the kiss, she moved to sit astride him, relishing the feeling of him underneath her.

His lips broke away from hers as he traveled down to the sensitive part of her neck. She threw her head back, desire taking over. She had never felt more alive. Her skin had never felt more sensitive, heightening every detail of his touch. Even the way the coarse stubble on his face scratched against her skin excited her.

Her eyes flew open, her body frozen as she recalled the smooth angles of Drew’s skin.

His head lifted; their gazes locked.

Not blue.

Gray.

Her vision was clouded by the desire he ignited within her, but she couldn’t mistake the heat in those steel-gray eyes.

Josh.

It wasn’t supposed to be him! She needed to get off of him. She needed to breathe. But just as she tried to move, he pulled her back down hard against him.

He wanted her. And if she finally faced the truth, she wanted him, too.

The nip at her neck was her breaking point. Her resolve wasn’t just weakened, it was destroyed. She felt herself melt into his embrace.

Micah framed his face with both hands, wanting to look him in the eyes, to know whom she was kissing this time. His lips met hers in a demanding kiss. His tongue, sliding between her lips, entangled with her own.

She had never known such desperation, such need.

Josh pushed her back onto the couch, moving with her. He deepened the kiss as he positioned himself on top of her. Instinct drove her to wrap her legs around him, tightening the connection until space no longer existed between them.

One hand remained entwined in his hair while the other drifted down his back. The muscles rippled underneath the cotton of his T-shirt as her fingers grazed down his spine. Her hand slipped beneath the cotton to touch the heated skin of his torso. Her greedy fingers roamed to his front and moved slowly, tortuously over him. The animal-like sound he emitted further ignited her arousal.

Alarms went off in Micah’s head, but she ignored them. Instead she grabbed hold of the shirt and yanked it up. She needed it gone. Now. He obliged, pulling away from her only long enough to take it off.

The shock of feeling skin on skin forced her to look down. In the midst of her desire, she was unaware that he had unbuttoned her top and pushed it aside.

The alarm sounded again, piercing through the fog. She couldn’t stop even if she wanted to.

His large masculine hands moved over her—

“Micah!”

She bolted upright at the sound of Sabina’s shrill voice.

“Turn that stupid alarm clock off and get up! You’ve got your interview in an hour!” Sabina yelled from the other room.

Micah’s gaze took in the sheets tangled around her ankles, her comforter discarded on the floor beside her bed.

She put a hand to her chest, feeling the rapid beating of her heart. That was some dream!

“Micah!”

“I hear you! Jeez! I’m up.”

Micah jumped in the shower before Sabina could get a look at her. She knew one look would be enough for Sabina. She would know something was up and then be on her case, demanding details.

The cold water was a shock to her still feverish skin. Goose bumps puckered on her flesh as she forced herself to withstand the punishment for just a moment longer before turning the dial in the opposite direction.

She showered quickly and readied herself for the interview. She needed to focus if she had any hope of making it through this day. And she really needed this interview to go smoothly.

Donning the navy suit Hanna had let her borrow, she studied her reflection in the mirror. For some strange reason she expected to see it written on her face for the world to see that she had had another steamy dream about Josh last night. She was shocked when she didn’t see it staring back at her in the mirror. Though her cheeks were still a vibrant shade of pink. It looked good on her.

“My, my. Don’t you look nice.” Sabina gave her a once-over when she entered the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.

“I try.”

“Did you have a rough night last night? Your alarm clock was going off for twenty minutes this morning. Drove me crazy.”

Heat filled her cheeks. “Sorry.”

Sabina’s eyes widened before a slow smile formed on her face. She looked like a cat who ate the canary. “You had another steamy dreamy!”

“Oh, my gosh. We are not talking about this.”

“Oh, yes, we are. Sit back down. I need details. Who was it about this time? Ooh, ooh! That tall drink of water that Hanna introduced you to!”

“No. And FYI, no one says tall drink of water anymore.”

Sabina waved a dismissive hand. “He was tall and hot. Who cares what you call him, just make sure you, you know, call him.”

Micah stirred some creamer into her coffee and took a tentative sip, not wanting to burn her tongue.

“So who was it? Did you meet someone else last night?”

“No. And I’m not telling you a thing. Last time I told you about a dream, you went and blabbed about it. Can’t trust you with anything.”

“Wow, that was harsh.”

“I’ve got to go. Can’t be late for the interview.”

“I’ll wear you down. You’ll break eventually. Mark my words.”

Micah ignored her and reached for her purse.

“Good luck, bestie!”

* * *

Her interview was a success. Of course, there was the standard waiting period before they would call and offer the job, but she was almost positive they would.

She felt as if she was floating as she walked out of the building and onto the busy streets of Boston. With her current cheery mood, going home sounded like the worst idea ever, so she made an impulsive decision.

It was scary going alone, but in spite of the fear and lack of best friend, she found herself in a parlor chair in the corner of a cramped tattoo shop. This was something she needed to do on her own, anyway. It symbolized the next phase in her life, and that required more independence.

The pristine navy suit she wore stuck out like a sore thumb in the little shop, and she was getting a few odd looks from the random patron or artist.

A man stood and called her name. It was time. She shucked the suit jacket and sat down in the chair, telling him exactly what she wanted.

The tattoo artist leaned heavily on her as he concentrated on getting the template in the right place. The room had a vague antiseptic scent mixed with cigarettes. The smell had a negative effect on her, causing her stomach to churn.

When he started tattooing the ink on her skin, she closed her eyes and focused on the music playing overhead and the hum of the machine next to her. She knew it would hurt, but she wanted this. Once she made up her mind, nothing was going to stop her, even if she had to do it alone. So she chose the small heart design and ignored the pain.

“We get a lot of requests for hearts,” the artist said as he concentrated on getting the thin lines just right. “But this is the first one I’ve done like this. It’s kind of different. I like it. Does it have a special meaning to you?”

“Yes. It does.” She didn’t want to explain it, so she kept it at that. He seemed to accept it as a sufficient answer, because he just nodded and kept working. It didn’t take long at all. She was surprised at how quick he was.

Micah peered over her shoulder into the mirror to see her fresh ink. There on her left shoulder was the tiny heart that she had chosen. Looking at its dainty lines, she knew she had made the right choice. At least this way part of his heart would always be with her.

It was perfect.

* * *

Taylor must have sensed that he wasn’t as into her as she was into him. After he’d handed her her drink at Hanna’s party, she’d walked away and he barely saw her the rest of the night. At one point, he saw her talking to a group of guys. Later, she left with one of them.

His ego was bruised for sure. He had never had a date leave with someone else. Not ever. He must be losing his touch. At least it saved him from having to end it with her. He didn’t feel right leading her on, anyway. Now that he had finally come to grips with how he felt about Micah, he couldn’t stomach the thought of being with anyone else.

His future looked bleak. Micah would never truly be his. And if he couldn’t date anyone else, he was headed for a long and lonely life.

He was pathetic.

He woke early and went for a run. Running always gave him clarity of mind to help him sort things out. It also released all his tension and eased his frustration. And to be honest, he was fraught with tension and frustration these days. With that in mind, he doubled up his normal route and picked up speed, pounding it all out on the pavement.

TEN

Micah had not dressed up for Halloween in years. It was a child’s holiday. Grown-ups passed out the candy. They did not participate. However, in going along with her newly adopted theme of making changes in her life, she succumbed to another one of Sabina’s wonderful ideas and dressed up as a butterfly for a Halloween party at Sabina’s new boy toy’s place.

Her costume was far from what she would have picked out, but Sabina always had a way of making her do or wear something she would regret later. Note to self...stop doing everything Sabina tells you to do and learn to say no. Micah had no idea that butterflies had a skanky species, but here she was clad in a miniskirt and tights, with glittery wings and rainbow eyelashes.

Since the party was being held at Sabina’s boyfriend’s place, she had left without Micah in order to help out with some of the hosting duties. Funny, she never helped with any of those duties when they hosted a party.

Micah exited the apartment building, holding her wings in her hand, and pulled her jacket tighter around her. It had been snowing pretty badly, but she was Massachusetts born and bred. She could handle anything.

Deciding she needed a cup of coffee, she forced her way through the heavy snow toward her favorite coffee drive-through only to find it closed. Hmm... She parked her car and trudged through the snow. It had to be open. Maybe their drive-through was just closed. But as she reached for the door, she came face to face with a large orange-and-black closed sign crushing her hopes.

Great. Just great. What in the world were they closed for? It was Halloween, not Christmas.

She turned back toward the parking lot and just then noticed it was empty. She should have seen that before getting out in this weather. She turned on the car and waited for it to heat up again, flipping on the music and singing along. Putting the gear in reverse, she turned to see behind her, but was surrounded by a blanket of white. She pressed on the gas, but nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. Seriously?

Micah was stuck. She was stuck in the snow. Stuck in an empty parking lot with no one around to help. While dressed like a skanky butterfly. Just great.

She put the car back in park and pulled her phone out. Immediately she went to Josh’s number, but stopped just before hitting the green button. Instead she pulled up Sabina’s number. It rang, but no answer. That girl never answered her phone! She tried Hanna, but when it went straight to voice mail she remembered the big meeting she’d said she had tonight. Jamie was too far away. That just left Josh.

She called, and just like she expected, he answered and was on his way.

Why did he always have to play the role of her hero, her knight in shining armor? She would never learn how to make it on her own if she was constantly depending on him to run to her rescue.

Sure, focus on your newly found need for independence. Ignore the way your whole body is teeming with longing at the thought of seeing Josh.

As images of her dream the other night invaded her mind, she was forced to remove her scarf and undo the buttons of her heavy coat. She was so hot she could turn the car’s heater off and stay warm for days just thinking about that dream.

Trouble up ahead.

Deep, deep trouble.

* * *

She called, he came running. It was as simple as that. It didn’t matter that warnings about the impending snowstorm were blasting on every television and radio station. In fact, it only made him move faster.

What he did not understand was why in the world was she out in this mess in the first place. Hadn’t she listened to the news? Forget that. Hadn’t she noticed the blanket of white that covered everything in sight? Even his big, heavy truck was sliding on the slushy streets. Her car would never survive in this.

In the distance he could barely make out her white Camry, already blending into the snowy backdrop. He plowed through the snow building up in the small coffee shop parking lot and pulled up next to her. She hopped out of her car and quickly jumped into his truck.

Her hood fell back as she settled into the seat, revealing part of a Halloween costume. Crazy-colored false eyelashes fluttered erratically as she buckled her seat belt. He shook his head.

“You were going to a Halloween party in this? Are you kidding me? Are you insane?”

“There’s no need to be rude. I understand now how foolish an idea it was.”

“You think?” He carefully steered back onto the road, trying to catch a few peeks at her costume without losing control of the truck. “What are you supposed to be? Tinker Bell?”

“No. I’m a butterfly.”

“A butterfly? This just keeps getting better. What happened?”

“I was headed to the party and stopped for a coffee. I thought the road conditions were doable.”

“Well, Tink, your car should be fine here overnight. Hopefully we can get it out tomorrow. We might have to dig it out, though.”

“Butterfly, you moron!”

He kept his eyes on the road, fully aware that the conditions had drastically worsened since he had first left his apartment. It was almost impossible to see the lanes, and even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to stay in them. His truck felt like a puck on an air-hockey table, gliding back and forth. “Listen. These streets are getting really bad. I can take you back to your place, but then I’d be stuck there until it clears up. Or I can bring you back to my place, where you would be stuck.”

“My place is closer.”

The ride to her apartment was silent and awkward, at least on his side of the truck. This didn’t happen often for him. He liked to be in control of the conversation. If people weren’t comfortable and laughing around him, it just felt weird. He always felt responsible for breaking the ice and easing the awkwardness, but this time he was the awkward one. No amount of jokes or casual banter could dispel the tension making itself at home in his truck.

Pulling up to the Victorian where she lived, he finally let out the breath he had been holding. They’d arrived in one piece, but barely. There was no way he would make it home in this. He shook his head, thinking about how dumb it was that Micah had actually thought she could make it to a party tonight. She ran inside while he made sure his truck was all sealed up. There was nothing worse than realizing you had left a window or a door cracked in a snowstorm. His truck was his baby. He was not letting anything happen to her.

After lifting the wiper blades off the windshield, he headed into Micah’s building. It was going to be a long night. Thank God Sabina would be around. For once he was grateful for their combative relationship. It would take his mind off of things.

He climbed the stairs to her apartment. Her front door was ajar, her snow-covered shoes appearing to have been shed midstep, blocking the doorway. He kicked them aside and placed his next to them, careful not to step in the quickly growing puddle of melted snow.

It was quiet—too quiet. “Where’s Sabina?”

“She’s at the party already.”

Of course she is.

“You should have seen her costume. She is going to be miserable in it all night.”

“Oh, I can only imagine what she would have worn.”

She yanked off her jacket and threw it on the chair by the door. Something caught his eye. Her shoulders were bare, revealing portions of her back. If he was not mistaken, he could have sworn he saw a tattoo on her shoulder. Had she gone without him? Work had caused him to cancel on her, but he’d just thought she would postpone and wait for him.

As she walked from the living room to the kitchen and then disappeared into her bedroom, he strained to make out what the tiny new piece of ink was. It was a heart, but it wasn’t the one she’d said she was going to get. No, this heart was different. Why had she changed her mind?

She had left him alone in the apartment. This was awkward. It never had been before, but it definitely was now. After twelve years of friendship, things suddenly felt alien between them. He didn’t know what to say or what to do. He definitely didn’t feel comfortable touching her anymore. The easiness that had once been a natural part of their relationship now ceased to exist. “I’m going to use your bathroom.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

When he returned, she still had not come out of her room. “Mind if I make myself some coffee?”

“You know where everything is?” she yelled back through the door.

“Yup.” Not that it was difficult. She had one of those cheat machines: insert prepackaged coffee cup into machine and hit the button. Ready in under a minute. No one could ruin that. “You want a cup?”

“Yeah. I never made it into the coffee shop. They were closed.”

“Even the coffee shop had the good sense to stay home tonight,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I heard that,” she said, surprising him from behind.

“Which kind do you want?”

“Hazelnut, please.” She had changed into sweatpants, her typical Micah wear. Her makeup had been washed off, contacts removed and the familiar black-framed glasses were back in place. He could handle this; butterfly wings and leather leggings, not so much.

“Did you have dinner yet?”

“No.” His stomach took that moment to grumble, as if in response to her question. She heard and laughed. “Guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

“I’ll throw something together then. Let’s see what I’ve got here...hmm. Sabina has provided us with so many healthy options. Yuck. Stir-fry doesn’t sound too bad. What do you think?”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Here, slice these up.” She handed him zucchini, carrot and onion. “Cutting board’s under there.”

He stared at the vegetables in front of him, trying to figure out how to go about this task.

“So how’s Taylor?”

“Who?” Josh looked down at the onion. “You know I hate cutting onions. I hate them, period.”

“Oh, get over it. Stop being such a baby.” She spun to get something else out of the fridge. “And what do you mean, who? Taylor. Your girlfriend. Is that not her name?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He had forgotten about her. How could he not when he was in Micah’s presence?

“Did you forget you had a girlfriend?”

“No. She’s not my girlfriend. We just went out once or twice. I haven’t even really seen her since Hanna’s party.”

“Oh.”

Why did he just tell her that? He could have used Taylor as a buffer without Micah being any wiser.

He could not help but try to gauge her response, watching for any sign or hint as to how Taylor’s presence in his life affected her. She gave up nothing. This was ridiculous. They had been friends forever. He could not think of a person he trusted more. And what he was thinking about, what plagued him day and night, could easily ruin it all. It was not worth it.

“You want beef or chicken?”

She stood by the open refrigerator waiting for his response. But he could not think around her anymore.

“Josh? Are you all right? You seem off tonight.”

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Sorry. Beef.” This was going to be a long, long night.

“I didn’t really get a chance to talk to her the other night. What’s she like? Tell me about her...”

“She’s great. She, uh...likes Neil Diamond and stuff.”

“Mmm...she sounds very interesting. Where did you guys meet?”

“The firehouse.”

“She works with you?”

“No.” What was with the twenty questions? He didn’t want to answer questions about Taylor. Mainly because he did not know the answers. And talking to Micah about other girls was just strange.

“No?”

She would not stop until he answered her questions and her curiosity was satisfied.

“We put out a fire at her parents’ house two weeks ago.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah, you know, we’ve had fun together so far.”

“What? Singing ‘Sweet Caroline’?”

“No, we talk and hang out.”

“Already this is sounding better than Miss Just-Changing-the-Lightbulb.”

“Actually, she turned out to be Mrs. Just-Changing-the-Lightbulb.”

“She was married? And needed help changing a lightbulb?” She tossed him a judgmental glance over her shoulder, shaking her head. “You sure know how to pick them. But let me guess, this one is different, right?”

“Well, so far this girl knows how to change a lightbulb and knows how to get herself home in a snowstorm.”

“Ouch!” He loved the way her face lit up when she laughed. “Good one.”

“I try.”

He chopped and diced the vegetables as instructed while she started cooking. When he was finished with his given tasks, he leaned against the counter and held his coffee in one hand. Micah turned and gave him a quick once-over, laughter filling her eyes.

“What?”

“Your zipper is down.”

He looked down and sure enough, it was. He looked back up at her as she giggled. “It’s been down this whole time and you’re just now telling me? My eyes are up here, Micah. Let’s try and keep yours above my waist level.”

“Ha! Whatever! I was not checking you out.” Micah swatted at him with her spatula, but he was quick enough to duck out of its path. She countered with her other hand and there was no hope of escaping that one.

“You totally were, and you know it.” This was easier. More like how it used to be between them. He zipped up his pants and went back to his coffee.

They cooked in comfortable silence—at least, that was what it was supposed to be. Josh remained on edge, though. Each time she came close or accidentally brushed up against him, he tensed. He prayed she would not notice. He kept throwing out his typical jokes to keep her off his trail. If she caught on or noticed, she showed no sign or it.

* * *

“How is it coming?” She stretched to look over his shoulder to see his progress with the dinner. He had a lot of practice cooking for the guys at the firehouse and was pretty good at it. She was impressed. He might even be better than she was with all the slicing and dicing.

“I’m almost finished with all the veggies. The meat looks like it’s just about ready for the rest of the stuff.”

“You are right. It does look like it’s ready.” Micah armed herself with a spatula and got back to work.

Josh was acting a little weird. He was trying to cover it up, trying to act like normal, but she knew him better than that. Could he tell? Was she that easy to read?

She did want to be independent from him, to be able to function without needing him in every area of her life, but she didn’t want to lose his friendship altogether.

As she worried about the state of their relationship, she mindlessly stirred the ingredients in the hot pan on the stove top. “Can you pass me that jar of minced garlic?”

“Sure.”

He handed it to her and she scooped out some to add to the pan. With the open jar of garlic in one hand and the lid in the other, she quickly turned to return it to the fridge, attempting to close it midturn. When she whipped around in the small kitchen, she collided with Josh as he also tried to get to the fridge. The minced garlic in olive oil went all over his shirt as the jar dropped to the ground, shattering and covering the floor.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She shook her hand, trying to rid herself of the garlic clinging to her hand. It only made things worse, sending it flying in the air. “I am so sorry!”

They both lost it, laughing until they cried. It reeked around them, the smell of garlic filling the air. They began to pick up the large pieces of glass and made quick work of cleaning up the stinky mess. She washed her hands, knowing full well they would smell for days. Looking up at Josh for the first time since the incident, she was reminded of the mess she had made of his shirt.

“I’ve ruined your shirt!”

“It will be fine, I—”

“No. It’s not fine. You’ll never get the oil out. And the smell... Girls will stop talking to you altogether.”

“Maybe I want the girls to stop, anyway.”

“Yeah, right. I think I have one of your old Red Sox T-shirts...”

His eyebrow formed a perfect questioning arch.

“I stole it from you years ago. Get over it.”

She went in search of the T-shirt, digging through her drawers. Hopefully it wasn’t dirty. She liked sleeping in it. Thankfully, she found it clean and folded in a drawer.

She turned to head back to the kitchen only to find he had followed her into her room. He stood there just inside her doorway, ruined T-shirt in hand, chest bare.

Wow, did he fill up the place! She could not control her eyes from feasting on the expanse of tattooed skin.

She had been there when he had two of the tattoos done, but she did not remember reacting like this. Her fingers itched to trace the ink, especially the intricate design that covered the whole left side of his torso. And what a torso it was. She remembered the pain he had endured during that tattoo session, his grip tightening during moments of intense pain as she held his hand the entire time.

“Can I have the shirt or not?”

Oh, my gosh! She was still holding the T-shirt in her hand while staring at him like a desperate and starved woman. Quickly, she dropped her eyes to the floor, very much interested in the wood floors and their need of a good sweep.

She still hadn’t relinquished the shirt. This was getting embarrassing. She tossed it at him, but he still blocked the doorway. She was stuck, forced to watch him clothe himself.

What a shame to have to cover it all up, but if she wanted to keep her sanity it needed to happen.

Boy, was it hot in here! What was the thermostat on, anyway? His eyes connected with hers once more before he turned to leave the room.

“Thanks. You know what this means, though.”

“What?” She felt anxious, wondering what in the world would come from his mouth next. Had he noticed the way she had looked at him? What was he thinking? Her heart raced as she waited for his response.

“I’m taking my shirt back.”

She exhaled deeply. Giving up the shirt was easy enough; an awkward conversation about her gawking at him...not so much.

ELEVEN

Josh knew.

This was it. She was done for. She had been blatantly obvious in the way she stood there like a sex-starved crazy person when he took off his shirt earlier. How could she be so stupid?

He was acting even worse now than before. Of course, he was still trying hard to cover it up, acting so close to normal that a person watching them interact would not know something was up.

But she did.

Micah put on a movie, waiting for him to nix her choice, but he didn’t. Yup, something was up with him.

He sat at the opposite end of the couch, the farthest point away from her. He kept his focus on his plate, as if he was afraid the food would jump off or something. He was trying so hard to act normal, but it was just coming across all wrong. He didn’t want to be there with her. He didn’t want to show it, but she could see the truth.

She missed her friend. She missed how things used to be before Drew’s anniversary, before she screwed it up by getting drunk and kissing him. She had made things awkward between them. He didn’t like her like that, and didn’t know how to tell her.

Micah had hoped the funny movie would lighten things up, but half an hour into it he still hadn’t laughed or even broken a smile during any of the hilarious scenes.

If she had any hope of making it right between them, now was her chance. She had to decide now to either take a giant risk and explore these new emotions or she needed to lock them away forever and never look back.

As she chewed on her nails, contemplating this monstrous and high-stress decision, Josh lifted the remote and hit the stop button.

Her head snapped to attention. “What did you do that for?”

“You weren’t watching it.”

“Was, too.”

“Oh, stop. You weren’t and you know it. You were biting your nails and thinking about something. I can tell when something is bothering you, you know. Let’s talk.”

She gulped. “Okay...”

“What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing’s bothering me. I don’t know why you keep saying that. What’s bothering you?”

“You seriously aren’t going to talk to me about it?”

“How can I talk to you about it if I don’t even know what you are talking about?”

“Is it about Drew? You haven’t brought him up lately. Are you still having dreams about him?”

She was having difficulty swallowing around her heart lodged in her throat, the rhythmic beat of it pounding in her ears. If he only knew just what she had been dreaming about these days.

Drew still plagued her, but not as much as Josh now did. She was a work in progress, slowly working through her issues and taking it day by day. But she didn’t want to talk about Drew.

She wanted to touch him so bad it hurt. She had to go for it. There was so much to lose, but if she was going to go mad and ruin things regardless, she might at least give it a shot before that happened.

“Fine. I’ll talk.” Micah turned to face him, leaning back against the arm of the couch and extending her legs until her bare feet reached him. Her sweatpants had ridden up her legs as she slid them in his direction, exposing goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold. She wiggled her toes against his solid thigh. She took a deep, stabilizing breath. “My feet are cold, though. Will you hand me that blanket?”

Okay, so she wasn’t very good at playing the role of seductress.

“Where are your socks? You’ve got goose bumps, crazy girl.” He took hold of her feet and lifted them onto his lap, rubbing them briskly in an effort to warm them.

This was so silly. She felt ridiculous!

He grabbed a blanket from the basket next to the couch and draped it over her legs, carefully tucking it around her feet.

A caring and brotherly move.

Argh!

This was an epic fail.

“Do you think we’ll be friends forever, or do you ever wonder if we’re heading in different directions?” Why had she asked that? She just needed to give up now. “I mean, like the group of us. Sometimes I wonder how long this will last with all of us still being friends. I want it to last, but I wonder if it will. We all seem to want such different things in life.”

She was just rambling now. Nothing that came out of her mouth made any sense.

“Just because we all want something different or are maybe heading in different directions doesn’t mean we can’t still be there for each other. I know that you’ve been struggling lately with Drew’s anniversary. And I know that it seems like none of us care anymore. It probably worries you that he was the only thing that held us all together, and if we move on from him then we all fall apart. But I don’t think that will happen. He may have brought us all together, but he isn’t what holds us together.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I think it’s the same with any relationship. You’ve got to make the conscious decision that no matter where you are in life, you make time for the ones who matter most. You put in the effort and make it work.”

But what about us? “Will you always make time for me, Josh?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?”

“Actually, I was contemplating a best friend upgrade, but since you’re getting all serious on me, I’ll pass and let you stick around.”

“Gee, thanks. Always knew I could count on you.”

“But seriously...” He grabbed her ankles and pulled her close to him so that her legs draped over his lap. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close. “I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

Temptress she was not. Best friend forever was the more appropriate title.

* * *

The moment he pulled her onto his lap he knew he had made a huge mistake. Her legs were draped over his lap, her head on his chest. He had one arm wrapped around her while the other was inching closer to dangerous territory. He let his hand relax as it hung over her upper thigh, but if he moved it a centimeter he would be touching her. It would be too easy to drag his hand up, to explore the forbidden peaks and valleys of her beautiful form.

Amid the comfort of her in his arms, his body and mind battled it out. He wanted to pull her against him, kiss her senseless, show her all that had been culminating within him. But he knew it was wrong. He knew he should push her back to her side of the couch, a safe distance between them.

He pressed play on the remote and the movie started where they had left off. Against his better judgment—which was how he did things these days, apparently—he draped the blanket over the both of them to fight off the chill of the long, cold, wintry night they had ahead of them. They remained nestled on the couch, neither of them moving from their positions, warm and snuggled together. The fierce wind blew hard and hail pinged against the windowpane, but he wasn’t paying any attention.

“Sorry for being so difficult lately.” She spoke quietly against his chest. He could almost feel her words more than he could hear them, the vibration moving through his chest. She lifted her face to look at him, her eyes bright and full of an emotion he couldn’t distinguish. She’d always been like that: felt too hard, loved too much.

“What are you talking about?”

“The last couple of months. You know, first with the depression. I was so needy. Then with the... Well, anyway. I’ve just been a pain. Maybe I’ve been that way for years.... I don’t know how you’ve put up with me for so long.”

“You haven’t been that bad.”

What she was going through was normal and could be justified. He, however, had no excuse for his behavior.

“You’re a liar, but thank you. I’m hoping this is the end of it, though. I think I’m finally ready to move on.”

“And are you? Moving on?”

“Sometimes I feel like I have moved on. Then other days, it seems difficult to let go. Two steps forward, one step back. And every time I feel this sense of guilt for even trying to move forward.”

“I know what you mean.” He knew exactly what she meant.

“You do?”

“Yes. It feels like you’re dishonoring him and his memory.”

“Exactly.” Her response was a whisper on his neck.

She leaned into him, her face buried in his neck. Her lips innocently came in contact with the skin just below his ear. Electricity coursed through him as his hold on her tightened. He closed his eyes, praying sanity would return.

Focus on the subject at hand. Something platonic. Focus on Drew. Or your mother!

That worked.

He thought about the important things. Micah considered him to be her safety and he took the job seriously. He would make sure she always felt secure with him. The images that ran through his mind threatened that in every way possible. He’d begun to recite it to himself, a mantra of sorts: Drew’s girl. Drew’s girl.

“I think I’ve always felt guilty for living, guilty for turning him away that night, for ignoring my instincts and letting him drive in that storm. I didn’t feel like I deserved to live life, much less a happy life.”

Her words hit too close to home. His own guilt was overwhelming. He could take hers away in an instant, but he would lose her just as fast. She would hate him if she knew the truth. She would never forgive him. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. It was just his time to go.”

“Yeah. I think I’ve finally figured that out. And that we honor his memory best by living a life he would be proud of. You know he always lived life to the fullest. He would expect the same from me.”

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, but his mind was far from quiet. He kept thinking about what she had said about Drew wanting them to live life to the fullest. Part of him wanted to believe Drew would have supported anything that made Micah happy. But what if he couldn’t make her happy?

He had never wanted anything more from a woman than a casual relationship. He’d never allowed anything deeper to happen between him and someone else. What if he wasn’t capable of a long-term commitment? What if he hurt her? Josh didn’t want to believe that he would ever intentionally do that to Micah, but why risk it?

None of it mattered, anyway. He was wasting brainpower just thinking about it. At the end of the day, Josh knew the truth about Drew’s wishes. Nothing could ever, ever happen between him and Micah. The end.

The movie credits began to roll, but Josh couldn’t move. He didn’t want to. Micah’s deep and steady breathing told him she had fallen asleep on his chest. She felt so right. He wanted to hold his breath so as not to disturb her. It felt natural to have her there, fitting so well next to him. It was as if he had been made just to hold her like this.

His emotions were running ragged. Recently, there had been times he felt so angry at her, at this situation and her inability to move on from Drew. But he loved her deeply and the moment she looked up at him with her warm coffee-colored eyes, his anger dissipated.

But more often than not, there were moments, moments he was ashamed of, moments of pure lust that should never have happened. She didn’t belong to him. She never would.

Sitting here any longer would be detrimental to his state of mind. He really should carry her to her bedroom and leave her there, safely ensconced behind a locked door.

But instead he found himself carefully readjusting them so he could slide down further into the couch. There was enough room for him to swing his legs up onto the cushion as he maneuvered himself into a lying-down position.

Micah began to move, but did not wake. Her own legs extended along his as she made herself more comfortable beside him. Her body flush against his own. He didn’t care how wrong this was. It felt too right.

As he lay there with her in his arms, his mind kept drifting back to the tattoo he had briefly seen earlier. It was covered up now and there was no way he would be able to sneak a peek without waking her. It was a mystery to him. Why couldn’t he figure it out?

The heart was unique. It wasn’t what you would normally think of when considering a heart tattoo. It was the kind of heart you used when texting someone—a less-than sign with the number three. It formed a heart with textspeak, but why get it as a tattoo?

Then suddenly a thought came to mind. Could it be?

No. He quickly erased the thought from his mind. It was all just wishful thinking and nothing more.

Something caught his eye on the coffee table—a small stack of papers, nothing out of the ordinary. However, Drew’s name stuck out at the bottom of a yellowish piece of paper, half-hidden in the pile of receipts.

Curiosity drove him to reach for it, careful not to wake Micah.

The words were hard to read in the dim evening light, but he strained to make them out. It was a love letter from Drew, and just the kick he needed in order to regain some clarity.

* * *

Micah woke some time during the night, the howling wind rousing her from a deep sleep. It took a moment for the fuzziness to fade and for her to realize just where she was sleeping, or rather, on whom she was sleeping.

She lifted her head from her place of comfort on Josh’s chest. His breathing remained steady, a light snore escaping from his slightly opened mouth. Her legs were tangled with his as they lay entwined on the couch.

Having been best friends for so long, there had always been a level of comfort and physical affection between them, but never had she found herself in such an intimate position with him.

Her hand moved on its own accord down his chest and over his tight stomach, feeling the rippling of his hard muscles beneath the softness of his T-shirt. Her hands wanted to explore more, but her mind wouldn’t let them. She couldn’t accost him in his sleep. What kind of girl did something like that?

Heat warmed her cheeks, hoping he wasn’t aware of her wanton behavior as he slept peacefully. Carefully, she tried to separate herself from him without waking him, moving to the chair across from the couch.

Her eyes roamed over his sleeping form. She could see the stubble on his face in the moonlight. He typically kept a shadow of a beard, tamed but not clean-shaven. It was approaching slightly scruffy and it looked good on him. Masculine. Her fingertips yearned to reach out and feel his prickly jawline.

Micah had always wondered what stubble would feel like scraping against the softness of her own skin. Drew was so long ago, but he had always preferred a close shave. She had imagined it in her dream, but wanted to feel it for real. Just once.

His chest moved up and down in a calming rhythm as she watched, troubled by her numerous thoughts. He was such a great friend, probably even too good.

Over the years, her refusal to face her grief head-on had forced her to carry some serious baggage whether she had been aware of it or not. Her grief and pain had weighed her down like concrete set about her feet, keeping her from actually experiencing life. She had become accustomed to the weight, not fully aware of the burden it had become.

She was aware of it now. Josh had carried her the whole time, bearing the brunt of it for her. She had taken advantage of him, grown accustomed to his support. Never once had he allowed her feet to touch the ground. Never once had he insinuated that she was a burden to him. He just lovingly and willingly carried her.

Like light filling a darkened room, realization dawned on her. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have been so blind? She didn’t know when it had happened, exactly, but somewhere, at some point, something had happened. It hadn’t just escalated from friendship to lust. What she felt was far more intense.

Micah had fallen in love...with Josh. Once she faced the truth of it, it was all so clear. She was in love with Josh. Maybe she had always been in love with him. The knowledge both scared her and excited her. Overwhelmed her with the sudden thought of what happened next. Now that she had this new piece of information, it would change everything. She didn’t want anything to change. Then again...maybe she did.

What was she thinking?

There was no way she could tell Josh about this newfound discovery. She would lose him for sure. He would never feel for her what she felt for him. This love had to stay hidden. Her relationship with Josh had always been enough before. It would still be enough.

There was no way she could go back to sleep now. Looking at the clock, she knew she had at least two more hours before daylight. She leaned back in the chair and pulled a blanket around her.

It was just too easy to keep looking at Josh as he slept. She felt like a creeper, but at the moment she didn’t care. Her eyes couldn’t pull away. It seemed such an intimate moment to be alone with him in the middle of the night, to see him asleep, the moonlight caressing his face.

* * *

Micah needed to find something to do if she couldn’t sleep, because staring at Josh wasn’t going to work. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she tiptoed to the bathroom.

She lowered the cover to the toilet seat and sat down and reached for a magazine. “How to Please Your Man” was plastered on the front cover. Thoughts filled her mind. Warmth crept up her neck and filled her cheeks. She placed a cold hand on her face to suppress the overwhelming heat taking over. She threw the magazine back down. Bad idea.

She reached for another, much tamer magazine. This was the longest night ever. The close proximity was killing her. Flipping off the light, she tiptoed back through the living room and toward the kitchen. Would she be able to make some tea without waking him?

She filled the teakettle with water and placed it on the burner. Then turned on the stove top and reached for a mug.

“Can’t sleep?”

She almost dropped the mug. Spinning at the sound of his voice, she could barely see him in the darkness of the kitchen. “You could warn a girl instead of sneaking up on her.”

“Not as much fun.”

Boy, did he sound good with his early-morning sleepy voice.

Focus, Micah. Focus.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but it’s no biggie.” There was that voice again. Don’t ask him any more questions.

“Sorry. I’m making some tea. Do you want some?”

“Sure.”

Josh leaned against the kitchen wall while the water boiled. Why was it that water took so long to boil?

His hair was tousled and T-shirt rumpled. It would be so easy to take two steps and stand in front of him, rest her hands at his waist and lean into him. The way he stood practically invited her to do it. She would just have to take two steps. That’s all that separated them.

She couldn’t do it, though. It would ruin everything.

The hiss of the teapot caused her to jump. She turned to reach for it at the same time he did.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“I can get it.”

Their hands brushed up against each other, their bodies so close. She looked up at him. He looked down at her. Something in his gaze was different—fiery, full of desire.

Her eyes dropped to his lips, but the moment she realized what she had done, she knew she should turn her eyes away. Look anywhere else but at him, at his lips.

She couldn’t. His tongue peeked out, quickly wetting his lips.

It happened before she even realized it was happening. She wasn’t even sure if she moved first or if he did, but somehow she found her lips against his and it felt good. It was hesitant at first, slowly building. He knew what he was doing, whereas Micah...had been out of practice for a while...a long while.

Gently he backed her up until she felt the solidity of rough brick behind her. She was trapped between a wall and an immovable man. Never before had the thought of confinement been so enticing.

A heavenly rush swept through her body as his hands traveled down her sides, gripping her hips. His kiss was demanding, bruising. The rough edges of the brick wall scratched against the delicate skin of her back as his body leaned heavily against her. His fingertips dug into her flesh as he pulled her closer to him, deepening the kiss.

The intense push and pull didn’t end with him. She gave back just as much. Her greedy hands slid under his shirt, fingers splayed on his strong, broad back. Desire caused her to sink her nails into his skin as she held on for dear life.

His large hands slid down her hips and gripped her thighs, lifting her up and setting her down on the kitchen counter. His hands remained on her thighs as she pulled him in closer to her. She arched her back, needing as much of her to touch as much of him as possible.

“Micah.” The way he spoke her name, with such reverence, such passion, stirred her deep within.

“Say it again.”

TWELVE

“Micah.”

She woke in a full-body sweat. Again. She pushed damp strands of hair back from her face and threw the cover off her body. Pulling herself up from the chair she had slept in, she noticed the couch across from her was vacant.

It had only been a dream.

She released the deep breath she had been holding. Thank God.

“Micah, you want any coffee?”

She padded to the kitchen in her slippers, the smell of coffee permeating the air. Josh looked just as he had in the dream. Her fingers tingled, itched to touch him, to run through his tousled hair, to reenact the dream still vivid in her mind.

She curled her fingers into a tight fist, bringing the errant tingling into submission. Control yourself, woman!

“Coffee?” Oh, his voice even sounded like she had imagined, all gravelly and rough with sleep.

“Yes, please.” She sat on the barstool at the kitchen counter. He turned and set a cup of hot coffee in front of her, but avoided eye contact. That was fine with her. She couldn’t have him analyzing her and finding out about her late-night musings. Her thoughts were never safe with the way he read her like a book.

“I’m gonna start clearing off my truck, then we can go pick up your car. We may have to dig it out, though.”

“Okay. I’ll get dressed.”

Ten minutes later she found Josh outside, meticulously removing all evidence of snow from his truck. She wouldn’t dare offer to help. He never let anyone touch his baby. She jumped into the cab and waited for him.

When they pulled up to the coffee-shop parking lot, her car was barely visible. It appeared to be more a giant mound of snow than a vehicle.

“This is going to be fun.” Josh parked the truck and looked over at her. “You ready?”

“As ready as I will ever be.”

* * *

Josh couldn’t believe she didn’t remember. He had walked on eggshells all morning, waiting for the awkward conversation that never came.

He looked over at her. Micah softly hummed to herself as she was hard at work on the one side of her car while he tackled the other side.

They had to shovel around the car just to get close to it. Despite the frigid temperature, Josh had worked up quite a sweat. Slowly but surely they were uncovering her little car.

He looked up at her again. She really was oblivious to what had happened last night.

Josh had woken to the sound of her walking around the apartment. It had been dark, but he’d found her in the kitchen, where she appeared to be making tea. But tea never happened.

Still in a sleepy haze, he hadn’t been able to control himself and apparently neither had she. The heated make-out session had annihilated any semblance of control he thought he still possessed. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected her to be so responsive to him.

Her uninhibited passion in all of its blinding glory was far more beautiful than his finite imagination could ever have made up.

And she didn’t remember a thing about it. Had she been sleepwalking? Or was it sleep kissing? Oh, God. If that was how she kissed in her sleep, he wouldn’t be able to handle a kiss with her fully awake and not drunk.

Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. If she didn’t remember and had truly been unaware of what transpired between them, then there was no harm done. If he could just go on as though it had never happened, she would never know.

Micah must have pushed the scraper a little too hard, because it slipped and sent snow flying into the air in his direction. He tried to duck out of its path, but failed, getting hit on the side of his face.

He couldn’t pass up this opportunity. He reached down, grabbed some snow and shot back up, tossing a snowball right at her.

“Hey! We are trying to clean off the car, not put more back on it!” She countered with a snowball that just missed his shoulder.

“You started it.”

Snowballs went flying through the air, rapid-fire. He threw then dodged, accidentally nailing her in the head once or twice. He felt a small pang of guilt, but got over it quickly. She would survive.

Micah hid behind the car, attempting to make as much ammunition as she could, but he was onto her. He quietly crept around the car. And as he peeked from behind the trunk, he could see her stand abruptly and fire one toward where he had been standing. She stood on her tiptoes to see if she could find him. He took the opportunity, lunged from the rear of the car and tackled her into the snow.

A spark of heat jolted him as he fell to the ground on top of her. Her body was warm beneath his, a stark contrast to the icy, wet snow that engulfed them. His face was mere inches from hers. It had started to snow again, and tiny snowflakes floated all around her.

He watched as they slowly came to rest on her hair, forming a halo about her. He was entranced by the sight of her. His mouth moved on its own accord, without permission from his mind. Lower. Lower still. Until he could taste the cotton candy lips that beckoned him.

Sweet heaven!

His entire body chose to rebel against his mind’s clear commands—hands off! His hands didn’t want to obey. They wanted to touch. His mouth wanted to consume. He wanted more. He needed more. She had turned him into a glutton—for punishment or pleasure, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

Her lips moved in hungry response. Her fingers pushed past his hat and combed through his hair. His own hands moved to touch more, but instead of the hot flesh he was expecting, he got a handful of snow, dousing the fire immediately.

Josh jumped to his feet. “I am so sorry, Mike. I don’t know what came over me.”

So much for being in the clear about last night. You weren’t supposed to repeat the performance. That ominous pit in his stomach returned with vengeance. Guilt and betrayal consumed him. When would he finally learn? The last time he’d allowed himself to get this out of control, this unguarded with Micah, horrible, unthinkable things had happened. And she had paid the price. He couldn’t do it.

He could tell she was still lying in the snow, but he refused to turn. He didn’t want to see the shocked expression on her face. He returned to the task at hand and cleaned off the remainder of her car as quickly as he could, fully aware of her movements as she finally stood and brushed herself off.

Josh was so disgusted with himself. He ran a rough hand over the back of his neck. He needed to get out of here. Pretend this never, ever happened.

* * *

Micah was a mess.

Her drunken kiss with Josh could be laughed off as a moment of stupidity fueled by too much tequila. Her dreams, which were so hot she feared her sheets would catch fire, could be ignored. Okay, maybe not ignored, but at least kept hidden from anyone and everyone.

But it was something else entirely when she kissed him in broad daylight in an empty parking lot without any excuse or hope of explanation. There had been no tequila to blame it on this time.

She couldn’t erase from her mind the look of disgust evident on his face when he’d jumped up to get far away from her. The thought made her sick. She had made an utter fool of herself in front of the most important person in her life.

Tears pooled in her eyes before overflowing and streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, Mikey. What’s wrong?”

Micah hadn’t even realized Sabina was home. She looked up at Sabina’s concerned expression.

“Is it Drew?”

Why did everyone always assume it was Drew? Sure, she still missed him. And in moments like these she missed him more than usual—not him personally, but the idea of him. It was easier to be part of a couple. You didn’t have to go through as much heartbreak, like what she was experiencing now.

“You know what? There’s something I need to go do.”

“Okay...you want me to come with you?”

“No. I need to do this one on my own.” Micah jumped up and headed to the door, grabbing her phone and purse off the counter.

“Call me if you need me.”

* * *

It took a lot of courage. She had been fighting it for weeks, debating whether or not it was a good idea. But she gave in. It was something that had to be done. She had no hope of moving on until she did this.

She pulled her car slightly off the narrow drive to allow other cars to pass if they happened to come this way. She parked right in front of the sign that read Devotion and stepped out into the brisk wind.

It was a cold and dreary day. The skies were dark and gray, the clouds heavy with the possibility of rain. The weather fit the occasion.

Micah walked through the grass, up a slight hill. Her footsteps weaved a path between headstones and grave markers. The names were all familiar to her, but only because it was a path she had traveled many times.

Lowering herself to the ground, she swiped her hand across the cold, hard surface of his headstone. Her fingers gently traced each curve in his name. Stretching out, she laid her head in the grass next to the stone. It was something she had done many times before. She used to spend hours here, talking to the stone as if it could hear, as if it had a direct line to Drew’s ear. She had always been so desperate for a connection. Something. Anything.

Micah had something to say to him now, and this had been the only place she could think of to do it. It seemed appropriate for a final goodbye. The last few months had been rough. She had gone from one extreme to the other, trying to find a middle ground with her emotions.

It was time—time to let it all go.

She inhaled deeply, breathing in the cool air, allowing it to calm her tumultuous heart. The ground below her was cold and hard, but she remained there, wanting to be close to him one last time.

“Drew...” She spoke out loud to nothing but marble. “I’ve decided that it’s time I let you go. I don’t want to be in denial any longer or remain captive to memories of you. I don’t want to feel this anger and bitterness or this pain and loss anymore. Instead, I choose to accept the fact that you are gone. That that chapter of my life is long over and it’s time to look forward. I want to remember the good. You were a good man and you were good to me. I want to think back on you as a fond memory. I’ve loved you for most of my life and I know a part of me always will. But it’s time. I need to move on and make some new memories of my own.”

She stayed there for a moment longer, letting it all sink in. She sat up, ran her hand across his name one more time. “Goodbye, Drew.”

Rain began to fall, soft at first. It splashed on her cheek and mingled with her tears. She felt it glide down her face and drop to her chest. It was silly, but she had always considered rain to be a sign from the heavens. It was as if Drew was responding, letting her go, finally.

She stood there in a place of previous devotion and let the rain envelop her. Turning her face up to the sky, she allowed the drops to cleanse her of the wreckage and the grief that had consumed her.

Peace. She felt peace.

* * *

Feeling lighter than she had in years, Micah headed home. Of course, she hadn’t solved all her problems, but at least she was free of the burden that had weighed her down for so long.

As she walked in the door, Sabina must have noticed the bounce in her step, too. “Well, whatever errand you just ran must have helped.”

“Yes. It did.”

“Good.”

Micah’s phone chirped. Incoming text message.

Can we pretend this morning never happened?

It was from Josh. That was easy for him to say. Her phone chirped again.

I don’t know what happened. I’m the worst friend ever. Forgive me?

Should she just go with it, pretend she hadn’t gotten a small taste of heaven this morning? If she did it might rescue their quickly sinking friendship. If she didn’t, would she be saying goodbye to him, too?

“Hey, Jamie will be here in, like, an hour. Wants to do coffee if you want to come.” Sabina interrupted her thoughts.

“Um, yeah. Sure.”

She looked back down at Josh’s text, torn.

One goodbye was enough for today.

All’s forgiven and forgotten. Don’t even know what you are talking about.

Her phone signaled another message.

You’re the best <3

An hour later she sat at a table surrounded by her friends in their favorite little coffee shop.

“Did Josh have to work?” Hanna asked as she blew on her steaming cup of coffee.

“Yeah. He got called in at the last minute.” Leave it to Micah to be the only one who knew Josh’s comings and goings. Did anyone see the oddity in that? She was mortified if so. No one needed to know the feelings she now possessed. They were to remain under lock and key.

“What a shame. I haven’t seen him since the party.”

“Well, with your schedule it’s no wonder you get to see anyone.”

“You’re right. But I can’t slow down now. I am finally getting somewhere with my career. I can slow down when I’m dead.”

Micah took a tentative sip of her coffee.

“Hey, what did you guys think of Josh’s new girlfriend?”

Micah almost choked. Leave it to Sabina to go there.

“Her name is Taylor.” Jamie, leaning back against the window, spoke casually, as if the one statement were self-explanatory.

“So?” The three girls all looked at one another in puzzlement.

“So...if they get married she would be Taylor Taylor.”

They all broke out in laughter, Micah forcing a laugh so as not to stand out. It was a little funny to think about, if she ignored the part about him getting married.

“I don’t think anyone has to worry about that.” Hanna waved a hand dismissively. “He goes through women just as often as Sabina goes through men.”

“Hey, that hurts.” Sabina swatted at her.

Jamie ignored them. “Are you sure? She’s different. She seems more like the type he could settle down with. She seemed really sweet, unlike most of the women he dates.”

Micah sat quietly as her friends, unaware of her rising panic, talked around her. Was Josh really serious about this girl? It was one thing to say she would be okay with a lifetime of friendship. She didn’t want to sit on the sidelines secretly in love with her best friend while watching him fall for someone else. It would be torture to watch him marry and build a life with another woman.

Her friends continued to talk about the girls in Josh’s past, starting with the ones they’d disliked the most. There was the model, the doctor, the cheerleader, the makeup artist...oh, and they didn’t forget the pageant queen!

As if she needed to be reminded again of just how little chance she had of being the object of his desire.

Micah slammed her cup down on the table, effectively ending the conversation. Three sets of eyes snapped to attention.

“Hanna, what was that guy’s name? The one you introduced me to at the party?” Micah needed to move on from Josh, too. She couldn’t take a giant step forward in one area of her life only to remain where she felt most comfortable in another area. She had wasted enough of her life stuck in the past. It was time to live.

“Heck, yeah! Mr. Tall Drink of Water!” Sabina bounced in her chair.

“Cameron?” Hanna looked puzzled by the quick change in conversation.

“Yes. Him. You still have his number?”

“Sure.”

“He’s still single, right?”

“You met him a week ago. He was single then. I’m almost positive he’ll still be single this week.”

“Good.”

She had shocked all of them. They knew she was trying to move on, but they hadn’t expected this any more than she had.

THIRTEEN

“When does Cameron get here?”

Sabina leaned against the bathroom door as Micah put on the finishing touches to her makeup. Micah could see it in her eyes, she was evaluating her outfit and judging whether it was dateworthy enough. Well, Micah liked the way she looked and that was all that mattered.

“He should be here any minute now.”

“Where is he taking you?”

“We are going out to dinner. I’m not sure where.” She opened her eyes wide to apply the last coat of mascara, her mouth opening as well. She found it humorous that her mouth always opened when she applied eye makeup. It made no sense whatsoever.

“Here, wear these.”

Sabina held out a pair of giant turquoise earrings. They were beautiful, but they weren’t her. No use putting up a false front with this guy. She wasn’t Sabina and never would be. From here on out, she would wear what she wanted and do what she wanted and no longer allow people to make decisions for her, regardless of how much she loved them.

“No. I think I prefer these.”

“Suit yourself.”

Yes. It did suit her. Micah. The one and only.

It felt good to be herself, to actually know who she was for the first time in, like...well, ever.

Micah glanced at her phone for the zillionth time that day. No new messages. Each time she looked, her heart broke a little more. It shouldn’t. She should be past this by now. She had come to accept his friendship and nothing more. But part of her had hoped he would call, hoped he would hear about her date and rush in to stop her. Apparently, she had watched one too many chick flicks.

She gave herself a final look in her full-length mirror. She had bought a new dress just for tonight. When she saw it in the store, she had to have it. She had seen something like it in a magazine; a celebrity had worn it to an event and had everyone talking. It was a new look they called color blocking—the dress itself was black, but curved white inserts in the center front and center back gave the illusion of a smaller and much curvier shape. The moment she tried it on, she had felt sexier than ever before. It was unbelievable just how one dress could transform how she viewed herself.

She had painstakingly flat-ironed her hair, a rare occurrence for her riotous curls. This date was special, the first date in ten years that she was actually going to give a chance. She felt it was deserving of the added effort.

There was a knock at the door. Her stomach churned with nervous first-date jitters. This had to be a severe case. Sabina answered and let him in. “Micah, Cameron’s here.”

As if she couldn’t hear him from her room five feet away from the front door. Silly girl. He was wearing a sharp gray suit. Not the typical business suit, though, it was more tailored, as though he had just stepped from the pages of an Express catalog or something. He looked good in it, too. His dark hair was styled nicely with pomade.

“You look nice.” His face broke out into a big grin when she walked in.

“Thank you.” It had been too long since a guy had smiled like that because of her. And it was even better with Sabina standing next to her.

She really needed to get over her insecurity of being near Sabina. They were both different and unique and beautiful in their own ways. And Micah had a lot to offer! It was about time she figured that out.

“Ready?”

Oh, jeez. This was nerve-racking. Could she survive this night? The last minute second-guessing commenced. Should she even go? She gazed up at his smiling, kind and well-groomed face. Heck, yeah! “Yes.”

“Have fun, kids.” Sabina waved like a fool as they walked into the hallway. How embarrassing. Micah rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh. Sabina would get it later.

He opened the door to his silver BMW. Chivalrous. She took note of that. All her life she had surrounded herself with guys who knew how to treat a lady. She wouldn’t settle for less. Calm down there, Micah. No one is asking you to settle down just yet.

He took her to a beautiful restaurant in downtown Boston, one she would never be able to afford. She had always looked at it with wonder, hoping to sample the fine dining it had to offer one day.

Now that she actually walked through the front doors and was given a seat at a highly sought-after table, she felt out of place. It was too nice for her. She wasn’t sure how to act, but Cameron put her at ease. He wasn’t uppity or snobby, just normal and easygoing, easy to talk to. Conversation flowed naturally between the two of them.

They talked about his work, in the same offices where Hanna worked. He asked about the job she was about to start and seemed interested in it. She found out he came from a large family in Missouri, of all places. She had been wondering about his strange accent, but didn’t want to say anything because he would only tease her about hers. The Boston accent was difficult to cover up.

Everything was going so well. She felt happy. She felt confident. She no longer thought about her insecurities or where she fell short.

She felt like the old Micah, or better yet, a new Micah. A brand-new, never-before-seen version of herself. And it felt great. She smiled as she thought about how far she had come in such a short time.

“What? Did I say something?” Cameron’s question broke through her musings. She had forgotten about him for a moment.

Oops.

“Oh, sorry. No. Nothing you said. Just a silly thought. Nothing, really. My apologies. What were you saying?”

“I was just talking about Boston sports.”

“Ooh, love ’em.”

“I was saying how I didn’t get into them.”

“Are you serious?”

He laughed. “Yes.”

“How can this be? How can you live in Boston and not enjoy all the sports we have to offer? We have the best of everything all rolled into one fine city.”

“It’s easy. I just don’t.”

“I’m floored. There’s not a single sport you get into? We’ve got it all.”

He shook his head, laughing at her reaction.

“Well, what kind of sports do you play in Missouri?”

“I don’t know. I never got into sports there, either.”

“You, sir, are quite the enigma. I just never knew it was possible.”

“Since you obviously feel differently than I do, what sports do you watch?”

“I watch them all. My friends try to all get together to have game days or game nights, whatever the sport. We’re watching football right now, obviously.”

“You get together for every game?”

“Yeah, we try to at least. It happens most of the time. It’s easy for some of us, but poor Jamie lives outside the city, so he has quite a drive every week. But he’s faithful.”

“You guys sound like an episode of Friends.”

“Ha, you’re right! We do! Although none of us has slept together...that I know of, anyway.”

They both laughed for a moment as the waiter came to serve their food and refill their wine.

As he walked her to her door later that night, her mind was racing. Her heartbeat quickened when he bent. Thankfully, his lips landed on her cheek and not her lips.

As she closed the door, she couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her. They’d had fun. They had enjoyed their time together. He was great-looking, unbelievably kind and intelligent. What more could she want?

She wanted butterflies. Not just predate jitters. Was that crazy? Was she being stupid? Too picky?

“Hey. How did it go?” Sabina was waiting for her on the couch. It was actually quite cute since it was such a role reversal—Sabina was typically out every night, so staying in to wait to hear how her friend’s date went was something new for her. “Come sit down. Tell me everything. I want to know all the juicy details.”

“It went well.” Micah put down her purse, took off her jacket and sat down on the couch.

“Do you think he’ll ask you out on a second date?”

“Maybe.”

“And would you say yes to a second date?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That didn’t sound very convincing. What was wrong? He was cute. He seemed really nice. I know for a fact he has a great job. Does he have some kind of weird fetish or does he eat with his mouth open?”

“What? No. Neither of those things.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. Just something wasn’t right.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“For going out and taking this giant step, this leap into a world you’ve let pass you by for far too long. You’ll find someone eventually. I know you will. You have too much to offer someone.”

* * *

Why were her friends always so hard to find when she really needed them? She needed someone to talk to, and she would prefer Sabina. Where was she, anyway?

Micah paced the living room. She was in desperate need of advice, and no one was around to give it to her. Hanna was too caught up in her blissfully happy wedding plans. Jamie was busy. And Josh...well, Josh was the one she needed advice about. She couldn’t very well ask him about him.

She had been foolish to believe one date with someone else could cure her of the feelings that had slowly been developing over the course of a decade. She just needed to talk to someone about it. Keeping it hidden from everyone was only making it worse. If she didn’t vent about it soon, she’d explode.

She pulled out her phone and sent Sabina a quick text.

Where are you?

Sabina texted back right away.

I’m at the movies with Jordan.

It would be at least two hours before she came home. Micah didn’t know if she could wait that long. She could just text Sabina about her problem. That would work.

No. Bad idea.

She put her phone down on the table and walked away. Maybe a shower would help put things in perspective. It was quite possible she might be able to solve her own predicament.

One long, hot shower later and she was still nowhere closer to an answer to her problem. She pulled her robe tight around her as she picked up her phone, once again debating whether to go ahead and text Sabina or not. The familiar ping sounded, signifying a new message. Josh.

Guess who’s playing at House of Blues this weekend.

For days she had longed for some form of communication from this man and now was the time he chose?

Ah! She needed Sabina’s advice and she couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t keep ignoring the Josh situation. So she grabbed a hold of her phone and started typing.

Bina, I don’t know what to do. I need to talk to you and I don’t think I can wait until you get home. Ah! I think I have feelings for Josh. Like falling-in-love feelings. Like more-than-friends feelings. What should I do?

She hit the send button, the zip sound echoing in the quiet apartment. It was the first time she had “voiced” the words. It made her nervous to admit it to anyone other than herself. It made it real. Her eyes scanned the text again.

No! No! No!

There, at the top of the text message where Sabina’s name should be prominently displayed was another name entirely. The one and only name she had been purposely avoiding. She had accidentally sent the message to Josh! There was no way she could talk herself out of this one. No way to retrieve it now, either.

Making sure she was actually texting Sabina this time, she typed out the words Emergency! Get home now! Pushing the phone away, she sat at a distance, staring at it. Had he read it yet?

It rang, her heart stopped, her breathing coming in short frantic breaths. She inched toward the phone, the happy jingle sounding shrill to her ears.

Sabina. Thank God. She hit the accept button.

“Micah, are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need to call 911?” Sabina’s words came out in a panicked rush.

“It’s not a 911 emergency. It’s a friend emergency. It’s awful! I don’t know what to do! I think I just ruined everything! Actually, I know I just ruined everything!”

“Okay. Slow down. What are you talking about?”

“I needed advice so I was going to text you and ask you what I should do.”

“Then ask me.”

“Well, see, it’s more than that.... See, I think I’m falling in love with Josh.”

“Oh...my...gosh...”

“It gets worse. I accidentally texted him instead of you.”

“What did the text say?”

“It said just that—that I was falling in love with him. What am I going to do? I am so embarrassed! I don’t think I can recover from this. You may need to start looking for a new roommate, because I’m gonna have to move out of state.”

“Okay. I’m heading home now, but he’ll probably call you or text you before I get there.”

“I can’t talk to him right now! I was texting you to find out how to handle this.” The emotion was overwhelming; she couldn’t control the tears as they fell down her cheeks. “I’m not ready to talk to him yet. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this conversation.”

“Just ignore him until I get home. That way I’ll be there to hold your hand when you do take his call.”

“What have I done?”

“Stop getting yourself so worked up. Make yourself some tea and just sit tight until I get there.”

Micah hung up the phone and went about making some chamomile tea as Sabina had suggested.

Josh still hadn’t responded. Either he hadn’t received it or he was in shock and didn’t know how to respond. She had really messed this one up badly. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The tea did nothing to calm her. She kept putting her phone down, just to pick it up again. No new messages. The stress of it all was going to be the death of her.

Knock. Knock.

FOURTEEN

Micah’s body went rigid. Sabina had a key. It was her apartment. She wouldn’t knock. Micah knew who it was and the thought of answering the door made her start to sweat. She could ignore it.

“Micah?” He yelled through the door, confirming her suspicion. She remained frozen, hoping he would go away.

“Micah, I know you’re in there. I saw your light on.”

She could have left her light on. It didn’t mean she was here.

“We need to talk. Please, just let me in.”

Go away!

“I can just talk through the door if you prefer. Not sure if your neighbors will be too happy about that, though.”

Her neighbors would hate it. Besides, it was none of their business.

“Micah, please. I need to talk to you. I need to see your face.”

She couldn’t help herself, peeking through the door’s peephole. He looked the way she felt. He ran his hand through his hair, which looked as though it had seen better days. She rested her forehead on the cold door, letting out a deep breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. She couldn’t face him. She just couldn’t do it.

“I can hear you breathing and can see the shadow of your feet. Please. Just open the door.”

Her hand rested on the cool metal of the doorknob. She couldn’t face him, but couldn’t help responding to him, either. “You weren’t supposed to get that.”

“I gathered that much.”

“I’m so sorry, Josh.”

“Open the door, Micah. Sorry for what?”

“For ruining everything. I’ve messed it all up.” She turned the knob and slowly opened the door, standing back to let him in.

“Micah.” His eyes brimmed with pain and indecision. She knew whatever words came out of his mouth would hurt her. They would cut like a knife. Even her name on his lips sliced through her.

“Don’t. Don’t say it.” She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes anymore. The words came out on a whisper, too difficult to say. “I don’t think I can handle it.”

“It’s just that... Micah, I still see you as Drew’s. I think I’ll always see you that way...off-limits. He was one of my best friends. I have to honor his memory in this.”

She spun at his words, a spark igniting within her. How dare he? She spoke through clenched teeth. “He’s gone, Josh. His claim on me died with him.”

“But still—”

She cut him off. He’d hear her out even if it was the last she ever said to him. “As my friend, do you really think that’s fair to me? To condemn me to a life of loneliness because once I belonged to someone who is now dead? Is that what you hope for me? Is that all you see happening in my future? Because I’m considered untouchable to you?”

Micah walked to the window, her eyes unable to take anything in but the snowy-white abyss that lay beyond. Her tone softened after she took a deep, calming breath, her back to him. “Drew was my first love. That place in my heart will always belong to him. But what we had, although real, was nothing more than teenage love. Even if that accident hadn’t happened, I honestly don’t think we would have lasted much longer. No matter how much I have imagined it.”

She pulled the edges of her robe tighter, needing its comfort and warmth. “For the last ten years, I’ve desperately held on to a memory, an idea. I fooled myself into believing that my life was pointless without him, that any hope of a happy future had died with him. But it was all lies that I told myself to put off the grieving process. I had become comfortable in my denial. It felt safer than the alternative, which was to put myself back out there, susceptible to heartbreak again. Sure, I went through the motions. I appeared to be normal, happy and healthy to the naked eye. But deep inside of me, hidden from sight, lay this ticking time bomb that just waited for the perfect moment to explode. That semblance of normal life blown to smithereens, leaving me wounded and gaping and empty.”

Micah paused; silence echoed throughout the room. Josh hadn’t said a word, nor had he made a move. But she could feel his presence. Slowly she turned, looking him straight in the eye. “I’ve put him to rest. I’ve faced my inner demons head-on. I have fought my way through denial, depression, anger and bitterness. I have battled it out with the memories and ghosts that haunted me. And after I won, I locked the past away once and for all. I’ve finally found acceptance and peace and freedom. So don’t you dare tell me that I am still bound by a man long since dead! He’s controlled my life from the grave for far too long. But not anymore.”

She took another deep breath. Her knees felt weak, but she ignored them, gathered her nerve and stood up straighter. He would not see an ounce of weakness in her. Not if she could do anything about it.

“I survived Drew. I can survive you, too. I deserve more. I deserve a life full of love and happiness. I’ve missed out on that and I won’t let myself continue down that road. I want to stop thinking about what I’ve missed out on and start thinking about what lies ahead. So I guess the real question is—will you be a part of my future, Josh, or just a part of my past?”

He stood there. Just stood there! Immovable. And every second that passed felt like an eternity. Each moment caused another crack to form in the fragile armor she held up around her heart, threatening to shatter it into tiny irretrievable pieces.

His words were barely audible, but her heart knew before her ears were able to translate to her brain. “I...can’t...”

Her vision glazed over as she stood frozen in her heartbreak, not even aware of his quiet exit out of her apartment, and out of her life.

She was experiencing a new grief, a different kind of grief. This was altogether suffocating and confining. She felt it close in on her like a heavy weight.

No!

She wouldn’t allow this to happen again.

Micah straightened her shoulders and dragged a hand across her face, wiping the tears from her eyes.

She would allow herself a good cry, and maybe a pint or two of Ben & Jerry’s, but enough was enough. If he chose to walk away, then it was his loss. She would not be held under the law of his gravity. She had tasted freedom and the possibility of a new life. Nothing would get in her way. She was stronger than this.

Sabina arrived and after a sob-filled account of the last ten minutes they shared the ice cream while Micah continued to cry. Sabina talked her into a movie completely free of any romance.

But five minutes in a phone rang. Micah lunged for it, hoping it was Josh. Disappointed to find it wasn’t even her phone ringing.

Sabina answered and mouthed Hanna’s name. Her brows began to knit together in a frown. It was the only time Micah had seen Sabina’s face look slightly unpretty—far from being ugly, just a little not pretty. The thought brought a smile to her tear-streaked face before she realized that Sabina was frowning, which was a cause for concern. Afraid it might cause wrinkles, she didn’t frown very often.

“What’s wrong?”

Sabina held up a finger, signaling her to wait a moment. Which she did, even if it was done rather impatiently.

“Hanna just caught Nathan in bed with another woman. Come on. Let’s go.”

“What?” She hurried to find her boots and coat as she made sense of it. “She has to be devastated. We’ll need to pick up a lot more Ben & Jerry’s.”

“And maybe some wine.”

“Or something harder.”

“You’re right.”

They drove quickly to Hanna’s house. As they entered, they noticed a couple of broken vases, or possibly plates, littering the floor, evidence of Hanna’s well-known temper.

“Hanna, what happened?” She looked awful, mascara streaks marring her face.

“He’s been cheating on me! All this time I thought he was working late like I was, but no. He’s been hooking up with an associate!”

“Did he tell you how long it’s been going on?” Micah was afraid to speak, did not want to further upset Hanna, but maybe talking about it would get her to calm down a little. She wrapped her arm around Hanna’s back and began to rub up and down in an effort to calm her.

“Yeah. I forced it out of him. He says he has been with her for a while. Apparently it started not long after we first got together. Can you believe that? How stupid am I? How could I not see this? I fell for all his crap, bought a house with him and was planning to marry him. I even bought a dress last week!”

“You did?” Sabina asked and Micah sent her a look that said not now. The fact that she’d gone wedding-dress shopping without them was irrelevant now—hurtful, but irrelevant.

“I’m so sorry, Han. I never did think he was deserving of you. I know you probably do not want to hear it right now, but it really is a good thing that you didn’t marry him. You got to see him for who he really is before saying I do.” Micah tried to reassure her.

“And the better news is we brought ice cream and Bailey’s,” Sabina piped in, holding up the bottle and carton for Hanna to see. “It may not solve your problems, but it will make you happier for tonight, at least.”

“Aw, thanks, guys. I’m so glad you came to my rescue.” The tears flowed again as Hanna wrapped her arms around each of them. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You will never have to find out.”

“We will take good care of you. Now let the man-hating party begin!” Sabina said as she made her way to the kitchen. They would need spoons. These girls had no need for bowls or glasses during a man-hating party. They drank straight from the bottle and ate straight from the carton during times like this. Helping Hanna through her pain had a way of helping Micah forget her own. It had been a full half hour since the last time she had thought about Josh. They would each get through this and be stronger because of it.

* * *

When Josh had closed Micah’s door behind him, he knew it would be the moment he would look back on with regret for the rest of his life. Two words would haunt him for the rest of his days.

I. Can’t.

He had wanted to rush back in there, tell her what a coward and liar he was, but there was still a part of him that hadn’t let him. Something that drove his feet to move, step by step, farther and farther away from her door.

The real truth, the gut-wrenching reality, had been right there in the middle of her heartfelt speech.

She deserved more.

Micah would never know the reasons why he had to walk away. If she ever did find out, she would never forgive him, making a relationship impossible. It was for the best. He just had to keep telling himself that.

FIFTEEN

The days that followed were lonely and quiet without Josh. She hated it. Even though they did not see each other on a daily basis, he used to call or text her every day. But she hadn’t heard from him. Not since that night.

It was for the best. She needed to learn to get on without him. She needed to learn how to do this on her own, to be independent and gain confidence outside of a man’s attention and affection.

She had learned so much about herself recently. Her eyes had been opened for the first time in years. She had spent all of that time dependent on Drew and Josh.

His rejection was a good thing. It did not feel that way at first, but she was seeing it now. She did not recognize the girl she used to be anymore. She would always be grateful for all that Josh had done to help her get past that.

It was sad losing that relationship, but she was excited to see what the future held. Her options for a happy future were limitless. She now had the confidence and independence to make it happen.

“He still hasn’t called?” Sabina’s question knocked her from her thoughts. Micah had not realized she was staring at her phone without seeing.

“No, but it’s all right. I think it is for the best.”

“How so?”

“I need to learn to survive without a man.”

“Do you, now?” Sabina arched her eyebrow and pursed her lips in the infamous duck face. “Who are you and what have you done with my bestie?”

“What are you talking about? I am here. I have always been here.”

“Well, physically you have been, but I feel like you have been gone from me for a while. I have seen glimpses of the Micah I love, but it has been a long, long time.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“You have had a difficult year.”

“It really has been a rough year. I don’t know why it became more difficult for me, but I know it was for a reason. It all came to a peak, and I was forced to face reality. I needed that. I needed to deal with the past and finally put it all behind me.”

“Good. It is so nice to hear you talk like that.” Sabina stood and smoothed out her pant legs. “You ready for this?”

“As ready as I will ever be.” Micah had been dreading this for a few days now. They were all meeting at Hanna’s to help her move.

The girls would arrive first so they could help pack the boxes. Then the guys would show up later with the truck and load it up. That helped a little. She wouldn’t know how to act if Josh arrived there first and she showed up later. It would put pressure on her to say something, do something. If she was there first, then she could be busy doing things by the time he arrived. Seemed like a good enough plan.

She grabbed her coat and followed Sabina out the door. Here goes nothing.

* * *

Micah was in the bedroom packing up all of Hanna’s personal items when she heard the guys arrive. Her heart began to pound. Her hands began to shake. She kept folding and packing, doing her best to concentrate on the clothing and not on what was happening downstairs.

It didn’t work. She could hear his voice as he laughed. He sounded good. Did he miss her? Did her absence affect him in any way? Or had he just gone on the way he always did when women came in and out of his life? She had always thought she was different. Was she now just another one of them?

Furniture banged against something. “Hey, watch the furniture! You are going to pay for anything you damage, boys!”

Micah laughed as she imagined the scene. Two guys with their muscles, sweating, lifting heavy objects...

Whoa!

Her mind was going places it should not. Hanna was probably standing on the staircase watching their every move, directing them and being her overcautious self, making sure her furniture was moved unscathed.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, then down the hallway. She knew whom they belonged to without even seeing him. He turned the corner into the room.

A simple gray T-shirt had never looked so good. Long, muscular legs encased in old, worn-out jeans. His hair messed up just so. Gawd, he looked good.

She felt her heart breaking all over again. They were supposed to do this run-in with others around. It would have been easier that way. Why couldn’t it have worked out that way?

“Hi.”

All he had to do was say one word and it was her undoing. She had no idea how she did not collapse into a mess of tears, but she was able to manage a smile. She could do this. She knew she could.

“Hanna wanted me to start grabbing some boxes to shove up on top in the moving truck. Do you have any that are ready?”

“Those are.” Two words. Good enough. She pointed to the boxes near the door, but he just continued to look at her. She could see his heart in his eyes and it looked just as broken as hers. Please leave so I can cry in peace.

She really should have come up with an excuse for not being able to help today. She hadn’t told Hanna about her recent developments because she had her own problems to work through. She didn’t need Micah’s drama, too. Hanna needed her help. She could get past her own issues in order to help her friend. She could and she would.

He finally made his way to the boxes, stacking one on top of the other and lifting them both at the same time. It would make this go a lot faster if he could manage carrying multiples. He quickly glanced back one more time before disappearing through the doorway.

Micah hurried to finish her duties. Just get the boxes packed and she could get out of there, away from the reminders of all she had lost and all she would never have. With her back to the door, she worked hard and kept the tears at bay. She didn’t want to see Josh each time he retrieved more boxes. Thankfully, that was only two more times. Both times she made herself busy.

She could sense him standing there, watching her. Slowly, she turned. He stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

“Don’t.”

“I never meant—”

“Please stop.” She took a deep breath and stared at the shirt she had been in the process of folding. “I didn’t think... I mean, I never thought this would happen. I never expected it to. I always assumed you would be there. I took you for granted, took our friendship for granted. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t—”

“No. Stop. I know we can never go back to how it used to be, but I’m hoping we can at least be somewhat normal around one another. Do you think that’s possible?”

He stared down at his feet, avoiding eye contact. Silence stretched between them before he finally spoke. “Yeah. We can do that.”

His shoulders dropped slightly as he turned to leave. Micah stared at the empty doorway, unable to fathom how this relationship had crumbled so quickly. It hadn’t been as indestructible as they’d assumed it was.

“How’s it going up here?”

Micah turned to see Hanna enter. Her eyes must have given her away, because Hanna’s filled with concern as she came closer. Hanna rested her hand on Micah’s, hindering her progress. “What’s going on, Micah? Is something wrong?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m almost finished.”

“Forget the stuff, Micah. Stop. Sit down. Tell me. What’s the matter? And don’t bother denying it. I can read you like a book.”

“It’s not...” Hanna’s eyebrow lifted up, halting her ensuing denial. “Fine. I did something stupid and now things are really messed up with Josh, and I just want to go home.”

“What did you do? Oh, please tell me one of you finally confessed your true feelings!”

“What?”

“I have been waiting for years for one of you to come to your senses.”

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Neither of you was ready to hear it. But stop avoiding the question. What did you do?”

“I realized...”

“Yes?”

“...that...I’ve fallen in love with Josh.”

“It’s about time.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“So what did you do?”

“I accidentally told him.”

“What do you mean, accidentally?”

“Well, I meant to text Sabina about it, but I had an oops moment and sent it to Josh instead.”

“Classic.”

“How can you be so casual about this?”

“Because you guys are meant to be together. Everyone knows that.”

“No. No one knows that.”

“So, what happened?” Hanna was relentless.

“He doesn’t feel the same.”

“That’s what he said?”

“His exact words were I can’t.”

“Aw, Micah. I’m sorry it went down like that. Give it time. I know you two are meant to be together, and it will all work out eventually.”

Micah stood, dragged her hands across her face and wiped the leftover tears on her jeans. She looked down at the things that still needed to be packed. “Let’s stop worrying about me and keep working on getting you out of here.”

“You’re right. I need to end this chapter of my life as soon as possible. Get back to work.”

* * *

Josh reclined on his couch. His once comfortable apartment now seemed barren and lonely. Everywhere he looked he was reminded of her. She had been woven into every area of his life. He just didn’t function without her.

It had been so painful to see her today and know that he was the one responsible for the hurt in her eyes. He wanted to hold her, to make it all better, but he couldn’t.

The pit in his stomach made itself known. He could remember that night so vividly, the paralyzing guilt from the part he played still fresh. The night he’d vowed to protect Micah. The night she’d permanently become off-limits.

Josh had just pulled into his driveway when his phone rang. It was Drew and he knew exactly what the impending conversation was going to be about. They had spent the evening celebrating Drew’s birthday before the rain had scattered them and forced them all to go home. By this point, Drew must have just dropped off Micah, finally freeing him up to call and let Josh have it.

He was tempted to not answer, but curiosity won.

“Hello?”

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Yup. He was mad.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pull that with me, Josh. You know exactly what I’m talking about. What the hell?”

This was a conversation they revisited every couple of months. Josh would forget himself and Drew would catch him staring at Micah. He couldn’t help it. She was a beautiful girl.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. I was only looking. It’s not like I’ve ever touched her.”

“And you never will. Get that through your thick skull. She’s mine! And she’ll always be mine!”

“I know. I know.”

“Oh, damn! No! No!”

Josh held the phone close to his ear, straining to hear what was happening, but the rain pounding on his windshield made it difficult. “Drew?”

Everything was muffled, but the sound of screeching tires was unmistakable. It all happened so quickly that Josh couldn’t distinguish one thing from another. The horrifying sounds of twisting metal and shattering glass pierced through the phone, like nothing he had ever heard before. His breathing halted, his heart rate plummeted. It was as if everything ceased to function in that moment. Then, just as suddenly as it had happened, an eerie silence filled the air.

Panic consumed him. “Drew! Talk to me, man!”

It was faint but he could hear a moan, a painful cry, something.

“Drew, where are you? What happened? Drew, talk to me!”

“Josh.” It was barely audible, but it was something.

“I’m coming, man. Where are you?”

“No.” The word sounded weak, a gasping sound rather than a command. “Promise...”

“Drew—”

Josh strained to hear around the pounding of his own heartbeat.

“Micah...”

“Anything. I’ll do anything, Drew. I’ll protect her, even from me.”

It was alarmingly quiet, except for a muffled gurgling sound and erratic heaving breaths. He didn’t know what to do. Drew was in distress and he had no idea where he was or what had happened. He would have told Drew anything at that moment just to keep him calm.

“I promise, Drew. She’ll always be yours.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

No!

The magnitude of what had just happened hit Josh with a leveling force. His head fell forward onto the steering wheel, a gut-wrenching cry of pain escaping from deep within.

SIXTEEN

It was the start of a new day, a new chapter in her life. It had been far too long since she had put her knowledge to work, but now it was time. After being a nanny for the last several years, she worried if she still had what it took.

After the girls helped her shop for some new clothes, she felt superconfident. She definitely would not be taken seriously if she showed up in the same clothes she had worn as a nanny—her nanny family had not even taken her seriously when she showed up in those clothes.

She had selected a basic black pencil skirt, but her newfound curves were amplified in this baby. Even though she had put on a little weight, she actually liked the result and could not remember the last time she had felt this confident.

She grabbed her stylish new satchel purse and headed out the door, her new confidence marking her stride. Watch out, business world. I’m about to take over.

It felt good to be taken seriously again. Felt good to have something to contribute. And basically...she felt good.

When Micah entered her new work environment, her soon-to-be coworkers sized her up and tossed her looks of competition. Bring it on! Bring it on! Okay, so maybe she was getting a little out of control, her head growing with each step she took.

There was a tiny voice in her head that caused her to second-guess herself momentarily. Old habits had a tendency of dying hard, but she quickly stomped the negative thoughts from her mind. She would remain positive from here on out. She would not allow negativity to hold her back any longer. She was a changed woman, and she was bound to make that a permanent change.

After a few hours of initial training, she was given a break. In desperate need of a coffee, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Decisions, decisions. To the left, past the firehouse where Josh worked, was a coffee shop. Or she could go to the right and across the street.

Her positive, confident outlook pushed her to the left. The trucks were parked out front; several firemen cluttered the area. Josh had to be there. Somewhere. You look good in that skirt. Strut past that firehouse and show him what he’s missing.

Yup, no. She wasn’t that confident. She turned sharply to the right and made a beeline across the street.

* * *

“Where is everyone?” Jamie walked into Josh’s apartment expecting the regular people in attendance but instead was faced with an empty room.

“Oh, uh...Hanna’s working.”

“On Sundays now?”

“Guess so.”

“And the others?”

“Sabina is mad at me...”

“And Micah?”

Josh didn’t say anything. The silence was answer enough.

“What happened?” Jamie asked as he settled into his favorite spot on Josh’s couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

“You want me to grab you a beer before I get into it?”

“Yeah.”

Josh went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and pulled out two. He popped the tops off and handed one to Jamie when he returned to the living room, and settled down into his own seat after.

“Okay, spill. What happened?”

“So much...”

“Start from the beginning.”

“Nah, man. I don’t want to revisit all that.”

“Give me the bullet-points version, then.”

“Well...I was a fool. I took advantage of her when she was drunk. I lost all sense of self-control, cared more about my own lust... I treated her like just another girl I’d pick up in a bar.”

Jamie leaned back in his seat and propped his ankle on the opposite knee. “Continue.”

“Then I get this text the other day...”

“Yeah?”

“Mind you, this is after I lost all control.” Josh took another swig of his beer. “But this text...I guess she meant to send it someone else. It was obvious it was never meant for me to see.”

“Oh, really? That’s happened to me before. What did it say?”

“Basically it just said she had feelings for me.”

“What? That’s awesome. That makes it so much easier for you now.” Jamie took a sip of his beer. Then, as if he had thought about it a moment, he sat up straighter. “Wait. Now I am confused. Why isn’t she here then? I thought you were in love with her. Shouldn’t she be here playing kissy face with you now that the secret is out?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, uncomplicate it for me.”

“I am in love with her. That’s a given. But I can’t be with her.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why not?”

“I thought we talked about this.”

“We did, but I’m still not seeing it.”

“She belongs to Drew. She always will be hands off to me. Our friendship means too much to me to muck it up.”

“So what has happened now hasn’t already mucked it up? I mean, look around. You still lost her.”

“I guess no matter what I do, I lose. At least this way I have the hope that she will find someone better than me and will eventually forgive me.”

“Are you kidding me? Who could possibly be a better match for her than you?”

“Tons of guys.”

“You’re full of it!”

Minutes passed with neither saying a word. He hated that deep down inside he felt he could never be enough for Micah. But what if this was the universe’s way of pushing him to be more?

“So, wait. Go back. Tell me what happened after she sent you that text message. What did you say in response?”

“Well, I went over there. No matter what, I couldn’t say anything to her through text message.”

“Right. That is always a bad idea.”

“She was crying and you could tell just how much she hadn’t wanted me to know. She was stressing about it to the max.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her I couldn’t do it.”

“You couldn’t do what?”

“I couldn’t be with her. I could not do this with her.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?”

“No. What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know. Anything but that.”

“This sucks! I don’t know what to do to make it better.”

“You tell her the truth. You tell her you love her and that you are a freaking idiot and you can’t live without her.”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“I’ll figure it out later. I don’t want to think any more about it right now. Why are we wasting time talking about relationships like a bunch of girls when there is a perfectly good football game about to start?”

“Seriously, though. Don’t be an idiot and let her get away.”

“Okay. You’re done. Football game is on.” Josh turned up the volume and let the announcer’s voice drown out his friend as well as his thoughts.

It didn’t work, though. The game was on but Josh wasn’t watching. How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? Ten years. It had been ten years since Drew’s death and the vow he had made. He had successfully kept it a secret for a decade, and now it all threatened to crumble.

Jamie gave advice so freely, but if he knew the truth he would understand.

“Here, have another beer. I can hear the wheels turning in your head.” Jamie handed him a bottle of beer, but he waved it off.

“No. I don’t need it.”

The memories of that night had haunted him for such a long time. It had always kept a much-needed wall between him and Micah. He wasn’t sure when, but she had climbed over it, demolishing the barrier.

“You ready to make me understand?”

“I don’t know, man.” Josh dragged the palm of his hand down his face. It was all too much. Maybe he should talk about it. Get it out in the open, so to speak. “She doesn’t know the truth about Drew’s death.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was my fault.”

The look on Jamie’s face told him he didn’t believe him. Josh knew what he was thinking. Drew had been alone when he died. No other cars to blame. No other passengers to distract him.

“I know what you’re thinking. He was driving too fast and it was raining. But...see, Drew called me. He was on the phone with me when he died.”

“Oh, man...” Jamie leaned forward on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees.

“We were arguing.”

“About what?”

“Micah.” Josh took a deep breath. “I’ve always been in love with her and Drew knew it. He was setting me straight, telling me how it was going to be.”

Jamie remained still as Josh spoke. “It was because of me that he wasn’t paying attention, that he was going so fast. I can still remember everything. The screeching, the shattering, the twisting. I didn’t know where he was or what had happened. I was too afraid to hang up on him to call for help. So I kept talking to him.”

“Oh, God. Josh, why didn’t you tell us?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Josh leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “I sat there in my truck in the middle of the rain and listened to our best friend take his last breath.”

He fought to shake the memories from his head. He didn’t want to think about Drew’s last words just now.

“Once I snapped out of it, I ran into the house and called 911. It took awhile to figure everything out, but eventually I found myself standing in front of the wreckage. The paramedics had already left. They had taken him away in a body bag. Nothing left to do. Bright red-and-blue lights flashed all around as the police officers investigated and tried to make sense of what happened.”

Josh remembered standing there as a deluge of heavy raindrops soaked through his thick coat. It was then that he took on the massive weight of guilt. Putting it on his shoulders like a cloak. It was all his fault. It was there in that moment that Josh had vowed never to breathe a word of this to Micah. She would hate him forever if she knew the truth. He would keep his promise and watch over her. He would protect her and never cross over the boundaries of friendship. He would do it for Drew.

“You know what happened. Drew’s car lost control. He was going way too fast when he took that turn on Elk Street. By that point there was no way he could have avoided that tree. The car didn’t stand a chance with an immovable oak. Instead it just wrapped around it. The misshapen mass of metal that I saw bore no resemblance to a vehicle. No one could have survived something like that. If I hadn’t done something that day to piss him off, Drew wouldn’t have been upset. He wouldn’t have called me while driving in the pouring rain. He wouldn’t have been driving so recklessly. He wouldn’t have taken that corner so fast. But because of me, he did.”

“Josh, we both know that Drew was a reckless driver no matter what mood he was in. He was always talking on the phone. Always going too fast. He was careless. It wasn’t your fault. You just were unfortunate enough to be the one he was talking to at the time. It could have been any one of us.”

Josh heard him. Knew he was speaking the truth. If Micah had been the one on the phone with Drew, he wouldn’t have placed the blame on her shoulders. But even if it could all be reasoned away, he still couldn’t get past the guilt or the promise he’d made.

“Did he die quickly? Did he say anything?” Josh had never considered the fact that he was the only one aware of Drew’s last moments. It had all been a mystery to his family and friends. He was selfish for keeping it secret all these years.

“It was pretty quick. It all happened so fast. It could have been mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Hearing him and not being able to do anything... He didn’t say much. Each word was a struggle. But Micah’s name was the last he said.” He leaned back into the couch, emotionally depleted. “Jamie, I made a promise then and there that I would always protect her, and that included protecting her from me. Which, obviously, I’ve failed at.”

“Josh, I can’t say I would have handled it any differently, but still... Listen, we’ve been talking to Micah about letting go and moving on, and she’s finally doing it. Now I think it’s your turn. Drew would never have blamed you for what happened. It’s time you let that go.”

Talking had helped get it all out there so he could finally work through it. Jamie was right. He did need to let it go. For himself. For Micah.

He only wanted to do what was best for her. She deserved more than what he had to offer. Even days after the mistaken text message, the fact that she had said she had fallen in love with him still hadn’t sunk in yet. How could this be? He wasn’t deserving of someone like her. He didn’t deserve to be loved like that.

He knew women found him attractive, wanted to date him, but they did not fall in love with him. He usually did something to screw it up long before they got to that point.

So when had it happened with Micah? Was it really possible that she had seen past his idiocy and in spite of his numerous flaws had really fallen in love with him? She knew him better than anyone, better than most of his family, and still she claimed to love him.

It blew his mind.

Should he tell her? Would she still love him after she knew the truth?

He felt it was only right that she know everything once and for all. If she could so bravely reveal her heart to him, the least he could do was tell her the truth.

While men fought over a football on the television screen and Jamie sat beside him feigning interest in the game, Josh grew closer and closer to a decision. He knew well Jamie was just biding his time until Josh came to the right conclusion.

“I should talk to her,” Josh finally said.

“You should.”

The more time that had passed, the closer he was to doing something about it. He needed some courage and clarity of mind.

Josh knew that if he broke her heart, he would never forgive himself. But he also knew that if he let this moment pass him by and watched as some other man came and stole her away, he would regret it for the rest of his days. He had nothing left to lose.

“This is crazy. I have never had a problem talking to a woman before. Why am I so worked up over her?”

“Because she’s not just any girl. She’s Micah.”

He did not want to admit it out loud, but it scared him to death. Nothing had frightened him more in his entire life than the thought of facing Micah and telling her that he had lied. He could not imagine the amount of courage it would take to tell her that he was in love with her and had been since the moment he laid eyes on her.

He remembered the first day he met her. She’d been so vibrant, with her fiery hair flowing wildly in the wind. Her soft brown eyes turned a glowing shade of bronze when the sun hit her just right. She was carefree in her cotton, summery dress that seemed to dance in the breeze. He remembered the color, even—a jade green. He loved how it looked against her ivory skin and how bright it made her eyes look when you got close to her.

The jealousy he’d felt when he found out she belonged to another, to Drew, was like nothing he had ever experienced before in his life. The intensity of it had gutted him to the core.

But that was just it. She didn’t belong to anyone. She didn’t belong to Drew and she didn’t belong to him, either. He had been trying to protect her, but instead had been controlling her. Regardless of how much she fought it, he kept treating her like a possession. She had a mind, a beautiful mind, of her own. She deserved to know all of the facts. She deserved to be able to make the decision for herself.

Ah! He felt like such a dumb ass. When it came to Micah, he just couldn’t think straight. He needed to talk to her.

When he finally came to a decision, he stood up and walked out the door without another word to Jamie. He was sure he could figure out what was about to happen.

SEVENTEEN

Josh found himself standing in front of the door to Micah’s apartment. He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there—at least several minutes—trying to gather up the nerve to knock.

His stomach churned. His hands felt tingly as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. In his line of work, he went head-to-head with serious fires and life-and-death situations, but this five-foot-six-inch fiery redhead had to be the scariest encounter he had ever faced.

Josh took in a deep, stabilizing breath before lifting his hand and knocking on the door. He heard footsteps. His heartbeat became so loud it drowned out the noise. The door opened; he held his breath. When he saw Sabina on the other side of the threshold, he let it out in a whoosh.

“Is Micah around?”

“Is Micah around? You’ve got some nerve showing up h—”

“Sabina, I don’t really feel like getting into it with you right now. I just need to talk to her.”

“Well, I am thinking you pretty much screwed up your chance to talk to her the other night.”

“Come on, just let me in.”

“I would, but she’s not even here. She went out with Hanna.” Then, as if she needed to throw salt in the wound, she said, “She went to meet some new guys. It is about time she met someone decent.”

“Listen, I know you have never been fond of me and we have had our differences. And I will be the first to say that Micah deserves more than what I have to offer, but I do love her. I am a stupid idiot and I may have ruined everything, but I need to at least make it right.”

“That is sweet and everything, but for real, she is not here. I think you’ve missed your shot, buddy.” Sabina closed the door on him, leaving him staring at the fall wreath that hung on the door.

He took a step back and was met with the wall. Leaning against it, he slowly lowered himself to the floor. What was he doing? He should leave. He should pretend he had not let Jamie talk him into this ridiculous idea. Micah would never know. He could text Sabina and ask her to keep quiet—judging by her reaction to him, like a mama bear protecting her baby, he knew she would agree and keep it between them.

He brought his knees up, propped his elbows on them and dropped his head in his hands. He really should just leave, but he couldn’t do it. He needed to see her the way he needed his next breath. Nothing would ever be the same if she was not a part of his life.

* * *

Hanna dropped Micah off after a night of failed attempts at meeting eligible men and maybe one too many cocktails. There were a few possibilities that she’d felt held some potential. But each guy she met would smile at her and flirt with her, but in the end they just came up short. One by one she knocked them down.

Not Josh.

Not Josh.

Nope.

Definitely not even close to being Josh.

The guys seemed to be interested in her, which she took as a good sign, but she hadn’t been able to find any that she was interested in. Maybe in time she would. She was not giving up just yet. She would find someone.

In the meantime, it was going to be a lot of fun getting to know who she really was apart from all that she had been hiding behind.

Micah rounded the corner, climbed the last flight of steps to the third floor and noticed him sitting there in front of her door, as if he was waiting for her. She closed her eyes and opened them again, wondering if maybe she had just conjured up his image.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with pain and regret. Her heart broke all over again seeing him sitting there. He stood and wiped his hands down the front of his jeans. He wore a navy hoodie, the one with his firefighter emblem on the chest. She always thought he looked invincible yet huggable when wearing that hoodie. But she couldn’t hug him anymore. Not right now, at least. Or maybe any time soon.

“I needed to talk to you. I had to see you.”

“What for?”

“I shouldn’t have...I should have told you the truth.” He ran his hand through his hair. She could see the evidence of stress and pain all over his face. “I...uh...I lied, Micah.”

“What do you mean?

“Give me a moment. This is difficult for me.”

Josh looked down at his feet, shoved his hands in his pockets, then pulled them out again. He seemed nervous. She had never seen him like this before. It was an unsettling sight. At the same time it warmed her heart and showed a side of him that was vulnerable in a way she did not know he could be.

She found herself fidgeting as well, playing with her keys and fumbling with the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

“I lied the other night. I was a being a coward. A coward and a liar. I would completely understand if you never wanted to talk to me again, but I just need to tell you the truth.”

She said nothing, just nodded her head for him to continue. She was all ears.

“I was afraid.” He still looked down at his feet, avoiding eye contact. “I was afraid that if I told you the truth that I would lose you.”

“Lose me? You could never lose me, unless you push me away.” Then again, he had lost her in a way, even if it was temporary.

His hands went back in his pockets.

This whole scene was beginning to make her nervous, too. Especially with how nervous he was acting right now. “What truth are you talking about?”

He lifted his head, the full force of his gray eyes enveloping her under his spell. It was as if he summoned all his courage and took a deep breath. His eyes dropped to her lips, then back up to her eyes.

“Micah...” It came out as a breath, barely a whisper. Her name on his lips said more to her than anything else. The one word was filled with so much emotion and reverence, and so many unknowns.

“Drew called me right before the accident. We were arguing when he lost control.”

She gasped, her hand covering her open mouth. “Oh, Josh.”

He didn’t look up. She wanted so badly to comfort him, but stopped herself. He needed to say this. He needed to get it out. She knew all too well the powerful grip that grief could have on you. He had to release it.

“He was angry with me. Over you. I shouldn’t have... I wish I had... I’m sorry, Mike.”

She could see it in his eyes. He had carried the weight of guilt, blaming himself for the accident. She went to him then, wrapped her arms around his waist, leaned her head on his chest. “Why are you apologizing? It was an accident, Josh. It wasn’t your fault.”

She felt the tension slowly ease from his shoulders. He pulled back from her enough to look into her eyes. “Your name was the last thing he said. I promised him I would take care of you. Maybe I took that job a little too seriously. I don’t know.”

He pulled away completely, walked to the end of the hallway then back. “I’ve tried. You have to believe me. I’ve tried so hard to keep my promise to him. I built a wall around you to keep you safe, even from me, but you scaled it. I just wanted to protect you. And I realized it was never about the promise. It was you. It’s always been you. You grabbed hold of my heart and I can’t let you go. Something keeps pulling me back to you. You have a hold on me that I can’t seem to break—that I don’t want to break.”

“What are you saying?”

“Micah—” his eyes dropped to her lips again “—I need you to kiss me.” Josh stepped closer, but not close enough. “I need to feel your lips against mine. I need to taste you one more time. I can’t go another moment without kissing you again.”

Frozen, unable to move, she stood there as he inched closer to her still. His head dipped low, coming in close to hers without touching, his lips only a breath away from her own. She felt the warm rush of air, the sweet smell of his breath as he hovered over her mouth.

Ever the gentleman when it came to her, she knew he wouldn’t kiss her without her approval. If this kiss was going to happen, she had to be the one to make that final step. She only needed to lean forward; he was less than an inch away. But once that happened, it meant there was no going back to the way things were.

She didn’t ever want to go back to that.

Without a second thought, she closed the gap and pressed her lips home. She poured every ounce of emotion she had into the kiss, holding nothing back. If they were going to do this, really do this, then he needed to know how she truly felt. His lips molded to hers as if they were made to be together.

He slowly began to pull back. She did not want it to end, but knew the kiss was growing in intensity. Maybe the hallway outside her front door was not the best place for this to happen. His hands came around to gently grasp her forearms, pulling her hands away from his chest. His fingers slid down her arms until he had her hands within his at their sides. He placed several small kisses to her lips, as if needing to end the kiss but not being able to find the strength to do it.

“Micah.” He said her name against her lips. That had to be the sexiest thing she had ever experienced. Granted, her sexy experiences were limited.

“Hmm.” It was the only response she could manage at this moment.

“I love you.”

Her eyes snapped open. “You do?”

“Yes.” He still had not completely pulled away. He took their intertwined hands and wrapped his arms around her, forcing her hands back as well. “Sorry I was such an idiot and was too afraid to say it before. I was a coward.”

“Coward is that last word I would ever use to describe you.” She pulled back to see his face in full while he talked, to be able to read his eyes. “What were you so scared of?”

“Many things. I was scared that you would blame me for Drew’s death...”

“Never.”

“The thought of losing you scared me the most, but stupidly, I almost lost you, anyway. I knew when you kissed me the night of the snowstorm that I was in deep trouble. That there was no way I was getting out of this unscathed. That was frightening.”

“You mean the morning after the snowstorm. We kissed in the snow, not the night before.”

“We kissed the night before and the next morning. You seriously can’t remember?” A laugh exploded from deep within him.

Her hand went to her mouth in shock. Her mind raced to piece together the memories of that night. Heat crept up the back of her neck. “I thought I was dreaming!”

“I wondered. When you were completely oblivious to the fact you tried to jump my bones the night before, I wondered if maybe you had experienced a little bit of sleepwalking. Oh, you tested my limits that night!”

She let her forehead fall to his chest, not wanting to look him in the eyes. She couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face, nor could she deny that she had indeed tried to jump his bones that night.

But come on, she’d thought she had been within the safety and anonymity of a dream!

He kissed the top of her head as he reined in his laughter and continued. “You threw me for a loop that night, and I was terrified. I was scared of the emotions I was feeling. I have never felt anything like that before.”

She felt giddy, like a little schoolgirl with her first crush, only better. “You haven’t?”

“No. This is all new to me. Maybe that’s why it took me so long to figure it out.”

“Show me how you feel again.” She grabbed the back of his neck and brought his face down to meet her own.

He didn’t hesitate for a moment, showing her exactly how he felt about her with a kiss that, if she’d been wearing socks, would have knocked them clean off. He kissed her as though he couldn’t get enough of her, and she felt the same thing. She never wanted this to end.

They stood there in the hallway, completely unaware of their surroundings. She placed her hand on the side of his face, needing the confirmation that he was real and not another dream playing tricks on her.

“I love you, Micah, and I don’t ever want to let you go. You’re the first woman I’ve ever said that to, you know. I want you to be the first woman I bring home to meet my family, too.”

She actually felt herself blushing. She hadn’t seen them in years, but she still knew his family well. “I’ve already met your family, you goof.”

“I know, but still. I want them to see you as the woman I love, not just the girl I was friends with. Still sounds strange to my own ears, but I don’t think I could grow tired of telling you. I love you, Micah.”

“I love you, too, Josh.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

Who would have guessed this would ever come about? She’d never thought the day would come that she would be in the middle of the hallway in her apartment building, kissing Josh Taylor with abandon. My, my, how life had a way of taking you by surprise. And all it took was letting go of the past and allowing herself to embrace the here and now.

She really had missed out on a lot during that time, but she was not going to let it get her down. No, she was only going to focus on making the most of today. And at the moment, that involved relishing the divine rush caused by the touch of Josh’s hands. His skillful lips felt like heaven and his arms held her tight, as if they never wanted to let her go.

His hands came up to frame her face. And as he kissed her softly this time, she felt his fingertips graze her neck and slip beneath the collar of her jacket. He pushed it off her shoulders as he broke away from her lips and kissed a path down the sensitive part of her neck. He turned her in his arms so that she was facing away from him but still nestled within his grasp. His lips continued their divine assault down the delicate slope of her shoulders. She let her head fall back against him as he pushed the strap of her dress aside.

“I just have one more question.”

“Hmm...”

He placed a kiss over the tiny heart tattoo that graced her left shoulder.

“Is this...?”

“Yes.” She knew what he wanted to know before he even voiced it. “I went to get it done and as I sat there and waited for my turn, I realized what I really wanted was your heart. And this is how you always sign your text messages to me.”

She turned in his arms, needing to see the face she loved so dearly. “When did you see it?”

“I noticed it during the snowstorm.” He kissed her again, then spoke the words against the side of her mouth. “I wanted it to be me.”

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from ONLY THE BRAVE TRY BALLET by Stefanie London

ONE

What do a ballerina and a football player have in common? It was the question Jasmine Bell pondered as she watched the footballer in front of her struggling to master a plié. Discounting a need for flexible hamstrings...they have nothing in common. Absolutely nothing. Yet here they were.

She stood in the middle of the studio, wearing her usual uniform of a black leotard, tights and ballet shoes. These items were like a second skin to a dancer, but tonight she couldn’t have felt more exposed than if she were standing there butt-naked. She folded her arms tight across her chest.

‘Let’s take it from the top. Keep those shoulders down,’ she said, forcing a calming breath. She loosened her shoulders, rounded her arms into first position and turned her feet out to match. ‘Prepare...left hand on the barre and plié—one, two, three, four...’

The man in front of her smirked as he followed her instructions with a lazy swagger. Everything about Grant Farley got under her skin, from the cocky grin on his face to the way his thick blond brows rose at her when she spoke. He was a man designed to destroy a woman’s concentration.

Keeping her distance, she watched his movements and provided assistance verbally. Usually she helped her students by guiding them with her hands, but there was something about him that made her mind scream Look but don’t touch. Maybe it was because he moved with a self-assurance that she envied, or maybe it was because after her six months of celibacy he looked good enough to eat.

Much to her chagrin he was a quick learner, and rapidly gained ground despite his insistence on goofing around.

‘You’re doing well,’ Jasmine said as they paused between repetitions. She was determined to be the consummate professional, even if it was harder to pull off than the pas de deux from Don Quixote, Act Three. ‘I can see improvements already and it’s only your first lesson.’

‘It’s not exactly difficult,’ he responded, his blue eyes meeting hers and sending a chill down her spine. His tone dismissed her praise. ‘I’m bending up and down on the spot. A two-year-old could master that.’

Jasmine bristled. Only a beef-head Aussie Rules footballer would fail to see the importance of the step she’d taught him.

She pursed her lips. ‘That’s an over-simplification, don’t you think?’

‘Not really.’ He crossed his arms and leant back against the barre, appraising her. ‘You can give it a fancy French name if you want, but it’s just bending your knees.’

‘Well, I never thought a career could be made out of chasing a little red ball.’ She tilted her chin up at him. ‘But there you go.’

‘Our balls aren’t little,’ he drawled, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Her cheeks flamed. She ignored the innuendo and started the music, preparing herself to repeat the exercise facing him.

‘Once more from the top.’

As the music started he followed her lead, bending with his feet in first position. The teacher in her couldn’t ignore the fault of his technique, as he bent his hips moved out of alignment and his feet rolled inwards. She instinctively reached out to correct the error but retracted her hand when her brain kicked into gear.

‘I don’t bite.’

His wolfish grin seemed at odds with the promise of safety, but Jasmine wasn’t going to let some arrogant joker mess with her head. She was the teacher; she was the one in charge here.

‘You need to keep your hips steady.’ She stepped forwards and placed a hand on each hip. His muscles were tight and flame-hot beneath her palms. He bent down into plié once more and she guided him, ignoring the frisson of electricity that shot through her.

‘Make sure your core is pulled in. It will increase balance and stop you rocking forwards.’

‘Like this?’ He grabbed her hand and placed her palm against his stomach. She could feel the ripple of each muscle through his T-shirt. His sports tights moulded every curve of his muscle, every bulge...

Jasmine gulped, her blood pounding as though she’d run a marathon. Get it together.

‘Yes, like that.’ She withdrew her hand, the heat of him still burning her fingertips.

She was going to strangle Elise, her soon to be former best friend, for roping her into this disaster waiting to happen. She was going to—

‘Earth to Bun-Head.’ Grant waved a hand in front of her face, chuckling when she returned her focus to him. ‘I don’t see how this is helping my hamstring. Shouldn’t we be stretching or something? We need to speed up this flexibility thing. I’ve got an important game coming up.’

He shook his leg and rubbed at the muscle.

‘Flexibility is a slow process. You can’t turn up to one ballet lesson and expect to be a contortionist. It takes time.’

‘I’d settle for being injury-free,’ he replied. ‘But if you want to show me how you can put your ankles behind your head then be my guest.’

‘This is not Cirque du Soleil.’ Jasmine bit each word out through gritted teeth.

‘It might as well be.’ He checked the clock above them. ‘Though, shocking as it might seem, I’m not here for the laughs. I want to fix my hamstring and get back to spending my time on real training.’

Jasmine wasn’t ready to let him have the last word. Sure, she had her motivations for agreeing to take Grant on as a student, but that didn’t give him licence to be rude. ‘I’m not exactly here for enjoyment either.’

‘If you loosened up you might find some aspects of it enjoyable.’

She sucked in a breath and willed herself not to respond. Glancing at the clock, she held in a sigh of relief as the hand neared 8:00 p.m. Their hour together had hardly been successful. In fact she could chalk it up as her most frustrating lesson ever...and this was only the beginning.

‘Is it that time already?’

His amused tone set fire to Jasmine’s resolve to play cool, calm and collected. She wanted to slap the mocking look right off his ruggedly handsome face. He raised an eyebrow, as if to punctuate his question.

This was going to be her life two nights a week for the next six months, and she wasn’t looking forward to it one bit! Unfortunately these lessons weren’t about the ideal way to spend her free time. No, it all came down to dollars and cents. Once again she was in a position where she needed to play up to some arrogant guy who thought he owned the world to be able to pay her bills.

‘I think we can finally call it a night,’ she said.

‘Don’t sound too upset to be rid of me.’ He uncrossed his arms and leant forwards, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over her.

‘The lessons are for one hour, Mr Farley.’ Her voice was tight and her lungs were arid and devoid of air. ‘If you want more time you’ll have to arrange it with the studio owner.’

‘One hour is plenty, Ms Bell,’ he teased, and raked a hand through his thick blond hair.

Why did he have to be so damn attractive? Her insides flipped as his hair sprang back into place. She headed towards the door to the waiting room and he walked with her, a little too close for comfort. The scent of his aftershave found its way to her nostrils and filled her head with unwanted though not unpleasant images. She shut her eyes for a moment, pushing away the desire that flared like the lighting of a match.

He wasn’t good-looking in the traditional, clean-cut way she preferred. But there was something about his rough-around-the-edges look that drew her in. He had a strong jaw and razor-sharp cheekbones; his nose was crooked, as though it had been broken at some point and hadn’t healed properly. She had a strange, powerful urge to run her fingertips over the bump, to confirm her suspicions.

She bit down on her lip. There was no way in hell she would let herself fall for a guy like him. Egotistical, cocky guys were a thing of her past, and she intended to keep it that way. It was strictly business, and after he paid her for the lesson she could go home and forget she was selling out. Forget that her dream had been reduced to this BS.

Grant walked over to his duffel bag and rifled through it, withdrawing a thick envelope. He thrust it in her direction.

‘This should cover me,’ he said. ‘Coach thought it’d be easier to pay up front since you only take cash.’

The rewarding heaviness of the envelope sat in Jasmine’s hands. It would cover her rent and bills for the next month or two, and give her a little breathing space. Relief coursed through her, immediately followed by a wave of shame as she tucked the envelope into her handbag. She didn’t bother to count it. A guy who earned more than a million a year, if you believed the papers, was hardly likely to scrimp on a couple of hundred dollars for ballet lessons.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered without looking at him, dropping onto one of the couches and peeling off her leg warmers.

‘Just so we’re clear, this is something I have to do to tick a box. I don’t have any secret dreams of wearing a tutu and getting up on stage. So don’t take it personally if I don’t crave your feedback.’

Self-important, arrogant, egotistical...

‘Fine.’ Untying her ballet shoes, she reached for her fleece-lined black leather boots. Her body was cooling down and her ankle ached. Grimacing, Jasmine rubbed at the soreness, feeling the rippled skin of her scar underneath her tights before sliding the boot on. ‘You’re here to tick a box. I’m here for the money.’

If he wanted to play it like that, then he could expect an equal response from her. Hopefully the weeks would pass quickly and then she could move on to figuring out what to do with her life.

As he pulled a pair of tracksuit pants from his bag Grant’s leg muscles flexed and bulged through his leave-nothing-to-the-imagination sports tights. She’d spent the whole hour forcing her eyes up and away from the tight fabric that stretched over his thighs and...well, everything.

Heat crawled up the back of her neck and pooled in her cheeks. She pulled her eyes away as he stood and turned to her, staring at the ground as she pulled on her boots.

‘See something you like?’ he asked, his smile indicating it was a rhetorical question.

Dammit.

* * *

He regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, but Jasmine Bell stirred something in him that made him want to bait her. She had this prickly demeanour that he found both frustrating and fascinating.

He was used to swatting the football groupies away with a metaphorical stick. But Jasmine...well, she was a different breed entirely. All long limbs and straight lines, she was sexy as hell in spite of her don’t-mess-with-me attitude. Or maybe that was exactly what he liked about her.

She glared at him as though she were mentally setting his head on fire. Her slender arms were crossed in front of her, as if trying to hide the lithe figure beneath. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of answering his question. There was a small part of him that enjoyed the power struggle; it was a game he liked to play. Moreover, it was a game he liked to win.

Now he’d ticked her off royally, and that was fine by him. He needed to keep his distance. Women were not a permanent fixture in his life...people were not a permanent fixture in his life. The fewer people he saw outside his footy team, the fewer people had the opportunity to use him. So he kept his distance, and he would do the same with her.

‘Did becoming famous cause you to forget your manners, or is that the way you were raised?’

She smiled sweetly, her sarcastic expression stinging him as much as the intentional barb in her words. The tilt in her chin issued a challenge.

‘All I wanted was to play footy; the fame is an unfortunate by-product,’ he said, surprised by his own honesty. Her small rosebud mouth pursed, and her dark brows creased above a button nose. ‘As are the ballet lessons.’

‘Isn’t that what they call a first-world problem?’ She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and walked to the front door. He followed, holding back an amused smile. ‘Like Boo-hoo, I’m famous and it’s such a tough life.’

‘I’d be happy to swap for a day so you can experience it first-hand.’

‘As much as I’d love to see you in here, trying to wrangle a bunch of toddlers, you couldn’t handle my job.’ She held the door open for him, and offered another saccharine smile. ‘Besides, I have the most annoying student to teach.’

Grant couldn’t help it—a hearty laugh burst free. She was prickly, all right, but hot damn if he didn’t enjoy it. ‘Sucks to be you?’

He waited while she locked up, and then they walked to their respective cars. The lights on his Mercedes flashed as he pressed the unlock button. Inside the car was chilly, and the windows took a moment to clear.

By then Jasmine was gone. Within minutes Grant was zipping along the freeway, the street lights blurring orange outside his window as the car tore down the open road. It was late and the city had long cleared its peak hour congestion. He massaged his injured hamstring, the muscle aching under the pressure of his fingers.

Who would have thought something as prissy as ballet would be such a workout? Not that he would dare admit it to Jasmine or any of his team-mates.

His phone buzzed in the mobile-phone holder attached to his windscreen. The goofy face of fellow Victoria Harbour Jaguars player Dennis Porter flashed up. He swiped the answer button.

‘Den.’

‘How are the ballet lessons going?’ Even through the phone line Dennis’s mischievous tone was obvious. ‘I wanted to see if your masculinity is slipping away by the minute.’

Ballet lessons were far from Grant’s idea of fun, but a persistent hamstring injury meant the need for increased flexibility training, and who better to help with that than a ballerina? His physiotherapist had made it sound good in theory, but the reality was proving to be much more irritating—especially since it gave his team-mates more than enough fodder for locker room jokes.

‘Ha!’ Grant scoffed. ‘Even if it was you wouldn’t be in with a chance. You’re not my type.’

‘Yeah, yeah. That’s what all the ladies say. So tell me that at least your teacher is hot?’

‘Hot doesn’t even begin to cover it.’

He’d been expecting someone older, more severe...maybe with a Russian accent. He’d had to keep his mouth firmly shut when a willowy beauty with a long black ponytail and porcelain skin greeted him at the studio.

‘Maybe I’ll have to pop in to one of your lessons.’

A surprising jolt of emotion raced through Grant’s veins at the thought of letting Den anywhere near Jasmine. He shook off the strange protective urge and forced his mind back to the present. ‘I know you want to see me in action.’

‘The whole country wants to see you in action. It’s going to be a good season. I can feel it.’

‘Me too.’

A drawn-out pause made Grant hold his breath.

‘Do you think all that other stuff is behind you now?’ Den asked.

Part of him wanted to answer truthfully. He didn’t know if it would ever be behind him. How could you forget the moment you almost flushed your life’s work down the toilet? Considering football was all he had, it was a damn scary thought. But Den was only a buddy, a mate...and as one of the more junior guys in the team he was not someone to whom Grant could show weakness.

‘Of course. You know me—I’m practically invincible.’

He hung up the phone and allowed his mind to drift back to Jasmine. She was a curious case, seemingly unaffected by him in the way other women were. How much did she know about his past? Was that why she eyed him with such wariness?

Regret coiled in his stomach. Gritting his teeth, Grant turned up the stereo and shook his head. The beat thundered in his chest and made his eardrums ache, yet he couldn’t drown out the thoughts swimming like sharks in his head. Around and around they circled, occupying the space—scaring off any semblance of peace.

He slammed his palm against the sturdy leather-covered steering wheel. He wasn’t looking forward to the rest of his ballet lessons, even with a teacher who was a walking fantasy. He had better things to do with his time...like figuring out how he was going to get his team to victory.

Given his not-too-distant fall from grace, he had a lot to prove and a reputation to rebuild. In particular he had to convince his coach, his team and the fans that he was at the top of his game again. The last thing he needed was to be distracted by a woman. If it were any other girl he’d simply scratch the itch and move on, but that wasn’t going to be possible given the ongoing nature of their lessons.

Groaning, he pressed his head back against the headrest. He had a bad feeling about her; there was something about her that set his body alight in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time. And the way she’d been staring at him after the lesson...talk about an invitation to sin. Warning bells were going off left, right and centre.

He couldn’t do it—not now that he was finally making progress in clearing the mud from his name. This was going to be his season. Nothing was going to distract him; nothing was going to stand in his way.

* * *

‘No!’

Grant sat bolt upright, rigid as though a steel rod had replaced his spine. Perspiration dripped down the side of his neck, his face, along the length of his spine. He felt around in the dark. The sweat-drenched sheets were bunched in his fists as he held on for dear life.

He was alone.

His breath shook; each gasp was fire in his lungs. His chest heaved as he sucked the air in greedily. More. More.

His eyes adjusted to the dark and he could make out the lines of the furniture around him. City light filtered through the slats of his blinds, creating a pattern on his bed. The apartment was silent; the rest of the world was sleeping while he shook.

Slowly his heartbeat resumed its normal rhythm. The tremors would take a while longer to go away—he knew that from experience. It was only a dream. The dream. The one he had over and over and over—the one that woke him with a fright every single time.

Flashbulbs disorientated him, microphones were shoved in his face.

‘Grant! Grant! Is it true you put a man in hospital? Is it true you beat him to a pulp?’

Shaking his head, he disentangled himself from the bedsheets and strode out to the living room. Starlight streamed in through the window and the city twinkled a silent tune. It was a surreal feeling to be in close proximity to thousands of people and yet be completely and utterly alone.

Opening the lid of his laptop, he settled onto the couch. His personal email showed the same sad scene it did every day: zero new messages. Even Dennis, the closest thing he had to a friend, hadn’t sent him anything...not even a stupid Lolcats photo. He clicked on the folder marked ‘family’ and sighed at the measly three emails that he couldn’t bear to delete. The last one was dated over six months ago.

He checked the spam folder, wondering if—hoping that—maybe a message had got caught in the filter, that maybe someone had reached out to him. No luck. The folder was empty.

He’d never regretted leaving the small country town where he’d grown up to pursue football and success in the big smoke, despite the verbal smack-down he’d got from his father. He could remember with clarity the vein bulging in his father’s forehead as his voice boomed through their modest country property. Those three little words: How could you? How could he desert them? How could he abandon the family business? How could he put a pipe dream before his father and sister?

Those wounds had only started healing, with the tentative phone calls and texts increasing between him and his sister. The old bonds had been there, frayed and worn but not completely broken. Not completely beyond repair. Even his father had provided a gruff enquiry as to Grant’s life in the city.

But all that was gone now. Those fragile threads of reconciliation had been ripped apart when he’d brought shame to the family name. They were his father’s words but he couldn’t dispute them. He didn’t have the right to be mad. He was alone because of his own actions, because of the mess he’d made. And, knowing his father, he wouldn’t get a second chance.

All the more reason to make sure the Jaguars were on top this year. If his career was all he had left he’d give it everything. He would not fail.

Slamming the lid of the laptop shut, he abandoned the couch to grab a drink from the fridge. If sleep was going to be elusive he might as well do something to pass the time.

Copyright © 2014 by Stefanie London

A Deal Before the Altar

Rachael Thomas

‘I can see only one way to secure their happiness …’ Georgina paused, refusing to be drawn. ‘And to satisfy your insatiable need for business success.’

Santos leant forward at his desk. ‘And that is?’

‘You get married first, inherit the business, leaving them to enjoy a happy married life together.’

He looked at her, his handsome face set in a mask so emotionless she blinked in shock. Did this man not have any compassion in his heart?

‘As you seem to have it all worked out, who do you suggest I marry?’ The question came out slowly, as if he was sure he’d foiled her plan.

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. She mustn’t show any nerves, any fear. He was like a predatory lion and she knew he’d smell it.

‘Me.’

RACHAEL THOMAS was born in Cheltenham, but grew up in Worcester. As a young child she loved to read and make up stories. For as long as she can remember she’s wanted to be a writer. As a teenager she became an avid reader of Mills & Boon®, borrowing endless copies from her local library—a place she loved to be.

In her early twenties she moved to Wales, where she met and married her own hero—which meant embarking on the biggest learning curve of her life as she settled in to her new role as a farmer’s wife. When her two children were in primary school she decided it was time to rekindle her dreams of being a writer.

It took almost seven years to realise those dreams, but along the way she’s met some wonderful people, travelled to amazing places and had a fabulous time. When she entered her story into Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write contest she never for one moment imagined a publishing contract would be the result. Now she’s thrilled to have achieved her dream, and to be writing for her favourite Mills & Boon line is the icing on the cake.

She loves to contrast her daily life on the farm by spending time creating irresistible heroes and determined heroines whose love affairs play out in glamorous settings. You can visit her website at www.rachaelthomas.co.uk

This is Rachael’s debut story— we hope you love it as much as we do!

To my family and friends, who have supported me always as I’ve pursued my dream,

and to the wonderful friendships I’ve made along the way.

CHAPTER ONE

GEORGINA ENTERED THE sleek luxury of the office and knew she was being watched. Her every step scrutinised by a man who was revered and feared by businessmen and women alike.

‘Ms Henshaw.’ His deep voice, with a hint of accent, was firm and commanding. ‘I don’t think I need to ask why you are here.’

He leant against his desk, arms folded across his broad chest, as if he’d already decided he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. His black hair gleamed, but the intensity in his eyes nearly robbed her of the ability to speak.

‘I’m sure you don’t, Mr Ramirez.’ She injected as much firmness into her voice as she could, determined she wouldn’t be dismissed before she’d said all she had to say. ‘You are, after all, the cause of the problem.’

‘Am I indeed?’ Santos Lopez Ramirez locked his gaze with hers and for a moment she almost lost her nerve. Almost.

She studied his face, looking for a hint of compassion, but there was nothing. His mouth was set in a firm line that highlighted the harsh angles of his cheekbones, softened only slightly by his tanned complexion. His jaw was cleanshaven, but she didn’t miss the way he clenched it, as if biting back his words.

‘You know you are.’ She paused briefly before continuing. ‘You are the one person who is preventing Emma and Carlo from doing what they want.’

‘So what are you going to do about it, Ms Henshaw?’

As he raised his brows in question a flutter of nerves took flight in her stomach. But now was the time to be the woman the world thought she was—the cold and manipulative woman who took exactly what she wanted in life and discarded what she didn’t.

‘I will do whatever it takes to make it happen, Mr Ramirez.’

The butterflies dissipated as she thought of Emma, of all the dreams of a fairytale wedding her younger sister so often spoke about. Her own ideas of love and happiness had long since been shattered, but she wanted her sister to find that dream.

‘That’s a very bold statement.’

Bold. Stupid. It didn’t matter what he thought. All she cared about was Emma’s happiness—happiness was something neither of them had experienced much of in recent years.

‘I’m a very bold woman, Mr Ramirez.’

He smiled. An indolent smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat and nerves almost swarmed over her as he unfolded his arms and took a purposeful step towards her.

‘I admire that in a woman.’

Tall and unyielding, he stood before her. And despite the spacious office, the wall of windows and the sparse furnishings, he dominated the room.

She stood her ground, refusing to move, to be intimidated. ‘Your admiration is not the reason I’m here.’

‘I don’t have time for games, Ms Henshaw.’

‘I have a deal to put to you, Mr Ramirez.’ He couldn’t dismiss her yet. It had been hard enough getting past his secretary, and she didn’t intend to waste the opportunity.

‘A deal?’

‘I meant what I said.’ She spoke firmly, determined he should never know just how anxious she was, how desperate to achieve her aim. ‘I will do whatever it takes.’

* * *

Santos took in the determined jut of the brunette’s chin. She looked so arrogantly sure of herself that he wondered if she was going to start the Paso Doble right there in his office.

Lust hurtled through his body at the images such thoughts brought to mind.

‘And why would you want to do that?’

Santos returned to his chair and sat down, his gaze running over her body. The charcoal skirt and jacket, although professional and businesslike, did little to disguise her womanly figure. The tantalising hint of a lace camisole beneath the jacket caught his eye, but it was the heels she wore that stole the show. Her designer leopard print heels not only spoke volumes about the real woman, but showcased the most fantastic pair of legs he’d seen in ages. He was entranced, but it was the attitude radiating from her glorious body that really intrigued him.

‘Emma is my sister and I want her to be happy.’

The intensity of her gaze as she spoke only aroused his interest further.

‘I’ll do anything to achieve that.’

He rose from his chair, his body suddenly restless, to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. He surveyed the view of London glinting in the autumn sunshine, recalling all he’d discovered about the sister of quiet and demure Emma, the woman his half-brother Carlo was currently dating. A situation that had thrown everything into turmoil.

This woman certainly had a reputation. Widowed at twenty-three, and having been left a substantial fortune, she now led a socialite lifestyle and was never short of male company. A mercenary woman, if the circumstances of her marriage were to be believed.

‘And just how far are you prepared to go in the name of sisterly love?’

Behind him he heard her intake of breath and knew he’d touched a nerve. A stab of desire shot through him as he imagined her sighing in pleasure as he kissed her. Quickly he regained control. Now was not a good time to find himself attracted to a woman—especially one with such a tarnished and scandalous reputation. He had a business to run. One that was a contentious issue between himself and Carlo. One he had to find a solution to quickly. Time was running out.

‘As I have already said, Mr Ramirez, I will do whatever it takes.’ Her voice had a slightly husky quality to it, which threatened to undo his control, so he remained focused on the view of London a moment longer.

Finally he turned to face her, strode across the thick carpet until he stood at her side, his right arm almost touching her shoulder. He looked sideways down at her, catching her light floral scent as he did so. Not the sort usually favoured by a woman of her reputation—it was soft and very feminine.

‘So you agree with their plans to marry...your sister and my brother?’

She stood firm, like a soldier on parade being inspected by a commanding officer. He walked slowly round behind her, admiration building. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move. His gaze was drawn to the streaks of fiery red which entwined in her hair and again he thought of her in his bed, hair wildly fanned out across the pillow.

‘Why shouldn’t they get married?’

Her words drew him sharply back. ‘They are young,’ he said quietly, and walked away from her. Being close distracted him, took his mind from the current problem to more primal matters. ‘Too young.’

‘They are in love.’ The words flew at him across the room with such passion that he stopped to look at her, wondering if she was as indifferent and in control as she wanted him to think. He looked at her beautiful face, the firm set of her full lips and the haughty rise of her brows. Had he just imagined that spark of passion? Conjured it up because of the direction his thoughts had gone? He must have done. As she stood before him she was not only sculpted from ice but frozen to the core.

A challenge indeed.

‘And you believe in love, do you?’ All through his younger years he’d been introduced to an endless stream of his father’s girlfriends. Then as a teenager he’d watched from the sidelines as his father had fallen under the spell of a younger woman. The love they’d shared and later bestowed on Carlo, his new brother, had been incomprehensible to him. It had done little to instil ideas of love and happiness in him.

‘About as much as you do.’

Her gaze met his, stubbornly holding it, provoking him to deny it.

‘Very perceptive, Ms Henshaw. We are, then, kindred spirits, able to enjoy the opposite sex without the drama of emotional attachment.’

This was always the attitude he’d adopted, and one that had begun to feel less and less favourable. But the idea of being so captivated by a woman, so completely under her spell it would make a man turn his back on his son, was even less appealing.

‘Put like that, then, yes, I suppose we are.’

* * *

Georgina cringed inwardly, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Was he really going to drag up her past, use it as a reason to stop his brother from marrying Emma? She wouldn’t let him—not when she now knew the real reason he didn’t want them to marry. She had to change his mind.

For a moment her nerves almost got the better of her. There was only one option she could think of to secure her sister’s happiness, and although it didn’t sit well with her she had to persuade him it was possible.

‘What exactly is it you want, Ms Henshaw?’

A distanced, almost bored tone had entered his voice and she watched him stalk back to the windows, looking more like a caged animal than a businessman.

‘I want to put a business proposition to you.’

He turned instantly, his interest piqued, and she stifled a smile of triumph. She was now talking his language. Business was what made this man tick. That was obvious.

‘A proposition? You?’

He moved back to his desk and gestured her to sit, the muscles of his arm rippling beneath his white shirt snagging her attention. Mentally she shook herself. Getting distracted by his good looks would not help her through this. And hadn’t she told herself months ago that relationships were not what she needed?

‘I’d prefer to stand,’ she said firmly, not missing the quirk of his dark brows.

‘As you wish.’

He sat behind his desk, his dark eyes watching her. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. She had to remain as calm and detached as possible. So much was riding on her being able to deliver her proposition in an efficient, businesslike manner.

‘I want my sister to be happy, and Carlo makes her happy.’ She tried to keep her voice steady and devoid of emotion. This hard businessman obviously believed all that was written about her in the press. He believed she was cast from the same mould as him. ‘From my understanding of the situation, there is only one solution.’

He didn’t say a word, waiting for her to continue. His silence unnerved her, but she had to stay strong, remain focused.

Quickly she pressed on. ‘I know about the condition in your father’s will.’

‘You are very well informed of my affairs, Ms Henshaw, but I fail to see what business of yours that is.’

His hard expression gave her a glimpse of the formidable businessman he was. She’d done her research on him. ‘I know you have built your business up to the international concern it is today since your father passed away, and that once either you or Carlo marry the business will pass solely to that brother.’ She paused, almost wanting to give up as she looked at him, his dark eyes as bleak as a starless night.

‘Full marks for research,’ he said, his voice as emotionless as she hoped hers was.

It had been Emma who had told her about the condition of the will. She’d sobbed for the loss of her dreams of marrying the man she loved, dreams of living happily ever after with Carlo, just because of the greed of his elder brother.

‘I also know Carlo doesn’t share your appetite for success. He has little or no interest in the business, wanting only to live a normal life married to my sister.’

‘A normal life?’

She knew he was stalling, being evasive. Wouldn’t she hate it if he picked apart her private affairs? But she had to carry on before she lost all confidence in her plan. For Emma she had to do it, just as she’d had to five years ago.

‘A life that isn’t centred on a business but one that is centred on a happy family home.’ The words flowed from her with practised ease.

‘And an example of that would be your own family, would it?’

She felt her eyes widen, shocked he’d brought it up. ‘I see you have done your own research, Mr Ramirez, but my parents’ marriage has nothing to do with Emma and Carlo.’

‘I have no wish for my family name to be joined by marriage to a woman’s whose mother is an alcoholic and whose father has been absent so long nobody knows where he is.’

‘So it has nothing to do with your power-hungry need to take the business from Carlo by preventing this marriage?’ Her heartbeat was rising and her emotions were beginning to take over. She had to remain composed.

‘They have sent you here to plead their case, have they?’

He glowered at her. But her last words seemed only to have bounced off his tough exterior. She took a deep breath, wanting to appear poised before she spoke again.

He laced his long tanned fingers together in front of him on the desk in a relaxed fashion, but Georgina knew he was anything but relaxed. The firm set of his broad shoulders gave that away. He was confident, self-assured and powerful.

‘On the contrary, Mr Ramirez, they have no idea I’m here and I want it to stay that way.’

One dark brow quirked up, but he said nothing.

‘I can see only one way to secure their happiness...’ She paused, refusing to be drawn. ‘And to satisfy your insatiable need for business success.’

He leant forward at his desk. ‘And that is?’

‘You get married first, inherit the business, and leave them to enjoy a happy married life together.’

As he looked at her his handsome face set in a mask so emotionless she blinked in shock. Did this man not have any compassion in his heart?

‘As you seem to have it all worked out, who do you suggest I marry?’ The question came out slowly, as if he was sure he’d foiled her plan.

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. She mustn’t show any nerves, any fear. He was like a predatory lion and she knew he’d smell it.

‘Me.’

There—she’d said it. And now she had she wanted to bolt like a frightened animal. He didn’t say a word. Not a trace of emotion could be seen on his face. Silence hung between them, and a tension so taut she thought it was going to snap with a crack at any moment.

* * *

Shock rocked through Santos as he listened to her ridiculous proposition. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear, but then her reputation should have given him forewarning. She already had one marriage behind her—one that had made her a very wealthy woman indeed. And if rumour was to be believed it had not been a love-match.

‘Why, exactly, would I wish to get married? And to you, of all women?’

His voice was hard, his accent suddenly more pronounced. He sounded dangerous.

Briefly Santos saw pain flash across her face, saw the curling of her manicured fingers and wished the words unsaid. Marriage was the one thing he wanted to avoid at all costs, but even though his legal team were working on a solution he had to consider the option. If he wanted to save his business, and the last five years of hard work since his father had first become ill, he might actually have to take a wife. So wouldn’t this woman, who had so willingly walked into the lion’s den, be the perfect choice? Costly, maybe, if her track record was anything to go by, but he could deal with that.

‘It wouldn’t be a marriage in the true sense of the word.’

Her words, spoken with conviction, dragged his attention back to her face.

‘And what is that?’

‘A marriage for love, of course—like the one your brother and my sister wish to make. A commitment for life.’ Her words flowed freely, and once again he thought he heard a spark of passion.

Suspiciously he looked at her as he sat back again in his chair. ‘You are not looking for love, Ms Henshaw?’

‘Not at all, Mr Ramirez. I only want my sister’s happiness. I will do anything to achieve that. Once they are married we can annul our marriage and go separate ways.

Santos considered this wild suggestion more seriously. Would it hurt to go along with it for now—to have another option if his legal team were unable to sort out an alternative?

‘And you would want what, exactly, from this marriage?’ His mind raced. On a business level it made perfect sense. He would finally have the security of inheriting the business he’d built up and would have done his duty by his brother, freeing Carlo of obligations he had little or no interest in.

‘I want nothing from you other than our names on a marriage certificate. Once that is done we need not see each other. We just apply for an annulment.’

Her voice had hardened and his past rushed back at him. He saw the teenager who had hardly grieved for his controlling mother. Felt the pain as his father eventually remarried and moved on with a loving and kind woman whom Santos had resented. A woman who had changed his father, almost taking him away from his firstborn with the power of her love.

‘I find that hard to believe. You must want something.’ Experience had taught him that. Everyone wanted something. Everyone had a price.

‘Nothing more than I’ve already stated.’

Her cool, calm words sounded believable.

Santos thought of the conditions of the will and gritted his teeth against the memory of the day he’d realised what his manipulative father had done. It seemed this attractive woman knew a lot about the will, but she didn’t know it all. She hadn’t mentioned the other conditions that he would have to meet before finally inheriting. It wasn’t as simple as marriage.

‘I require more than that. My wife, when I take one, will be a wife in every sense of the word.’

Did she really think he was going to accept her proposition meekly, without attaching his own conditions? If he had to get married he’d rather do it for business than become as vulnerable as his father had after his second marriage. There was also the matter that he was a hot-blooded male and this woman had stirred his blood the second she’d walked proudly into his office.

Santos watched as realisation dawned on her pretty face, followed by defeat. But he said nothing more. To do so now would be to show his hand. He would never give away the fact that he actually saw her proposition as a serious option—his back-up plan.

‘I can’t do that.’ She gasped the words out, her face whitening before his eyes.

‘Then your very first words to me were lies.’

Part of him felt relieved. She hadn’t really been serious. But another part of him, the deal-chaser, wanted this—but on his terms. Marriage would not only secure the business but would put a stop to the endless rounds of parties. It would enhance his image in the business world, giving him what appeared to be a happy marriage, and it would mean he didn’t have to get emotionally involved. Something he avoided at all costs.

She still hadn’t spoken so he carried on, pushing forward his conditions, turning it completely to his advantage. ‘That is the only deal I’m prepared to make.’

* * *

Georgina’s heart sank. Was he seriously suggesting a real marriage—one that would entail her being at his side publicly and sleeping in his bed at night?

‘We know nothing of each other.’ She grabbed at the first thing that came to mind.

‘On the contrary, Georgina. I think we both know enough.’

The use of her name sent a warm tingle down her spine. His gaze fixed on hers so intently she felt as if he was physically holding her captive. Her pulse-rate leapt, then beat hard as she thought of spending the night in his bed, of being his wife in every sense of the word.

She couldn’t banish the image of him with one of his model-like women hanging on his arm. Would such a man as Santos Ramirez even want to be seen publicly with her? Worse still, would he find her lacking as a lover? No, lover wasn’t the right word. Would he find her lacking as a sexual partner?

‘I know that the world would never be fooled into thinking we had married for any other reason than convenience.’ She clutched awkwardly at excuses as she still struggled to take in what he wanted.

‘And that would be because you have already been married and widowed purely for financial gain.’

Pain lanced through her as she thought of Richard Henshaw—the man she’d married because she had been genuinely fond of him. The same man who had given her stability and security in her life for the first time ever. In that moment she hated Santos more than any other man for bringing Richard into it.

‘No.’ Her voice filled with entreaty. ‘Because I am nothing like the type of woman you date.’

He raised a brow, and a slight smile teased at the corners of his lips. ‘As far as people would know I’d have become besotted with you exactly because you are not like any woman I have ever dated.’

‘Would you really want people to think that instead of thinking we were married in name only to keep your business?’

‘I have no intention of anyone ever thinking I have married for business gain only.’ He looked steadily at her. ‘Especially Carlo.’

Georgina couldn’t take it in. Her whole plan had been turned upside down. He’d taken complete and utter control of the situation and turned it into something she just couldn’t think of doing.

‘How is that achievable?’

She struggled to comprehend how Emma would ever believe she had married such a man simply because she wanted to. Not now Emma knew all about her first marriage and the reasons behind it.

‘You said that nobody knows you are here—is that not true?’

‘No, nobody,’ she replied, trying to grasp where this was leading.

‘Good,’ he said, and stood up, making her feel small and insignificant as he moved around his desk to stand before her once more. ‘I will host a party tomorrow evening, to which you and Emma are invited.’

‘How is that going to help?’ Georgina couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

He smiled. A lazy smile that did nothing to hide his amusement at the situation. ‘We won’t be able to leave each other alone; the attraction will be obvious to all there. Then we will spend the entire weekend together, maybe longer, after which we shall make the announcement.’

The tone of his voice had changed, giving it a warm depth, and she had the distinct impression that if he was really attracted to her she would be unable to resist. A tingle shimmied down her spine, causing her pulse-rate to leap—which had nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the dark and possibly dangerous man who watched her intently.

‘Okay,’ she said quickly, aware that her voice had become a husky whisper. She wanted to push on with her plans but hoped she could change his mind later. A real marriage surely wasn’t necessary. ‘We’ll do it your way.’

‘There was never any doubt about that, querida.’

CHAPTER TWO

GEORGINA’S ANXIETY LEVELS had risen tenfold since entering the hotel where Santos was having his impromptu party. Her sister, who was so excited, believing a party meant there was hope for her and Carlo to be married, had vanished from her side the moment they arrived. Georgina now felt conspicuous as she stood just inside the doorway of the hotel room.

‘Buenas noches, Ms Henshaw.’

She looked up at Santos, her breath catching as he moved closer to her. He was immaculately dressed in a dark suit and tie, the white of his shirt enhancing his attractive tan. The smile on his lips was warm and welcoming. That same warmth reached his eyes as he took her hand. The touch of his fingers as he lightly held hers made her shiver, as if a feather had been trailed down her spine.

Speak, she told herself firmly. Don’t let his act of attraction distract you.

‘Good evening, Mr Ramirez,’ she said, injecting firmness into her voice as she remembered they were not yet supposed to have met. She certainly didn’t want Emma to discover what she was about to do. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you at last.’

He quirked a brow, and she wondered if she’d gone too far, but around her they were already drawing speculative gazes. It seemed to Georgina that the elite of London society were here—and all at his request.

‘Please, call me Santos,’ he said as he lifted her hand to his lips.

Her stomach did a strange flutter as those lips brushed sensuously over the back of her hand. Stunned into silence, she was mesmerised by his dark hair as he lowered his head. The barely controlled waves of shiny black hair looked so inviting she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. Then he straightened, towering over her once more, his gaze locking with hers.

Don’t go there, she warned herself, and tried to pull back her hand, but his fingers tightened on hers. A sexy smile spread across his lips and she dragged in a ragged breath, then swallowed hard. What was she doing, allowing this man to get to her?

‘The pleasure is mine.’ His words were deep and uneven. He didn’t let her hand go, instead forcing her to stay, so that she could do nothing other than stand there. She looked into the ever darkening depths of his eyes and felt a sizzle of awareness slide over her like the slow thaw of mountain snow. Shy and flustered was something she’d never felt—but, far worse, she knew she was already out of her depth. How was she ever going to get through the evening when he turned on charm like this?

She would because she had to. She was doing this for Emma’s happiness. She clutched her bag, thinking of the few essentials she’d slipped into it, knowing she wasn’t going to be returning home that night.

She smiled, more to herself than anyone else, determined not to let this man’s charisma knock her off balance. It was all for show, and if he could do it then so could she.

‘Something is amusing you?’ His fingers traced a slow, teasing circle on the palm of her hand, making tingles race along her arm. She wanted to pull away, wanted to break the contact, yet couldn’t. Somewhere deep inside her something stirred—an emotion long since locked away.

‘I was merely admiring your charm.’ She smiled up at him, pulling herself closer against him. It felt flirty. Dangerous. ‘I’m sure women just drop at your feet.’

He laughed. A soft rumble that made her tremble. Instinctively she tried to pull her hand free. Again his fingers tightened and his eyes darkened, and for a moment her eyes locked with his. She drew in a quick breath as she saw the sparks of desire within those dark depths. Her body responded to the primal call of his as heady heat thundered around her.

‘That is always my intention, querida.’

He smiled down at her, letting her hand go so that she felt suddenly bereft of his contact—like a ship torn from its anchor to drift in the harbour.

‘Champagne?’

She blinked, not quite able to keep up with his train of thought. Glancing around her, she caught her sister’s eye as she chatted with other guests, Carlo at her side. Emma looked radiant and happy, and Georgina knew there was no going back now. Just as she had done five years ago, she had to put Emma first. She’d done it once, and she could do it again, but Emma must never know.

‘Champagne would be lovely,’ she purred, being as flirtatious as she possibly could. Maybe a little champagne was just what she needed to boost her confidence.

With his hand in the small of her back she moved into the room, aware of the curious glances being directed their way. Santos handed her a flute of champagne, but her head was becoming light, as if she’d already had several glasses of the bubbly liquid. She couldn’t quite believe how this handsome and powerful businessman was able to make her feel so special, so fresh and alive. His charm offensive was potent, making her feel unique and, worse than that, desired. If this was how he was going to play out their planned public scene of attraction she would have to be careful, remind herself it was all an act. Because right now it felt very real. And she liked it.

* * *

Santos couldn’t help but watch Georgina as she sipped her champagne. The need to act as if he were attracted to her had gone out of the window the moment she’d entered the room. He’d heard the hush, felt the ripple of interest, and had been as mesmerised by her as every other man in the room.

Still looking as proud and defiant as she had yesterday in his office, she’d stood framed in the doorway. The jade silk of her dress skimmed over her body, neither revealing nor concealing her curves. A black wrap hung loosely off her shoulders, and he’d been unable to take his eyes off the creamy expanse of her skin, broken only by the thin jade straps. Her neck was bare of any jewellery—something many of the women he knew couldn’t carry off.

Even if he hadn’t had to go up to her and start the charade of attraction he would have wanted to. The same kick of lust he’d felt yesterday had stirred in his veins once again, propelling him towards her. As he’d taken her hand, enjoying the softness of her skin, he had known he wanted her.

‘Your plan is working.’ He leant down and whispered against her hair, the fresh scent of it invading his senses, making his pulse throb with unquenched desire.

She pulled back from him, confusion filling her eyes, her fingers clutching tightly to her glass. ‘It is?’

He heard the uncertainty in her voice and had the strangest desire to stroke his fingers down her cheek. An affectionate gesture he’d never normally think of making. Just what was it about this woman that stirred something unknown deep within him?

‘With your dedication to the role, how could anyone question what they are seeing?’ She turned away, exchanging her empty glass for another bubble-filled one.

The brittleness of her words reminded him just who he was dealing with. Georgina Henshaw was an avaricious woman who, with one marriage already behind her, could play his game with as much detachment as he employed.

He watched her beautiful yet emotionless face as she scanned the room, her eyes finally resting on her sister. With a sternness that would have become any teacher her gaze followed Emma as she moved across the room, until she nestled herself against his brother.

Unable to stop himself from watching the loving moment, he saw how his brother looked down at Emma. Saw the open adoration in the young woman’s eyes. Even as Carlo dipped his head and kissed her he couldn’t avert his gaze. Whatever it was between them was so powerful he felt it from the other side of the room. Just as he had done as a youth, when Carlo’s mother had first met his father, he felt excluded. It was almost as if he’d gone back in time, watching Carlo grow strong from his mother’s love while he could only look on.

‘They make a good couple, don’t they?’

Georgina’s words dragged him back from a past he rarely visited. For a moment he was disorientated.

‘They don’t have to marry to prove that.’

He couldn’t keep the harshness from his words. Beside him Georgina stiffened, as if she was taking a step back from him. He forced his mind to more pleasant thoughts—like the way the woman at his side stirred his desires like no other.

‘I hope you aren’t going back on our deal, Mr Ramirez?’

He deflected her sharp-toned words with a smile. ‘Santos,’ he said softly, placing his arm across her shoulders and pulling her body against his, relishing the warmth of it. ‘I think you should call me Santos. If you want this to work.’

He looked down into her upturned face. Her eyes darkened until they reminded him of the depths of a forest. Her full lips parted slightly and he felt the heavy tug of desire.

He wanted her.

Slowly he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. Her breath mingled with his, warming his mouth, and he imagined the sensation of her sighing in pleasure. This was going to be a very interesting night.

Briefly her lips responded. Softening beneath his. And his whole body suddenly ached for hers. It was stronger than the heady lust that usually coursed through his blood when he kissed a woman. This was potent. Vibrant and alive. It was more powerful than anything he’d known before.

* * *

Georgina’s body heated as his lips touched hers, the contact so light it almost didn’t happen. Involuntarily she closed her eyes as the liquid warmth of desire slid over her. She swayed closer to him, felt his arm, strong and firm, draw her closer.

She knew there and then that he had power over her. He had the ability to stir emotions she never again wanted to explore, and she would have to be on her guard.

Her fingers clutched the stem of the glass in her hand as she hardened herself against what she was feeling. This wasn’t for real. This was all an act. And if she didn’t keep that in mind she’d make a fool of herself, because at this moment in time she wanted nothing more than to be kissed by Santos.

Not this light, lingering kiss. After several years without experiencing the intimacy of any kiss she knew he’d awakened something deep within her. She wanted more. Her body hungered for passion. To her horror, she realised her body hungered for him.

But she couldn’t let that happen. She had to stay in control—not just of herself, but of the situation. Never could she allow herself to become a woman so desperate for love that she’d beg a man to stay, as her mother had done to her father. In Santos she recognised the same inability to commit to a relationship her father had possessed. He would be the worst man for her to give her heart to.

No, to allow Santos to know just how easily he could stir her hidden and unexplored desires would be fatal.

She pulled away from him and looked into his smouldering eyes. He was good. Nobody could question what he was thinking right now. He looked as if he wanted to ravish her right there in the middle of the party.

A tingle raced around her at the thought and her breathing deepened. It was as if her body was working in opposition to her heart and her head, and it was winning.

She flirted back at him, ignoring the heavy ache of her limbs and the throb of desire deep inside her. ‘Santos, that was...’ She paused and looked beyond him into the throng of partygoers who mingled around them, looked to her sister. ‘Amazing,’ she finished, hoping he’d think the husky note in her voice was part of her act and not something she had little or no control over—a reaction to him.

‘Amazing, huh?’

His voice was deeper and his accent, which had only been a hint before, much stronger. He sounded sexy. Too sexy.

‘Definitely. Emma looks so shocked. I’m certain she’ll believe there is something between us.’ She moved against him as she spoke, felt the firmness of his body and tried to ignore the sizzle of electricity zipping around hers.

‘And what about you, querida? Do you believe it?’

He smiled down at her, pulling her just a little closer, so that she could feel her breasts pressing against his chest. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she couldn’t say a word.

Focus, she reminded herself. Focus on why you’re even here with him.

‘I believe we look convincing.’ She hated the way her voice stammered, and to hide it lifted her chin and raised a brow at him.

He laughed. A soft sound she felt rumbling against her. It was all too close, too personal. She tried to step back from him but he pressed his hand firmly into the small of her back, bringing her hip close against him.

She gasped as she felt the hardness of his arousal, and nerves made her heart beat wildly—so hard she could feel the pulse in her neck throbbing. His dark eyes, smouldering with desire, met hers.

‘I too am convinced.’

His voice was a harsh whisper as he spoke against her ear, his breath blowing on her neck, making it tingle.

‘I am also convinced that now would be a good time to leave this damned party.’

She turned her head towards him, intending to speak, to try and douse the fire that had ignited between them. A fire she could never allow to burn. Her cheek touched his as he lowered his head and, following some kind of instinct she’d never before experienced, she moved until his lips were against hers.

Briefly her gaze locked with his, then her eyelids fluttered closed as the pressure of his lips met hers. The kiss was hard, demanding much more. She wound her arms around his neck, one hand still clutching her empty champagne flute, and gave herself up to the mastery of this man’s kiss. Her lips and her body asked for more and he responded, making her heart thump hard.

His tongue slid into her mouth, entwining with hers. He tasted wild and untamed. She sighed, making him deepen the kiss, and he began to invade every cell of her body with a heady desire she’d never known before.

Heaven help her, she wanted this man. Wanted him in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

Just when she thought she couldn’t remain standing against him any longer he broke the kiss. She slid her arms down slowly from his neck and he took the glass from her hand, putting it on a nearby table. Cool air rushed around her as their bodies parted and she felt exposed, naked, as if everyone in the room would be able to see just how much her body wanted his.

Santos’s gaze slid over her, just as it had done when she’d entered the room, but this time her skin sizzled. When it lingered on her breasts her knees weakened and breathing was suddenly the hardest thing to do. She was transfixed, unable to move, unable to hide from his open desire.

Around them the noise of the party slowly came back to her and she was thankful that they were not alone. What would she have done if they were?

She’d have made a big mistake, that was what. She would have allowed passion and champagne to take over, allowed them to destroy everything, exposing emotions and leaving her vulnerable. She’d seen it with her mother, knew the consequences, and had promised herself she’d never allow that to happen to her.

‘We leave now.’

His voice, though still deep and throaty, radiated total command and, afraid hers would sound weak and trembling, she nodded in agreement.

With his hand possessively in the small of her back he propelled her towards the door. Partygoers stepped aside for them. Envious glances from women came her way. The cool façade she lived behind slipped firmly back into place. She lifted her chin, smiled, and walked proudly at Santos’s side.

What would they think if they knew the truth? Would they gasp in shock at the calculated plan she was acting out?

‘Georgie?’ Emma’s voice filtered through the defensive wall she’d quickly rebuilt, despite the hum of her body.

She looked into her sister’s face and saw genuine happiness. It shone from her eyes so brightly that she knew she was doing the right thing. She touched Emma’s arm and gave her a secretive smile. The smile of a woman who was being swept away by the most magnetic man she’d ever met.

‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

Emma’s smile widened and she looked from her to Santos and back again. ‘Okay.’ She grinned and turned to leave, obviously in a hurry to tell Carlo.

‘Let’s go,’ Georgina said, without looking at Santos. The taste of deception was strong in her mouth.

‘I like it.’

His voice purred like a big cat content to take it easy for a while. He led her out of the noise of the party into the hotel foyer. The lights were brighter—too bright—as if she was now under his spotlight. His gaze slid down her again, desire still sparking in his eyes despite the latent control in his voice.

‘What do you like?’ she questioned sharply as he began to lead her out onto the streets. She shivered against the cold autumn air.

‘Georgie.’

Emma’s pet name for her sounded so exotic on his lips—sexy, even. Her body heated despite the wind, which blew her hair quickly into disarray. She combed her fingers through it, gathering it at her neck, trying to prevent herself from becoming a totally dishevelled mess.

‘I prefer Georgina,’ she said, trying to ignore the way her body hummed as he took her hand and pulled her close against him. Was this what it was like to be protected?

Minutes later she was in the back of his chauffeur-driven car. The light from the streetlamps cast a glow around the interior and she glanced at Santos, startled to find he was watching her intently.

She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap, unable to look into the heat of his eyes.

‘You are a very beautiful woman.’

Georgina tensed. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. ‘You can drop the act now.’ Her words were stiff and she looked up at his face. The angles of his cheekbones were severe in the ever-changing light.

‘I’m enjoying the role.’ His deep voice seemed to ripple around the car, sending pinpricks of heat rushing over her. ‘And you never know who may be listening or watching.’

Georgina glanced at the chauffeur, who appeared to be concentrating on driving. She heard Santos laugh softly and her gaze flew to meet his once more. He really was charming—but on a lethal level. Somewhere deep inside her she recognised him as the kind of man who could hurt her or, worse, destroy her. He was the same type of devil-may-care man her mother had fallen for time and time again, and exactly like her father.

‘You don’t really think I’ll buy that, do you?’ She raised a brow at him, infusing indifference into her body with each syllable.

Cool and aloof. That was the protection she needed.

‘My staff are nothing but discreet,’ he replied as the car came to a stop outside some very exclusive riverside apartments.

‘That is a relief—but then I suppose I’m just another on a very long list as far as they are concerned.’ The haughty demeanour she routinely hid behind sounded in her voice, and from the look on his face, the frown that furrowed his brow, she knew she’d scored a direct hit.

With one final look at her he got out of the car, almost instantly appearing at her door. He held out his hand for her, but the look on his face suggested he was far from happy. For a moment she was worried. Had she pushed things just a little too far, taunting him like that? A man like him was used to people pandering to his ego.

She had the sudden urge to bolt past him and run away. Reason followed swiftly. She wouldn’t help her sister like that, and the shoes she was wearing certainly hadn’t been created for running.

‘If you want to drop this charade you can go home now.’ His voice was rough, edged with exasperation. ‘But just remember, querida, it was your idea.’

He was right. She had started this and she would finish it—but only when she knew her sister could marry the man she loved without any implications from this power-hungry man who now stood waiting for her, looking devastatingly sexy. Did he really mean to keep this up, even in private?

For a moment she wondered if she’d already done enough. They’d been seen leaving the party together. Then she remembered Emma’s smile, the hope that had shone from her eyes. Georgina realised that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, whether they believed their whirlwind romance was real. It only mattered what Emma thought. There was no way she could let her sister think that yet again she was marrying to secure her future. Emma was all she cared about.

She could do this—even if it meant continuing with the charade of attraction.

Taking his hand, she stepped out of the car and looked up at the tall modern building. She’d never given any thought to where he might live, but the clean, precise lines of this apartment block didn’t surprise her.

‘I suppose you have the top floor, complete with river views?’

‘Very perceptive of you.’

His voice had lowered to a steely tone, interwoven with charm, and her stomach fluttered irrationally.

‘It seems you do know something about me after all.’

Yes, I do. I know too much. I know you have an abundance of charm and the ability to break a woman’s heart.

‘It was merely an observation.’ Georgina kept the words light as he gestured her towards the entrance of the building. She was beginning to feel disorientated by him, by his seductive tone and sexy smiles. She couldn’t allow that to happen. As far as she was concerned once his name was on their marriage certificate and her sister was married all contact would be severed. She had no intention of becoming a real wife. Whatever motivation was behind that absurd request she would find a way out of it. She had to.

The lift doors closed on them with expensive silence and as they were taken upwards she kept her eyes straight ahead, watching the doors, not daring to look at him or at their reflection, which seemed to mock her from all sides. She could feel the intensity of his gaze, but refused to meet it. She didn’t dare. He was still acting the part of an attracted and attentive man and it was beginning to stir emotions she’d long since locked away.

She almost let out a sigh of relief as the lift doors opened. The opulence of the corridor wasn’t lost on her. He wrapped his arm around her, so her elbow nestled in the palm of his hand, and she moved towards the door of his apartment, a sense of dread filling her.

‘Do we really need to take it this far?’ The words left her in a rush, before she’d had time to consider them.

He stopped outside the white double doors to his apartment, his arm still around her, keeping her close. She looked up at him, desperate to keep calm. He mustn’t know just how unnerved he made her feel.

‘Yes—if you want authenticity you need to be seen leaving here tomorrow morning.’ Amusement lightened his eyes before he turned to open the doors.

‘We could have just stayed at the hotel...’ She clutched at the idea, not daring to cross the threshold, not wanting to be alone with him—especially on his territory.

‘On the contrary.’ He smiled that heart-stopping smile that could very easily make her think she was the only woman he saw, the only woman he wanted. ‘To bring you here gives a clear message to everyone who knows me—including my brother.’

With his arm firmly around her, he walked into the apartment. She had no choice but to go too. Her heels clicked on a marble floor and the low lighting hinted at a very sparse and masculine living space.

‘I don’t understand...’ The words rushed out on an unsteady breath as he finally moved away from her. At least she could breathe properly, now he wasn’t so close.

Dropping his keys onto a table, he took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a large black leather sofa. Unable to keep her eyes off him, she watched as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Dark tanned skin drew her eyes and she had to force herself to look away.

‘I never bring a woman back to my apartment.’

The implication of his words sank in. He was giving a very clear message—not just to Carlo, but to her. He wanted the business so badly he was prepared not only to accept her proposal of marriage, but to do everything to make it look real. Even appear to cast aside his womanising reputation and ways and take her as his wife.

‘I should be honoured, then,’ she replied flippantly, in an attempt to hide her thoughts.

He might be able to discard the way he lived for the sake of his business, but she couldn’t quite let slip the distant demeanour she hid behind. After all, it wasn’t a business she was doing it for, but the love of her sister.

‘The first woman to spend a night here with you?’

* * *

Santos flicked on a light, wanting to see Georgina’s face better. In fact he wanted to see more than just her face. All evening her soft skin had teased his senses—so much so that he’d done the one thing he never did with any woman. He’d kissed her publicly. Not just a light brush of lips on lips either, but a desire-laden kiss that held a promise of passion and satisfaction.

‘More champagne?’

He should just be showing her to her room, as he’d intended when he’d formed this bizarre back-up plan yesterday. But even then, as she’d stood so proudly in his office, he’d found the cocktail of icy control laced with underlying passion tempting. Too tempting. And challenging. What man could refuse such a challenge?

‘No, thanks.’

Her frosty tone made it clear the ice maiden was back. He watched as she walked across the room to look down on the Thames, at the city’s lights reflected in the dark water.

Ordinarily, if he’d taken a woman back to a hotel suite, he wouldn’t be thinking of any kind of drink. He would be enjoying holding her, kissing her, and thinking only of satisfying their sexual needs. But this was different.

It unnerved him, but he quickly pushed the notion to the back of his mind. It was different simply because of the deal they’d struck. Never before had he spent time with a woman for any other reason than that he wanted to.

‘Coffee?’

‘No, thanks.’ She turned to face him. ‘We both know this isn’t for real, and there isn’t anyone here to witness anything more, so can we just say goodnight and go to bed—separately?’

He raised his brows at that last word and was rewarded with a light flush to her cheeks, giving her an air of innocence. Their eyes met and for a moment it was as if everything hung in the balance. Boldly she held his gaze. Did she have any idea how magnificent she looked? A glacial beauty with barely concealed simmering passion.

‘I’ll show you to your room.’

He turned and broke the contact, but could feel her gaze following him. A sizzle of desire zipped through him and he gripped his hands into fists. If she could be so coldly in control, then so could he.

Her heels tapped rhythmically as she walked behind him, out of the vast open space of the living area and into a long corridor. He stopped outside a door, opened it, and reached in to flick on the light. ‘I trust this will be comfortable for you?’

Then he looked at her face, saw a moment of hesitancy in eyes which now sparkled like rich mahogany.

‘If you need anything I’ll be in here.’

He pushed open the door to the master bedroom, where the lights of the city were visible for miles through large windows.

‘I won’t need anything,’ she said, lifting her chin defiantly, and he fought hard the urge to lower his head and capture those full lips beneath his. He wanted to taste her again, to feel her mould to his body as if she were meant to be there.

‘I’ll see you in the morning, then,’ he said, and stepped away from her—away from the temptation of her body, away from the sweet seductive scent that wrapped itself around him.

In that moment he realised he was no better than his father if he couldn’t allow this woman to sleep alone. But she fired something deep within him. Something so powerful he didn’t want to ignore it.

‘Goodnight,’ she whispered. and moved into the room, using the door to shield her glorious body from his view, apprehension clear in her eyes.

Anger simmered in his blood, mixing with unquenched desire. He was worse than his father, moving from one woman to the next. Memories from childhood, of watching an endless stream of woman enter his home, surfaced like a tidal wave. Was he now just as bad, if he couldn’t walk away from Georgina?

‘Goodnight.’ His voice was harsh as he battled with emotions long since packed away.

Damn it all—this was a business arrangement, a means to an end. If he couldn’t get out of that clause in the will legally, then he would damn well take her up on her proposition. Keeping the business was his priority. Nothing else mattered. And if Georgina had offered herself as a sacrificial lamb, so be it. Soon she would be his wife, and he had no intention of saying goodnight then.

CHAPTER THREE

GEORGINA WOKE WITH a start. Her heart thumped in her chest like a hammer as she tried to blink away the images that had haunted her sleep. Images of Santos kissing her, wanting her. Images that had heated her body as surely as if he had spent the night next to her.

She dragged in a sharp breath and looked around the room, different now the calm light of dawn was casting its glow. Her jade dress was draped over a chair, just where she’d left it, and she pulled the sheet tighter against her, feeling suddenly naked in her underwear.

Waking up in a man’s bed, even if it was only the guest bed, was something she wasn’t used to. She groaned at the thought of the field-day the press would have if they ever found out.

She hadn’t given a thought to the morning as she’d left the party last night. Her mind had been elsewhere, thanks to Santos’s charm attack.

In that moment she knew she couldn’t face him. There was only one option. She had to leave now.

Could she make a quick getaway? The thought raced into her head and quickly she flung back the sheet and grabbed her dress. The silk was cool against her skin as she stepped into it and embarrassment washed over her as she thought of all those who’d know about this walk of shame.

She would be able to slip away without seeing Santos, she reassured herself, especially at this early hour.

She washed her face in the en-suite bathroom, trying hard to remove the traces of last night’s make-up before applying fresh mascara and lipstick—all she’d been able to fit into her evening bag.

At the bedroom door she paused, took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to calm before slowly opening it. Silence greeted her and she smiled, sure she was going to be able to slip away. With her bag in her hand and sandals dangling from her fingers she closed the door and padded softly along the wooden floor of the hallway, but as she entered the vast open living space the smell of strong coffee greeted her.

Her heart sank.

Someone was up.

Did Santos have a housekeeper who prepared breakfast for him? Yes, that must be it. Could she slip out without whoever it was in the kitchen noticing her? Quietly she walked across the huge room, feeling more like an intruder with every step.

‘Going somewhere?’

The deep, seductive tones of Santos’s voice halted her in her tracks. She turned to look at him and tried not to react to the sexy image he created in denims and a shirt. Casual suited him. But she didn’t want to dwell on that now.

‘Home, of course.’ She kept her voice bright, as if this scenario was one she was familiar with, and met his gaze. Lifting her chin, she made every effort to appear totally indifferent to him—which was hard when he stood before her, cool and powerful, just like the man who had haunted her through her dreams last night.

‘This early?’ He pushed back the cuff of his shirt and looked at his watch, a small smile lingering on his lips. ‘I think you have time for a coffee first. Even the most hardened shoppers aren’t about this early on a Saturday.’

‘It’s not the shoppers I’m worried about,’ she said with a huff of exasperation. ‘Emma will be wondering where I am.’

‘Precisely.’

The curt word made her blink, and despite her need to get away she walked towards him. As she did so Santos turned and headed back into the kitchen, its sleek design as contemporary as the rest of the apartment.

‘How do you take your coffee?’

‘This is a game to you, isn’t it?’ She really wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. ‘We were seen leaving the party together and your housekeeper will know I’ve spent the night. I think that is enough, don’t you?’

Santos didn’t answer, and she found herself mesmerised as he poured the coffee. In her chest her heart was pounding, and a whole stream of butterflies had taken flight in her stomach.

It’s not him, she told herself firmly. It’s just that you haven’t been in this situation for years. It was exactly this kind of awkward morning-after she had witnessed her mother and her lovers enduring, and exactly what she’d then gone and done herself as a naive young woman. But she’d changed, and repeating her past wasn’t something she wanted to do.

‘Try this.’ He took her sandals and bag from her and replaced them with a steaming mug of black coffee. ‘And even if my housekeeper had seen you—assuming she was working, that is—I would expect nothing other than her discretion.’

He smiled at her, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered ever more wildly, but before she could respond he continued, ‘At least no one will know you didn’t sleep in my bed. That would really upset our plans.’

Georgina’s fingers burned, and she was sure it wasn’t just the mug of hot liquid in her hands. His touch, brief as it was, had jolted her with a voltage more powerful than any coffee. She took a sip—anything other than stand and look at him, fearing that if she did he would see just what an effect he was having on her.

‘We left the party together. It will have to be enough.’ She instilled as much courage into her voice as she could muster, which was difficult given the way her body now tingled.

Purposefully he moved past her, to place her shoes beneath a small ornamental table and drop her bag onto its glossy surface. His expression when he turned back to her was one of guarded control.

‘I’m not a man to do things by half, Georgina. If I do something, I do it properly.’ He stepped closer to her, the fresh scent of pine and his dark hair still slightly damp evidence that he’d recently showered.

She thought of his kiss last night at the party. The feel of his lips on hers, the way she hadn’t been able to do anything other than sway towards him, and knew he was right. He didn’t do anything by halves.

‘I’m sure you don’t, Mr Ramirez—’

‘Santos,’ he interrupted, his voice firm as he moved towards her.

He was coming so near she had to brace herself against the urge to move closer to him. The desire to experience his kiss just once more was almost overwhelming. She clung to her cup of coffee as if it were a lifeline.

Distance was what she needed. Distance was the safest option. She stepped back, out of the shadow of his power. She didn’t know what was the matter with her—she’d never experienced this before. It was insane. Of all the men to find herself attracted to, why did it have to be this man? She furrowed her brow.

‘If you don’t use my name, who is going to believe this charade of yours?’

He raised his brow in question at her. Did he really think he could get the better of her so easily?

‘You appear to be taking this far more seriously than me,’ she goaded, and took another sip of her coffee before placing it on the table. Then, turning to look directly at him, she added for good measure, ‘Santos.’

‘You can be assured of that, querida.’

His lips—the ones that had set light to a trail of heady need as he’d kissed her last night—spread into a smile of the kind that made his dark eyes sparkle, full of triumph.

‘I have as much to gain from this deal as you do.’

‘More, if your commitment to it is anything to go by.’ The words flew from her before she’d had time to think. She had to remember her goal—the sole reason she’d even approached this man in the first place. Antagonising him could put it all in jeopardy.

He didn’t respond with words, but she saw his expression change. The smile still lingered, but granite hardness blazed from his eyes and he folded his arms across his chest, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders.

‘Which is why I have made plans for us to go to Spain.’

Shock coursed through her body, leaving her almost gasping for air, as if she’d been plunged into a cold sea. ‘Why Spain? We can stay in London. Spend the weekend here together quite easily.’ She almost spluttered the last words. ‘Why do we need to go to Spain?’

Santos watched as her brown eyes widened in shock and decided he preferred her with less make-up. Her soft skin looked fresh, and he fought hard against that unfamiliar urge to reach out and brush his finger against it, feel its softness.

Mentally he shook himself. The morning after was always a time to be brief—a quick goodbye had never failed him before. So why did he want to keep her here? Was it because this morning wasn’t a normal morning-after? His body still fizzed with need, despite the cold shower he’d forced himself to stand under after he’d woken alone, knowing she was there, in his apartment, as untouchable as if she was the other side of the world.

‘My home is in Spain, and if we are to be married I can cut through the red tape far more easily there.’

He heard her sharp intake of breath, saw her shoulders stiffen. His gaze was drawn to the way the jade silk clung to her body. She was as desirable in the morning light as she’d looked in the subdued lights of the party last night.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. She wasn’t simpering and needy, looking for something that he couldn’t give. She was strong and as in control as he was. But underneath all that he sensed a passion that would engulf him, rendering him helpless, and that was a position he would never put himself in.

He would never be as weak as his father had been.

‘I still have to go home.’

She reached past him to grab her bag and sandals, her shoulder brushing his arm. He braced himself against the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her as he had done at the party.

‘A girl can’t flit off for a weekend with nothing more than her Friday evening outfit.’

Her voice was light, almost lyrical. She was obviously used to loving and leaving. She also appeared used to coping in situations like this, and he’d do well to remember that. He watched as she placed her hand on the table, leaning against it as she lifted one shapely leg and slipped on a sandal. Mesmerised, he watched her fiddle with the straps, her brunette hair cascading over her shoulder, shielding her face from his view.

She straightened, taller now. His gaze locked with hers and a sizzle of something undefinable zipped between them. She blinked, long lashes breaking the connection, and bent to put on her other sandal.

‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘What do I need for this wedding in Spain?’

He smiled. He hadn’t ever thought he would be getting married, and never in his wildest dreams had he imagined such a reluctant bride. Women usually fell over themselves to please him, and he knew if he’d asked the magic question to any one of the glamorous models he’d recently dated they would have been dragging him away.

‘Your passport and birth certificate is all you need to bring. I have everything else sorted.’

‘To perfection, by the sound of it. I suppose you have organised a pre-nuptial agreement?’ She pushed her thick hair behind her ear and looked straight at him, her eyebrows raised in question.

Of course he’d arranged a pre-nuptial agreement. Any man in his position would. He’d had his legal team on it since she’d left his office on Thursday—just as they’d been finding out if it would be quicker and easier for them to marry in Spain. Her track record showed an ability to marry for financial gain and, no matter how passionately she declared sisterly love as the reason behind her proposition, he’d decided to safeguard everything.

‘It would be foolish not to, querida.’

Her eyes sparked with burnished gold and he knew he’d hit a raw nerve. It was well known that she’d become a wealthy woman after her husband died.

‘Fine.’

The word crackled between them, and her lips were firmly pressed together, as if she was holding back what she really wanted to say.

He looked at her lovely face, her lips set in a firm line of discontent, and he couldn’t help himself. He reached out and brushed his fingers down her cheek. She didn’t move, didn’t pull away from him, just looked at him with such wide-eyed innocence he wondered if it was the same woman he’d met a few days ago.

‘It will protect us both.’ Her skin was so soft he wanted more. He stepped closer, the urge to kiss her stronger than anything he’d known.

‘I have packing to do.’

* * *

Georgina’s heart was pounding in her chest so hard she was sure he would be able to hear it. She couldn’t do this. Why ever had she thought it was a good idea? Had it really been her only option? Offering herself to a man renowned for his ruthless business tactics.

For a moment his gaze locked with hers, the dark depths of his eyes seeming to search hers as if looking into her soul. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any more he dropped his hand and moved away from her. As he’d done a few days ago in his office he walked to the windows and stood looking out over London.

She needed to go home and think. Once she was away from him she could think of other options, but she couldn’t do any of that if he was around. Just one smouldering look from his eyes made her pulse leap. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything for him, but the attraction that simmered like an undercurrent waiting to snare the unsuspecting unnerved her more than anything else.

‘My car will take you to your apartment and wait while you pack.’

‘Wait while I pack?’ She laughed. ‘Have you any idea how long it takes a woman to pack for a trip abroad?’ Not that she would count herself among one of those women, but she needed time alone.

‘Yes.’ He turned to face her. ‘As a matter of fact I do—which is why you will find just about anything you need waiting for you in Spain.’

‘You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?’ She couldn’t believe the calculated way he’d planned all this. From the party where they would first be seen together to the trip away to get married.

‘As I said, I do things properly. I cover every eventuality. Which is why my car will wait for you.’

‘I made a deal with you, Santos.’ Did he actually think she was going to run away? She was made of stronger stuff than that. ‘I have no intention of going back on that deal, despite the fact that you have manipulated the situation to your advantage.’

‘The “situation”, as you call it, will be to the advantage of both of us.’

He smiled and his eyes darkened with the promise of something she didn’t want to think of.

‘Of that you can be sure.’

CHAPTER FOUR

GEORGINA HAD THOUGHT the private jet was luxurious, but the villa, with its stunning sea view, was beyond anything she could have imagined. White curtains stirred in the breeze, making the sunlight dance across the marble floor. The fashionable furnishings offered every comfort possible, giving the villa the feel of a home.

She stood and looked out of the open doors, which led onto the terrace. The heat of the afternoon sun must be having an effect on her. She’d been here for several hours and still she couldn’t get over the world of opulence she’d entered. But, determined that Santos shouldn’t know how out of her depth she felt, she kept her awe of her new surroundings hidden.

‘We’ll eat out tonight.’

Santos’s voice brought her thoughts back to the present as he came to stand next to her. Each time he was near, her skin sizzled and anticipation zinged down her spine, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t go there. This was a business deal and nothing more. She could never allow it to be more.

She dragged her gaze from the sparkling sea and turned to face him. He too had changed. He’d washed away the hours spent travelling and stood before her looking more relaxed then she’d seen him before. She couldn’t help herself and allowed her gaze to linger, to take in the latent strength of his body as he walked across the room to the doors of the terrace. The commanding strength he exuded excited her and terrified her at the same time.

‘Would that be to keep up the pretence of an affair?’ The words slipped from her mouth with practised ease, the facetious tone one she regularly used. ‘It’s obvious now why we are here.’

‘Is it?’

Damn him, he appeared to be laughing at her. His new, relaxed mood made him smile at her prickly demeanour. It was as if he was genuinely flirting with her, teasing her as he might one of his lovers.

‘Of course it is. This area is a playground for the rich and famous, and with them come photographers and journalists, all waiting to catch the next big story. I saw them taking photos as we arrived.’

She took a deep breath and forced herself to stop talking. Allowing Santos to see how he unnerved her wasn’t going to do any good at all. If he wanted to parade her around as part of the pretence then so be it.

‘For a woman who dreamt up this whole idea you’re very touchy about it.’

He walked out onto the terrace, where he leant his strong arms on the balustrade. Briefly she remembered how it had felt to be held in their strength, but immediately she dragged her wandering mind back. She had to keep focused. It was almost as if he knew he was distracting her. She was convinced he was using it to his advantage.

‘I didn’t dream this up.’ She flung her hands wide, gesturing around them, and pushed to the back of her mind the terms he’d agreed on, hoping it would never have to go that far. ‘It’s you who took the idea from marriage in name only to this—this pretend love affair.’

He turned back to face her and folded his arms across his chest, the sun behind him making it difficult to read his expression. ‘This is the best way.’

‘Best for who?’

She realised she’d never questioned his motivation for changing things. She’d been so desperate to achieve her aims she hadn’t given it a thought. Yes, she knew he wanted the business—that much Emma had told her—but why would such a wealthy and successful man, who had women falling at his feet, agree so easily to her proposition of marriage?

‘It doesn’t matter who it’s best for. Once we are married your sister can marry Carlo and you will have got what you wanted.’

‘Not forgetting what you want. You will inherit the business, then we can both get on with our lives. As if this had never happened.’ She kept her words firm, as if she believed wholeheartedly in what she was doing. One thing she would never do was let him know her doubts.

The clinking of ice in glasses halted further conversation as drinks were brought out to them. She watched as a petite Spanish girl placed the tray on the table before she slipped away, seeming to melt into the background.

‘Exactamente, querida.’

He turned to face her as he spoke and a shiver of apprehension slipped over her.

‘It all seems too easy, Santos,’ she said, realising she’d used his name without having to force herself. ‘I can’t believe a man like you would agree to my deal so easily. There must be something more in it for you.’

He moved away from the balustrade and came close to her. Too close. Her first reaction was to step back, but she stood her ground and met his gaze head-on, despite the pounding of her heart and the race of her pulse. Something in his expression had changed. He looked more intense, his eyes darker. She couldn’t help but look into them and momentarily floundered.

‘Yes, there is, querida.’

He stepped closer and the air seemed alive with something she’d never experienced before.

‘And that is?’ She feigned bravado, her words short and sharp.

‘I want what we agreed in my office. A wife.’

He was serious, and from the resolute set of his mouth she knew he wasn’t going to change his mind any time soon. ‘We don’t need to make this marriage any more difficult to get out of than need be,’ she said

‘I have no intention of getting out of it, Georgina. I want a real wife—not someone joined to me just because we signed the same bit of paper.’

His gaze dropped from her eyes and lingered on her lips and she realised she was biting her bottom lip. The tension of waiting to hear what he really wanted was too much. As was his proximity. Her stomach fluttered wildly and she had to concentrate hard just to breathe.

‘But why me?’ She moved backwards, but still the sizzle was there. She could feel it with every pore of her skin. He’s just trying to throw you off balance, she assured herself, and asked again. ‘Why me, Santos? Why now?’

‘Because you’re the only woman who’s asked me to marry them at a time when I need to be married.’

When I need to be married.

Those words rang inside her head like a cathedral choir. He didn’t want to be married either, and she clung to the hope that she could persuade him later that separation was the best option.

Images of being with Santos, of spending days and nights with him, filled her mind. She became dizzy at the thought of what the nights would entail. Why did he want her in that way when he could have any one of the glamorous women who always seemed to be in his life?

* * *

Santos watched as an array of emotions flashed across her beautiful face. She might well have asked him to marry her, but he could see the idea of a real marriage unsettled her as much as it did him. Marriage was something he’d never wanted to enter into. He hated that he was being forced to marry by his father’s ridiculous clause in his will. As a child he’d witnessed the destructive side of marriage—a side he knew lurked beneath every claim of love.

Love. He knew it didn’t exist. It was a false and misleading emotion that could destroy any man, woman or child. It was open for exploitation. Never would he allow any woman close enough to manipulate him. Marrying Georgina was a necessity, nothing more.

‘Lucky I asked when I did,’ she said, and flashed a smile at him. But sadness clouded her eyes.

Was she thinking of her first husband? Had she loved him? Had he been manipulated just as easily? Fool, he told himself, fighting back irrational emotions that were completely alien to him. Don’t even go there.

‘Lucky for who, querida?’ He couldn’t resist the urge to provoke her, wanting to see those soft brown eyes spark with passionate fire, as they had done the very first time he’d seen her in his office.

She raised her brows at him. ‘For you. I could have just encouraged Emma and Carlo to slip off and get married without anyone knowing. So I suppose you have the most to lose, Santos, and you have the most at stake.’

His name sounded hard on her lips, fierce. He wanted to go over to her and kiss them until they softened, until every last drop of restraint disappeared. Instead he focused his mind, because if one thing was true it was the fact that he did have the most to lose.

But he’d never admit that.

‘We both have things at stake, Georgina.’ Impatience crept into his voice. ‘So I have had a mutually beneficial agreement drawn up.’

‘Ah, the pre-nup.’ She picked up her drink, ice clinking, and took a sip, all the while maintaining eye contact with him. ‘I’ll sign whatever is needed. I made that clear when I first put the proposition to you.’

‘In that case, now would be a good time to do it.’

He saw the colour drain from her face, watched as she took a deep breath and met his gaze.

‘Okay.’

That one word shook with fierce determination.

‘We can finalise the formalities of our arrangement so that we can enjoy a relaxed evening out.’ His business mind took over, insisting he secure everything before going any further with this deal—because a deal was all it was. One struck for the mutual benefit of both parties.

A flicker of guilt flashed into his mind. A moment ago she’d looked vulnerable, outside her comfort zone, but now she was as dignified and collected as she could be. Was she trying to throw him off balance in a bid to secure more for herself out of the marriage?

‘Let’s just get it done, Santos.’ Her shoulders straightened and the spark of fire flared in her eyes, leaving him in no doubt that she meant every word.

He nodded his approval and admired her undaunted tone. ‘The agreement is on my desk.’

He led the way to his study. For the first time in his life he was anxious about the outcome of a deal. Normally he would be in total control, able to steer deals his way, manoeuvring people like pieces on a chessboard.

But not with Georgina.

It wasn’t her rigid sense of purpose or her defiance that left him second-guessing where their conversations would lead, but the woman herself. The soft curves of her delicious body, the passion in her eyes in those rare unguarded moments, always left him feeling distracted.

He wanted her.

But she was unlike any woman he’d wanted before. He sensed she was different, sensed that he had to play it cool. He knew she was like a proud lioness, knew that she would show her strength, her courage, but if she needed to she’d turn and flee, leaving him in the dust. And if she did that all would be lost. She was, after all, his last hope—his legal team had made that clear—but, like a card player, he’d keep his hand close to his chest and certainly wouldn’t be revealing the full extent of the will just yet...not when he was still trying to get his head around it himself.

He clenched his hands and drew in a deep breath. Damn Carlo. His rush to marry had forced him to contemplate things he never would have entertained before.

He gestured to a chair on one side of his desk, taking in the graceful way she sat and noting the guarded expression on her face. He had to handle this as he would with any deal—ruthlessly. It was the only way. Otherwise he risked being weakened by her smile or, worse, by the undercurrent of something passionate that always seemed to surround them. How much of that was an act on her part he wasn’t sure, but he had to fight hard against the way his body responded to her.

‘My legal team have drawn up an agreement in Spanish and English. I think it will be beneficial to us both.’ He kept his voice controlled as he took his seat opposite her, then he turned the document round and slid it across the desk towards her.

Their eyes met and a simmer of tension passed between them. She lowered her lashes and with slender fingers drew the document closer to her. He watched as she read the conditions, certain she’d be happy with his generous terms.

‘It looks very comprehensive.’

She glanced up, but he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not to see a teasing smile on her lips.

‘You obviously feel the need to protect yourself from my scheming ways.’

‘It protects us both.’

He tried unsuccessfully to keep the irritation from his voice. Did she have to remind him of her past right at this moment? Was she proud of all the men she’d dated within weeks of her husband passing away? He pushed to the back of his mind all he’d learnt about her after that first visit to his office.

She raised her brows at him suggestively. Damn, was the woman deliberately trying to provoke him?

He stood and walked round the desk and leant down, one hand flat on the hard polished surface, bracing his arm. With pen in hand he pointed at the contract. ‘As my wife you will be entitled to a substantial allowance to do with as you please.’ Her perfume invaded his senses and he realised his mistake in coming close. ‘Any children the marriage produces I will stand by and support, regardless of the outcome of our marriage.’

At least he’d touched on the subject of children. It was hard to believe that he, a man who’d never wanted to be married and certainly hadn’t wanted to father a child, now sought both. Or at least was being forced to.

‘Children?’

There was no doubting the shock in her voice. He looked down into her eyes, bright and wide. ‘Yes. Children.’

He watched her slender throat as she swallowed and guilt sliced at him. He should tell her that a child might well become essential to secure the business, but something kept him silent. He wasn’t sure if it was the fear of spooking her or the still raw anger at his father for creating such a clause. He had mentioned he wanted a real wife—surely that left her in no doubt.

He hoped he’d never have to go that far. It went against everything he believed in. As a mistake himself, he did not want to bring a child into the world unless he could give it love and security. The latter wouldn’t be a problem, but love...?

‘Do you want children?’

Her hesitant question made him clench his jaw and he saw her gaze dart to the movement, then quickly back to his eyes.

* * *

Georgina had asked the question lightly, despite the way her stomach had flipped over and was now churning. Did he really anticipate children? From a short-term marriage contract? She hoped not. Having a child was the one thing she’d never wanted to do. It was simply out of the question.

She looked down at the contract, the words blurring on the page as she fought back memories of her childhood. A childhood that had left her scarred and certain she didn’t ever want to be a mother.

‘As I said, I have covered all eventualities—to protect both of us.’

She swallowed hard and looked again up into his eyes. Their dark magnetic depths almost made her lose her nerve. For one tiny second she imagined a child with eyes the same colour, but quashed the image before it could manifest itself into anything bigger.

She had to have breathing space. His closeness, the fresh scent of his aftershave and the heat of his body so close to hers, was undoing her last remnants of self-control. She needed space and she needed it now.

‘You have covered everything concisely, just as I would have expected from you.’ She picked up the pen and with a flowing movement of her wrist signed the contract. The pen dropped to the desk as she pushed back the chair and moved away from him—away from the power he had over her every time he came close. ‘There. All signed.’

‘You don’t have any questions?’ He looked startled by her bravado and stood straight, towering over her, leaving her no option but to stand and face him.

‘Just one.’

‘And that is?’

‘When are we going to finalise this deal and get married?’

That isn’t the question, her mind screamed as she watched a sexy smile spread across his lips. You should have asked when you can call Emma, she scolded herself. She wanted to tell her sister that she could start making plans for her own wedding.

‘Tuesday.’

‘What?’ All the air seemed to have left her lungs, as if she’d run into a brick wall, and her heart was pounding madly. ‘But that is only three days away.’

‘Is there a problem with that?’ His voice resonated with control and his expression hardened in challenge, the smile of moments before gone.

‘No...no,’ she stammered, hating herself for doing so. ‘I just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.’

‘I see no reason to delay.’

His eyes hardened and his voice was firm as he spoke and she knew deep down that he was right. The sooner they were married the better. But Tuesday felt all too soon. She hardly knew him. You don’t need to, a nagging voice inside her chided.

‘I’ll need to get something to wear. I’m sure you don’t want your bride turning up in jeans.’ She tried at humour, but her voice sounded brisk even to her ears.

He looked at his watch. ‘That wouldn’t be the image I was planning—which is why I’ve arranged for outfits to be brought here this afternoon. Select whichever one you want, and also something suitable for this evening.’

The velvet-edged strength of his voice and sexy accent caused her to drag in a ragged breath.

‘What exactly is this evening?’ In a bid to quell the nauseous tremor in her stomach she lifted her chin, dropped her shoulders and met his gaze.

‘Our engagement.’

The words were curt and she watched as he walked back around to his side of the desk. He picked up the pen, pulled the papers towards him and signed next to her signature on the contract before looking back up at her.

‘I fully intend for us to be seen out this evening as if we are a couple madly in love.’

‘It’s only Emma who needs to think we actually want to get married. It doesn’t matter to me what anyone else thinks—not now.’ She couldn’t believe he wanted to put on a public engagement.

‘I don’t want doubt in anyone’s mind,’ he said as he sat back and looked up at her. ‘Least of all people I’ve known for many years. I want them to think that we are in love.’

‘There will be people you know there tonight? Not family, surely?’

It was all getting too much. Everything was happening so fast—much faster than she’d ever planned. She was getting deeper and deeper all the time into something she obviously hadn’t given enough thought to.

‘Sí, my cousin.’

Amusement shone from his eyes. Was he enjoying her discomfort?

‘Other than that, just friends—but they will talk. I want the right things said.’

Further conversation was halted as the maid Georgina had seen earlier knocked on the door. Spanish words flowed melodiously between her and Santos, and Georgina felt strangely excluded. Her grasp of the language was basic to say the least.

‘I shall leave you now to select your wedding gown. Señora Santana is well known in Spain for her gowns.’ He turned his attention back to her, the smile that the maid had been treated to still lingering on his lips.

She felt a nervous panic at the thought of being left alone, hardly able to communicate with his staff, let alone whoever was here with wedding outfits. Santos laughed. A soft throaty chuckle that was maddeningly sexy.

‘Don’t panic. I shall be in here. I have plenty of work to do.’

‘I’m not panicking,’ she flung at him, and smiled at the maid, who was waiting to show her where to go. How did he always manage to know what she was thinking?

‘I’ll wait for you on the balcony at seven,’ he said as she left the room.

She stopped on the threshold and turned to look at him. His tall frame dominated the study so that he seemed almost dangerous. And he was, if the way she reacted to him was anything to go by.

Georgina was taken to yet another bedroom, as big and airy as the one she’d been shown to on arrival. The only difference was the rail of white and cream silk almost mockingly awaiting her approval. One glance at the dresses and Georgina knew that most of them weren’t suitable.

‘Buenas tardes, señora.’ An immaculately dressed woman in her forties all but glided across the marble floor. ‘A little too romantic maybe?’ Her accent was heavy and she stroked the dresses lovingly and smiled at Georgina.

‘I have already been married....’ Georgina began, resenting the need to explain anything, but Señora Santana put up her hand as if to tell her to stop.

‘Not a problem. Señor Ramirez has explained,’ she said, and walked behind the rail of dresses to another which Georgina hadn’t noticed.

Just what had Santos explained? Curiosity piqued, she followed and drew in a breath of awe. These dresses were beautiful. Bold colours of red, green and midnight-blue had been added to frills or even completely forming a bodice.

Georgina couldn’t help but smile. These were more like it. A sweet, innocent bride was not the image she was going for. She trailed her fingers over the silk and chiffon. But one dress in particular caught her attention.

She took the dress from the rail and held it against her. It was perfect. It was everything, and more, that she could want this dress to be.

‘Perfecto.’ Señora Santana smiled and urged Georgina to try it on.

Caught up in the moment, she relished the feel of silk and chiffon against her skin and looked at her image in the mirror. The dress fitted perfectly. As if it had been made for her. She slipped her foot into a dainty strappy sandal, feeling more and more like Cinderella every moment.

‘You will need a veil.’

‘No,’ Georgina replied quickly, and glanced in the mirror at the other lady. ‘No veil,’ she said more gently, and smiled. She hadn’t had a veil for her first wedding—hadn’t even had a dress—so she saw no need to go over the top now. Especially as it was, once more, a marriage of convenience.

Señora Santana shrugged. ‘Ah, I have the perfect alternative. You will see. But now we choose a dress for dinner. No?’

No was just what Georgina wanted to say. She’d gone along with the wedding dress, knowing it was part of the whole plan and necessary. Photos would almost certainly end up in the glossy magazines, whether she wanted them there or not. But a dress for this evening wasn’t necessary. At least not one of this quality.

‘No, the wedding dress is enough.’

The woman’s eyes widened. ‘But Señor Ramirez insisted. You must choose one.’

* * *

Finally Señora Santana’s insistence had worn Georgina down and she’d selected a classic black dress, which now lay on her bed. The hours had just disappeared whilst she was trying dresses on, leaving very little time before she was to meet Santos. Now, after a quick shower, she dried her hair and applied make-up.

Why was she feeling nervous about seeing Santos again? She looked at her watch. Five minutes to seven. He would be waiting on the terrace very soon. She looked again at the dress, feeling almost like a sacrificial lamb.

But wasn’t that exactly what she was?

For her sister’s happiness she’d once again taken on a role she didn’t want. Marrying Richard had been to put Emma through school and a roof over their heads. It had been his suggestion, and even to this day she couldn’t believe a man had done that for her. She’d been on tenterhooks during all the three years they were married, just waiting for him to leave her. But she’d never expected him to leave her the way he had. As a widow. She’d known he was ill—but not that ill.

With a heavy heart she picked up the dress, stepped into it. For a moment the zip eluded her and it took several minutes of contortions to pull it up. Flustered by her efforts, she slipped on the new pair of shoes insisted upon by Señora Santana and left the bedroom, her heels sounding loud on the marble.

CHAPTER FIVE

SANTOS WAS LOOKING out at the sea, dressed in a dark suit, as she approached the balcony. When he turned and his gaze met hers her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t right that a man could be so sexy. The cloth of his suit had been cut with precision, emphasising his broad shoulders and strong thighs to perfection.

She swallowed hard, desperate to calm her racing heartbeat. If she carried on like this there wouldn’t be any need for pretence. Her attraction to him was becoming stronger, and if he turned on the charm as he had at the party she’d be lost. Worse still, if he kissed her again she didn’t think she’d be able to resist him.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said, his voice deep, with a husky edge to it. ‘Exactly what I had in mind.’

Well, if that didn’t serve as a reminder that it was all an act, then nothing would.

‘I’m glad it meets with your approval,’ she said tartly and, desperate to hide her confusion, walked past him to the table, selecting a drink from those prepared. Anger fizzed in her veins at the thought of the way he made her feel: light-headed and soft one minute, then short and sharp the next. In a bid to rein in her rising and very mixed emotions she all but downed her drink in one go.

‘Steady, querida.’ He smiled. A mocking smile. As if he knew her turmoil. ‘That drink is pretty potent.’

She looked at the almost empty glass. The remains of the liquid looked more like a soft drink, but its effect on her head was already clear. Whatever was she trying to do to herself? She put the glass down and turned to look at him, holding her hair back as the sea breeze toyed with it just as he was toying with her.

‘If you are ready shall we go?’

He didn’t wait for her to answer, but placed his hand in the small of her back, its heat scorching through the silk of her dress, and all but propelled her towards the door. Outside, a sleek, gleaming sports car waited, fiery red. Exactly what she’d imagined him driving.

‘Suits you,’ she said in a cavalier tone, and dropped down into the low seat as he stood by the open door.

He raised his brows and smiled at her. ‘Gracias.’

When Santos climbed in beside her she became all too aware of just how close she was to him. His tanned fingers pulled the gearstick backwards as the car growled into life. She couldn’t help but notice that the space beneath the steering wheel seemed almost too compact for his powerful thighs.

A small but insistent fire sparked to life deep inside her as she watched him drive. Each move he made sent a shiver of awareness over her and she bit down hard on her lip against the new wave of emotions that assailed her. She couldn’t be falling for him—she couldn’t.

‘Is it far?’ Nerves made her voice quiver as she finally acknowledged the attraction she felt for him, and he glanced across at her before returning his attention to the road ahead.

‘No, but arriving in style will attract the attention we need.’

‘Attention?’ Her mind was scrambled as she looked at his profile. The shadow of stubble only added to the sexy appeal he emanated.

‘How else is the world going to know we are engaged?’ He glanced across at her again, his gaze meeting hers briefly before returning to the task of driving. ‘This is what you wanted. Puerto Banus is a renowned favourite of the rich and famous, and with them come the press photographers, hungry for gossip.’

Now she understood his insistence on dressing for dinner. This was Act Two. The next part of their public courtship, played out to perfection. It was time to retreat behind her public persona.

‘And tonight, querida, we shall give them something to gossip about.’

His voice was laden with promise and as the fire rose higher inside her she looked away.

The car growled into the small harbour town and Georgina couldn’t help but take it all in. Cars as sleek and powerful as Santos’s lined the narrow streets, parked outside global designer shops. Yachts that looked more like floating palaces were moored all around the harbour, many with lights glinting and parties in full swing on board.

This was most definitely a playground for the wealthy.

Santos parked the car, expertly manoeuvring it into a space in front of one of the bigger yachts. He switched off the engine and silence seemed to cloak them. The leather seat crunched as he turned to face her.

‘You look absolutely stunning tonight.’ He reached up and pushed her hair back from her face and she trembled.

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. All she could do was look into the mesmerising depths of his eyes.

‘You are playing your part well—so well even I’m convinced.’

His voice was a husky whisper and she wished he wouldn’t slide his fingers through her hair like that.

‘Convinced of what?’ She forced the words out, alarmed at the throaty sound of her voice.

‘The attraction between us...’

He moved a little closer and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to, but knew it would be her undoing. Then, before she even had a chance to think, his lips claimed hers. Try as she might she couldn’t stop her eyes from closing, couldn’t help reaching up to touch his cheek, feeling the slight stubble against her fingertips. She was attracted to him, despite all she’d promised herself, and he must never know. That would be to show her weakness. Give him all the power. She’d seen it before.

She pulled back a little from him, her lips still very close to his, and opened her eyes. ‘I’m a brilliant actress,’ she whispered as her fingers smoothed once more across his face.

The sound that came from him resembled a growl as his hand caught and held hers. ‘Don’t take your role too far, querida. I might just go past the need to act.’

For a moment she sat transfixed by the tension that hung between them. The promised threat of his words was not lost on her. Did her really want her? Did he find himself struggling against the same raw need she was fighting right now?

‘It’s showtime, Georgina.’ His words were firm and sharp as he pulled away from her and got out of the car.

She watched him walk around the front of it, relaxed but masterful. Obviously she didn’t have the same effect on him—didn’t scramble his emotions until he couldn’t think straight.

Okay, showtime it is, she thought as she got out of the car and walked with him towards the busy street lined with restaurants. She could do this—even if it meant putting on the biggest show of her life.

Suddenly a man’s shouts caught her attention and a waiter from one restaurant came out to greet him, hugging Santos and then stepping back to cast an enquiring look her way.

‘Georgina, this is my cousin Raul—owner of this restaurant and at our bidding for this evening.’

She felt suddenly shy beneath the man’s gaze. He took her hand and with the same charm Santos possessed kissed it. ‘I can see why my cousin is so entranced.’

To her horror she blushed, but managed to smile back at him. ‘What more could a girl ask for?’ She raised her brows, made her voice light and melodious, even a little flirty.

Raul laughed and after a brief look of shock Santos did too. Then he smiled at Georgina, a dangerous light in his eyes.

‘Raul, do you have the table I requested?’

‘Sí,’ Raul replied, and continued in Spanish.

Santos put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as he followed his cousin to their table. It was private, and candles fluttered in the evening breeze. The sea could be heard lapping gently onto the shore close by.

It was perfectly romantic.

The whole meal was. Each course was divine and all the while Santos exuded what she was fast becoming aware was his lethal charm. She smiled, played her part all through dinner, but reality was beginning to blur. She sipped her wine and looked out at the sea, where the setting sun cast an orange glow across the rippling surface.

‘Georgie?’

Her attention swung back to Santos when she heard her name on his lips. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he was choked with emotion. Oh, he was good at this, she thought, and smiled at him. He’d never used her pet name before.

‘Will you marry me?’

‘What?’ she gasped as he slid a small velvet box across the table. Calm down. It’s probably for his cousin’s benefit.

‘Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?’

His dark eyes were watching her intently. When she looked into them she thought she saw the same desire she’d seen at the party, the same simmering passion. Just as she’d thought she’d seen it earlier, when they were in the car. But that couldn’t be, could it?

She reached for the box, aware of the role she had to play, but he caught her hand in his. The heat of his touch was almost too much.

‘Marry me?’

‘Yes.’ Her whole body quivered, but she couldn’t lower her gaze, couldn’t break that tenuous connection. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’

Slowly he let her hand go, opened the box and pulled out a glittering diamond ring. As he slid it onto her finger the candlelight made it sparkle, bringing it to life. He lifted her hand to his lips, his gaze holding hers captive, and kissed her fingers.

This was what it would really feel like, she thought as she looked into his dark eyes. This was be the closest she’d ever come to having a real proposal.

Applause erupted around them, making her jump. She hadn’t realised they were being watched, and neither had Santos. Even he looked taken aback. She laughed, unable to help herself, and the tension of the moment slipped away as the other diners returned their attention to their meals.

‘Let’s go,’ he said in a throaty growl, sounding as if he really couldn’t wait to get her home. Something indefinable skittered over her, making her tummy somersault and her breath tighten in her chest.

Don’t do this to yourself. You are just a means to an end. He doesn’t really want you.

It was dark as they walked back along the street. Yachts were lit up, giving everything a magical appeal. The warm breeze on her skin felt wonderful, but not as wonderful as Santos’s arm about her waist, pulling her against his magnificent body. She savoured the moment, stored it for later. The champagne she’d drunk was making it easier to enjoy being with him like this and easier to let go of her usual anxiety. This wonderful feeling was going to have to last her a lifetime.

By the car Santos stopped. Instinctively she looked up at him, then couldn’t help herself as she reached up and kissed his lips. His response was gentle at first, setting her body alight. The fire was fuelled further by his hands sliding down her back, pulling her so very close to him. Whatever it was that had simmered between them at the party was now well and truly alight. As her hips pressed against his aroused body she knew he wanted her. Was it so wrong to give in to it? To enjoy it for what it was? A passing attraction.

‘Santos,’ she murmured against his lips.

It was all the encouragement he needed and he deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth as she sighed in pleasure.

Need rocketed through her body and she almost became incapable of thought as he stepped closer, forcing her back against the side of his car, pressing hard against her and stoking the fire deep within her body. Unleashing an insatiable need for him.

His hand slid down her side, over her hip and down to her bottom. He pulled her hard against him and raw desire tore through her, leaving her gasping against his lips as her arms clung around his neck. It was mind-blowing. She’d never known anything like it.

A flash lit up the world for a second—or so it seemed to Georgina. But in that second she regained her breath, and the control she’d so very nearly lost. She turned her face to the opportunist photographer, knowing he was just what she needed to bring her feet firmly back to the ground.

Beside her Santos spoke in Spanish, his voice thick and hoarse as the photographer snapped another photo. Quickly Santos put some distance between them and opened the car door for her, but she didn’t miss the raw desire in his eyes.

Once they were inside she asked, ‘What did you tell him?’

‘That we’d just got engaged and needed private time.’ His voice was husky and heavily accented.

Of course he’d say that. But she couldn’t help feeling humiliated. His kiss—which had been part of the act, the charade—had nearly been her undoing. She’d wanted more...wanted him to take her home. More than anything she’d wanted him to take her to his bed. But that could never happen.

Never.

To allow him to know how much her feelings towards him had changed would be the worst possible scenario. With that in mind she retreated to her room as soon as they arrived back at his villa.

* * *

The next morning Georgina used the excuse of it being Sunday and stayed in her room. Eventually she ventured out, hoping the quietness of the villa meant Santos was ensconced in his study.

As she strolled through the living area movement in the pool caught her eye. Santos was powering through the water, his strokes effortless. She shouldn’t be watching but couldn’t help herself, almost unaware of each step towards the pool she took. The afternoon sun shone brightly and she put on her sunglasses, watching as his muscles flexed.

Abruptly he stopped and looked at her, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘Are you coming in?’

The husky depths of his voice made her stomach flutter and she was glad of the sunglasses she could hide behind. ‘I’ll give it a miss,’ she said as she sat down on the edge of a sun lounger, even more drawn to him.

‘Pity,’ he replied, and swam over to her. His hair was flat against his head and rivulets of water ran down his face. ‘It’s very relaxing.’

Hardly. The thought of being in the water with him made her pulse race, and inwardly she cursed the attraction she felt for him. It was making things complicated.

‘Maybe a walk along the beach?’

‘That would be nice,’ she said, and stood up, aware that at any moment he would haul his bronzed body from the water. And she wasn’t ready for that. ‘I’ll go and change.’

Not trusting herself to look back at him, she hurried to her room and changed into a cool dress and flat sandals. Regaining her composure, she returned to the terrace and waited.

She knew when he was there as if her body was completely tuned in to his. She turned to face him and that spark of attraction zipped instantly between them.

‘Shall we?’

He took her hand and for a moment their eyes met, his darkening instantly. She remembered his touch last night, his kiss, and could hardly draw breath.

Right now, with his hand holding hers she felt safe. Cherished.

As if he could read her thoughts he held her hand just a little tighter. She smiled a genuine smile, one she couldn’t hold back, as he stepped closer and brushed his lips over hers.

Everything around her ceased to exist. It was just the two of them. No deal—nothing. When he pulled back she looked up into his eyes. Was this what she’d been searching for? This strange warm feeling of contentment?

‘We won’t get very far like this,’ she teased lightly, her heart almost melting as he laughed softly.

‘Sí, you are right. We will walk.’

Sand, warm from the afternoon sun, poured into her sandals, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to savour this moment. Because this was what it must be like, that glowing feeling of a new relationship. The first tender stirrings of love. Was it even possible?

‘You’re smiling,’ he said as he pulled her to a stop, his hand not relinquishing its hold on hers. ‘For the first time since we met you look happy.’

‘I am.’ And she meant it. Right now all she wanted was to be herself, to bask in the warmth of this new sensation. Santos made her feel things she’d never thought possible, and knowing those feelings wouldn’t last for ever she wanted to relax and enjoy them. ‘What about you?’

‘In the company of a woman as beautiful as you, how could I not be happy?’

She searched his eyes, looking for a hint of mockery, but found only a heart-rending tenderness. He stroked his fingers down her cheek, lifting her chin as he bent and lightly kissed her lips.

Her heart pounded erratically and a tingle of excitement raced around her. Light-headed and almost giddy, she kissed him back, tentatively at first. This wasn’t the needy kiss of last night—this was giving and caressing. It was loving.

She pulled back from him a little, shyness making her look up from under her lashes as heat infused her cheeks. ‘You don’t have to say and do these things—not now, anyway.’

‘What I say is true.’

His voice was husky and raw as he brushed her hair back from her face, sending waves of delicious sensation all over her.

‘And I only do what I want.’

It was as if a bond was forming with each gentle caress of his hands and each soft word. He was pulling her towards him. This man was so far removed from the compelling man she’d first felt a spark of attraction for she was lost for words.

Without another word he pulled her against him, holding her so close she could hear his heart thumping as wildly as hers. Was he aware of what was happening? Did he also feel as if he was wading out to sea, getting deeper and deeper, unable to turn back to the safety of shore?

* * *

The next morning Santos planned to work, but all he wanted was to be with Georgina. It was as if magic had been in the air last night on the beach and had weaved around them, bringing them closer in a way he’d never been with a woman before.

Was it because she still hadn’t shared his bed? Was that one fact making him delusional? Like a man lost in the desert?

A bit of distance, that was what they needed, he decided, and for the best part of the day he shut himself in his study. He tortured himself when he heard her in the pool, but it was more than desire that raced around his blood. Something new, something undefinable, now simmered there too.

Finally, as the sun was setting, he could stand it no longer and went in search of the woman who would tomorrow be his wife. She was curled on the sofa, her phone in her hand. She looked up at him as he stood in front of her.

‘I can’t get Emma on the phone.’ Her words were rushed.

Guilt shot through him, he’d completely forgotten her need to phone her sister.

‘I sent a text instead.’

He didn’t know how to respond to the obvious anxiety in her voice. Worrying about siblings was not something he’d ever done. Distraction was what she needed, he decided. ‘Would you care to join me for a walk?’

‘Another walk? Tonight?’ She put her phone on a nearby table and smiled at him, the same warm smile she’d given him the night before. ‘It’s supposed to be bad luck for the bride to see the groom on the eve of her wedding.’

‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ he teased, and held out his hand to her. She hesitated, then laughed softly. It was such a sexy sound he had to brace himself against the onslaught of thudding desire which rushed over him.

‘In that case, how can I refuse?’ She seemed different, as if all pretence had been abandoned, and he knew this was the real Georgina. The fiery, demanding woman who had burst into his office last week no longer existed.

The sea was calmer than he’d ever known it, with the waves hardly making any sound. They walked along the sand hand in hand, as they had done the previous afternoon. The sky was dark and the stars were shining brightly as he stopped and turned to her.

‘I’ve enjoyed your company,’ he said awkwardly. ‘It’s hard to believe it’s only been a few days since we arrived.’

Georgina looked up at him. Was it possible he felt it too? He was so different now, so relaxed, and she knew she was in danger of falling in love with him.

‘Don’t say any more,’ she whispered, putting her finger on his lips. She didn’t want him to give her hope if he didn’t mean it.

He kissed her fingers and before she knew how she was in his arms, her body pressed close to his. Fire tore through her as she kissed him, giving way to all the new emotions she was battling with. She wanted him with a fierceness that shocked her.

He deepened the kiss, his arms pressing her close against him, leaving her in no doubt that she needed to stop things now. She pulled back from him, her heart racing, and her breathing fast.

‘I can’t, Santos.’

‘Can’t what?’ His voice was hoarse and he tried to kiss her again.

‘This,’ she said, moving back from him. ‘We shouldn’t even be seeing one another tonight. It’s bad luck.’

CHAPTER SIX

SANTOS’S PULSE POUNDED in his head and a fire coursed through his veins which had little to do with the punishing early-morning run he’d just completed. After yet another night of trying to douse his need for Georgina he’d given up and, despite it being the morning of his wedding, had gone out to find some kind of release. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

How could one woman drive him to such distraction?

Refusing to explore the answer to that question, he returned to his villa. As he did so he heard female voices and knew that Señora Santana had arrived, along with the others, to do the bridal hair and make-up. He clenched his hands into fists, fighting hard against the urge to go to Georgina’s room, send everyone out and continue what she’d started last night—because start it she most definitely had.

Patience, he reminded himself, and headed for a cold shower instead. His run had not had the desired effect. Heady lust still throbbed through his veins and he knew of only one antidote for that—other than taking Georgina to his bed right now. Work. Once he’d showered he would shut himself in his office and work until lunchtime, when he would escort Georgina to the beach to become his wife.

An hour later he admitted it was impossible. The figures blurred before him and all he could think about was that kiss last night. At first so innocent and tender, then passion had taken over. Santos realised he’d been so consumed by need he’d behaved like a teenager, raging hormones taking control of his senses, rendering him completely under her spell.

Just as his father had been with Carlo’s mother.

That thought alone had the sobering effect he needed on his body. He could never allow himself to be at the mercy of a woman—wanting her so much that nothing else mattered. Not even his inheritance. He’d never wanted a serious relationship, and certainly didn’t want to get married, but his father’s interfering had changed that.

In a bid to divert his mind he turned to his laptop, scanning the business pages and the headlines from Spain and England before looking at the celebrity gossip columns. Sure enough, just as he’d expected, he and Georgina were featured leaving the party together. Speculation as to what would happen next had filled the columns for the last two days.

At least now nobody would think him grasping enough to marry purely for financial gain. That sort of reputation wouldn’t go down well when making business deals in the future. But if his business rivals thought he had a human side, one touched by love—whatever that was—they would be less guarded with him, giving him the edge he always sought.

He looked up at the clock on the wall. Eleven-thirty. Almost time to seal the hardest deal of his life. He turned off the laptop, put away his papers and headed back to his room to put on his suit.

As he fixed his cufflinks he looked in the mirror. Was he doing the right thing? He thought of the clause in the will, the need for an heir, and knew in that moment he should have told Georgina exactly what might be expected of her unless his legal team could find another way out. So why hadn’t he? Because he didn’t seriously think it would come to that when he was paying to find a solution. But then he hadn’t thought he’d ever have to marry either.

A knock at the door drew his attention and he strode over to open it, knowing he was to be given the message that she was ready. It was time to make Georgina his wife. Guilt shot through him. She didn’t know exactly what she’d signed up for. He had to tell her as soon as they were alone. Tell her that his mention of children in the prenuptial agreement might prove vital in the deal she’d come up with. Even he wasn’t that harsh. Despite everything, he still clung to the hope that it wouldn’t be necessary.

She was waiting for him on the terrace, but nothing could have prepared him for that moment if he’d spent several years organising it, instead of several days.

Georgina looked amazing.

Cream chiffon and silk encased her slender figure, but the slit in the floor-length dress drew his eye to her leg as she moved towards him. Her dark hair had been pulled back into a chignon and lace was attached to it, giving her a very Spanish air. The bodice of her dress clung to her breasts lovingly and on the single strap diamonds sparkled.

‘I trust this meets your requirements?’

Her chin lifted defiantly, and her voice was as sharp as a razor, but her eyes still blazed with the same desire he’d seen in them last night. Gone was the woman he’d held in his arms as the stars sparkled above them.

‘Every bride should look stunning on her wedding day,’ he said firmly, admiring the confidence that radiated from her. ‘And you do.’

He fought to stop his mind envisaging removing the gown later as he truly made her his. Because if the attraction that existed between them—the one they had both been trying to deny—finally got the better of them when they were alone, there would be no doubt about consummating their marriage.

‘You look very handsome too,’ she said, a small blush creeping across her cheeks, her words softer.

‘I’m pleased you didn’t choose one of those fussy, frilly gowns I saw being brought in.’ He tried to lighten the mood with small talk, but each step she took towards him showcased her slender legs and it was having a powerful effect on him. ‘Such a daring dress was made for you.’

‘Having been married before, I didn’t think the usual fairytale image was appropriate.’ She followed his lead and kept her voice light.

‘It is far better than what you wore the first time,’ he said slowly, his gaze holding hers. ‘A business suit at a registry office? Hardly the stuff of fairytales.’

‘You know that?’ Her beautiful dark eyes widened slightly and she drew in a sharp breath.

‘I always research my business deals, Georgina, and this one is no exception.’ His words sounded firmer than he’d intended as he remembered exactly why they were doing this. The effort of not reaching for her, taking her in his arms and kissing her as he had last night, was almost too much. ‘Ready?’

She looked at him for a moment, her brown eyes cool and emotionless, then she swallowed hard, giving away the fact that she wasn’t as composed as she wanted him to think.

‘I’m ready.’ Still her voice was hard, full of determination.

He took her hand and led her from the terrace, down the steps towards the beach, where his cousin and a friend waited to witness their marriage. He glanced at her, smiling at her continued air of defiance.

Pride unexpectedly swelled in his chest as he realised just what was about to happen. He was about to take this gorgeous woman as his wife—a woman any man would be proud to be seen with. She was clever, witty, and incredibly sexy. Her hand in his was small and he clutched it tighter, enjoying the warmth of her.

* * *

Georgina’s step almost faltered, and it was nothing to do with the grains of sand sliding through her sandals as she made her way across the beach. It was everything to do with the proud and arrogant man at her side.

His hand was warm as it held hers and she risked a quick look at him. He looked as if he’d stepped from her long-ago abandoned dream of a happy-ever-after. He was exactly the image of the man she’d used to dream of marrying: tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome. But this man was also dangerous. The way he could send her senses into overdrive meant she had to guard herself well or risk being hurt.

The waves rolled onto the sand before rushing back to sea and Georgina wished she could slip away with them. Doubts... Surely they were natural for a bride, but they clouded her mind, making her homesick. She wanted to see Emma, to tell her what was happening. This morning she’d nearly called her, but as she’d looked at her sister’s number she’d known she didn’t have enough strength to conceal the truth.

She wished she had someone here she knew. Someone for her. Someone who could reassure her she was doing the right thing.

When Santos stopped, not far from Raul and two others, she knew it was too late.

‘I’m sorry there wasn’t time to find one of your friends to witness this.’

Santos spoke softly next to her ear, almost making her jump and dragging her from her melancholy. It was as if he knew her thoughts.

She smiled brightly at him—maybe a little too brightly. ‘It might have given the game away if you’d started flying my friends out here.’

‘If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ she replied quickly, injecting as much bravado into her voice as possible. ‘Let’s just get this over and done with.’

He looked shocked, but time for any further discussion was lost as the minister greeted them.

Everything seemed to spin. The minister’s words, first in English, then Spanish, blended with the rush of the waves. Santos continued to hold her hand tightly and the heat of his body beside her was matched only by the sun.

She couldn’t think—couldn’t even grasp the concept of the words that were being said. When she’d walked into Santos’s office last week she hadn’t envisaged this—a beach ceremony with a man she was finding ever harder to resist. A man who wanted to be married to her about as much as she wanted to be to him.

‘Georgie?’

She looked slowly up at him, remembering the need to act like a real bride, and smiled. He smiled back. A smile that reached into the dark depths of his eyes, melting her from the inside out.

He took her hands in his and spoke in Spanish to her. She had no idea what he was saying, what he was doing. Everything seemed unreal. Then he slid a gold ring on her finger, repeating the words in English, and she realised he was doing exactly what she should be. Acting.

Panic raced through her. She didn’t have a ring for him. Should she have got one? A polite cough at her side caught her attention and Raul handed her a ring, his smile full of charm. She smiled and turned back to Santos, slid the ring onto his finger and repeated the words that bound them legally in a marriage neither wanted.

Moments later Santos covered her lips with his, almost knocking the air from her as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. She should resist, but sparks took off inside her like New Year’s Eve fireworks and she wound her arms about his neck. It was as if the desire of last night still simmered.

Just as suddenly as the kiss had begun it ended, and Santos pulled away from her, but he kept her hand in his as he thanked Raul, his friend and the minster. Spanish flowed around her and all she could do was stand and wait, trying to come to terms with what she’d done.

It’s for Emma. Just as it was last time.

‘Now it is time for us.’ Santos returned his attention back to her, his dark eyes sparking with fire.

‘Us?’ she asked as she watched the three people who’d witnessed her marriage walk back across the beach.

‘Sí.’ He dropped a kiss lightly on her nose and she blinked in shock at the affectionate gesture. ‘We have to have at least a few days for our honeymoon before we return to London.’

Honeymoon.

Had he gone mad?

‘Is that really necessary?’ She couldn’t believe he was serious. ‘We’re married now. You’ve got your business. Can’t we just go back and tell Emma and Carlo they can get married?’

‘This was your idea, Georgina. You wanted to make it look as real as possible.’ He frowned and looked down at her, his hand still clasping hers.

‘I only wanted our names on a marriage certificate. I didn’t want all this acting.’ She should never have hoped to change things so late in the day. Not when she was dealing with a man like Santos.

His dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘You wanted authenticity and you’ve damn well got it.’

He let go of her hand and stepped back from her, then turned and walked back to the villa. She watched him go, just as she’d watched her father go all those years ago.

What was she doing? She couldn’t stay on the beach—an abandoned bride for all to see. Propelled into action, she kicked off her sandals, picked them up and marched after him. They’d been married for only a matter of minutes and were already arguing. Surely that would make him see they needed to go their separate ways?

‘Okay,’ she said as she caught up with him, injecting as much ferocity as she could into her voice. ‘We’ll have the honeymoon. But once Emma and Carlo get married this farce ends.’

‘Farce?’

He stopped and turned to face her. The fury in his face served only to increase her need to keep what she really felt for him concealed.

Without warning he pulled her into his arms, his lips claiming hers in a demanding and hungry kiss, weakening her body so that she could barely stand. She wanted to respond, wanted to take the pleasure his lips promised, but instead she reminded herself it wasn’t real. None of it was. At least not for him.

His hands pressed her ever closer to him, until she had no doubt that although the marriage wasn’t real his desire for her was. Her lips parted and his tongue plundered her mouth, entwining with hers in an erotic dance, making her sigh with pleasure.

Heaven help her, she wanted more. She wanted this man in a way she’d never wanted a man before.

He pulled back from her, his breathing deep and ragged. ‘Now, deny that, Mrs Ramirez. Deny that you want me. Deny what your body tells me.’

‘This wasn’t supposed to happen.’ Her lips were bruised and her body trembled with unquenched desire as she looked into his eyes, seeing sparks of passion within their depths.

‘Come,’ he demanded as he took her hand, and the gentleness of yesterday was gone.

Was he about to drag her to his room, take her to his bed? Excitement fizzed in her veins, only to be replaced by disappointment as he walked straight through the villa and out to his car.

‘Where are we going?’

He opened the door of the car for her and she got in, hampered by the silk and chiffon of her dress. Mesmerised, she watched his hands expertly gather the silk skirt and bundle it into the car, his fingers brushing against her bare leg where the gown so daringly parted. She shivered as their eyes met. Their gazes remained locked; his hand rested on her leg.

‘To my yacht.’

His voice was deep and incredibly seductive. Her heart jolted and her pulse raced as his fingers trailed over her thigh, moving teasingly higher.

‘For our honeymoon.’

The smouldering flames she saw in his eyes should have been warning enough, but she didn’t want to listen to sense any more. This man wanted her, desired her, and she wanted him too. All sensible reasoning slipped away as he bent and kissed her thigh, where his fingers had made a blazing trail.

‘Santos.’ She placed her hands either side of his face, forcing him to look up at her. ‘Please don’t. At least not here.’

He smiled and stretched up to press his lips to hers, breathing Spanish words against them. She had no idea what he said and neither did she care. She watched, anticipation throbbing in her blood, as he shut the car door and strode around the front to the driver’s side. He looked at her as the engine growled to life, his gaze so hot it seemed to melt the chiffon from her body and dissolve the silk of her skirt. And when those dark and dangerous eyes met hers she knew it was already too late. She’d lost. His expert charm and arrogant confidence had won.

She was as good as his.

She sat silently contemplating what had just happened between them as Santos drove. The car sped along the coast road, but she didn’t doubt his ability to handle it. The sea glistened in the afternoon sun and she realised that very soon they’d be alone out there.

Tyres screeched as he came to an abrupt halt next to what was probably the biggest yacht in the harbour. She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or disappointed that they weren’t going to be alone after all. A yacht this size must have at least a dozen crew members.

As they boarded he fired off rapid instructions in Spanish and everything seemed to come to life around them. A maid stepped forward, offering a glass of champagne, and Georgina took it, grateful to have something to hold other than Santos’s hand.

She looked at him and he raised his glass to her. ‘To my beautiful wife.’

His gaze openly devoured her and her body tingled.

‘To my handsome husband,’ she flirted.

Just one sip of champagne was making her braver than she really was. She had to play the game well, so she smiled as he smiled. But her words weren’t lies. He was more handsome than she could ever have dreamed of, standing on deck in his designer suit, glass of champagne in hand, passion for her sparking in his eyes. He was everything and more from her abandoned dream of the perfect man.

‘As we sail we shall have our wedding breakfast.’

He sipped his champagne and she watched him swallow, mesmerised by the movement of his throat. Food was the last thing she wanted right now, but maybe it would bring her back to her senses, dull the thud of desire in her veins and enable her to think rationally.

Whilst they’d been talking the yacht had slipped away from the harbour and was now sailing past the long stone wall and out into the sea. The small but affluent town of Puerto Banus looked picturesque, nestled below the looming mountains, and Georgina was transfixed by the view.

‘So beautiful,’ she whispered, unable to drag her eyes from it.

‘Beautiful indeed.’ Santos’s voice was firm and strong as he stood next to her. ‘But it is outshone by the beauty of my bride.’

Georgina took another sip of champagne—anything to calm her nerves—and then turned to face him. ‘Surely we don’t need to keep up the pretence here?’

His hand reached out, his fingers lifting her chin so that she had no option but to look at him. Her legs became unsteady and she wondered if it wasn’t more to do with the man next to her than the motion of the yacht.

‘Tonight I ask only one thing of you, Georgina.’

Her heart accelerated and pounded in her chest like a drum. Her gaze locked with his, held there by only the smallest touch of his fingers to her chin. Her breathing deepened and she wondered if she’d be able to stand for much longer so close to him.

‘And that is...?’ She maintained control of her voice, but control of her body was much harder. Heat was building low down in her stomach, spreading slowly and relighting the fire that had so nearly consumed her last night.

‘No pretence. Not tonight, at least.’

* * *

Santos saw her eyes widen, watched as the soft brown of her irises turned darker until they were as black as the night sky. Her full lips, the ones that had kissed him almost into oblivion last night, parted and he fought hard against the urge to crush them beneath his.

‘Not even a little bit?’ She smiled up at him, and a hint of mischief danced in her eyes.

She was still hiding herself from him.

‘No.’ He lifted her chin a little higher and brushed his lips against hers, feeling her body tremble as it so nearly touched his. She smelt good, her perfume sweet and light. ‘No pretence at all, Georgie.’

He liked calling her that. It made her seem more real—warmer, somehow. Like the woman he’d glimpsed last night. And tonight he was determined to find her again. It was that woman he wanted—the woman who’d filled his dreams and every waking moment since.

He took the glass from her hand and without taking his eyes from hers dropped it onto a nearby seat. The yacht lurched as they headed out to sea, pitching her against him, and instinctively he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close.

‘You can let me go now,’ she said firmly, her breath feathering against his chin as she looked up at him. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think I’m throwing myself at you.’

He laughed and let her go. ‘I wouldn’t ever think that of you.’

She was so vibrant, so beautiful, and she was his wife.

As he faced her he saw shyness spread over her face—an emotion he would never have associated with the demanding woman who’d all but barged into his office last week.

Her fingers brushed his and his pulse raced in anticipation, just as it had been doing every time she came near him. It was almost torture, wanting a woman and not being able to have her. But tonight would be different. Tonight she would be his.

He watched as she walked away from him, the sandals she’d struggled with on the beach long since abandoned. The wind whipped at her dress, lifting the silk around her, allowing him more than a glimpse of long slender legs as she moved inside the yacht.

Pushing back the carnal thoughts that filled his mind, he followed her—and almost stopped in his stride when he saw the sadness on her face as she stood and looked out of the window. Was she thinking of her sister? Missing her?

‘I’m sorry there wasn’t anyone at the wedding for you.’ Uneasy guilt compelled him to say it again, despite her earlier assurances.

She turned and looked at him, blinking her lashes rapidly over her eyes. ‘It’s not as if it was a real wedding—if it was I’d have insisted on Emma being there.’ She shrugged and looked back out at the retreating coastline. ‘Besides, you only had your cousin.’

‘Raul is my family.’

‘I’ve never heard Emma or Carlo mention him before.’ She rubbed her hands on her arms as if cold.

‘He’s my mother’s brother’s son, so not a blood relation to Carlo.’ His clipped words caught her attention.

‘You make it sound as if having a stepmother and half-brother is a bad thing.’

This was the first window into his life he’d allowed her to see through, and it made him feel vulnerable, but he was strangely compelled to talk and continued.

‘My father and I were happy enough after my mother left, but when she died in an accident a few years later my father went to pieces. It was as if he’d been waiting for her to come back to him.’

He’d never told anyone that before. Talking of his childhood was something he just didn’t do. But memories rushed back at him now like a sea wind, keen and sharp.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, touching his arm. ‘It hurts when a parent leaves. As a child you feel...’ She paused and his heart constricted. ‘Responsible, somehow.’

He looked down at her upturned face, at her soft skin glowing in the late afternoon sun, her eyes full of genuine concern. When was the last time anyone had been concerned about him? He wanted to talk to her, share his memories with her. After all she knew something of his pain—his research on her had proved that.

‘My father had a second youth—dating women as if they were going out of fashion. So when he met the woman who would later be my stepmother it was a relief. He settled down again. I just hadn’t expected to be excluded from the family when Carlo was born.’

She frowned slightly but said nothing, her steady gaze encouraging him to talk.

‘As time went by Carlo became the centre of everything and I stood on the outside, looking in. I refused to compete for my father’s attention. When I left university I began to take over the running of the investment business and my father spent more and more time with his new family.’

‘But surely they loved you?’

He could see pity in her eyes, the image he’d painted for her, and anger surfaced. He did not need her pity. Just as he hadn’t needed his father’s love as a boy.

‘Love, Georgina? What is that?’

His words were sharper than he’d wanted. He sensed her draw back from him, both physically and emotionally, and was thankful when she didn’t say anything else.

‘You’re cold,’ he said when she shivered. ‘We will go inside and eat.’

As far as he was concerned the discussion was now closed.

He led her inside and even he was stunned at the intimacy of the small feast that had been prepared for them. The large table was set at one end, just for two, candles glowed and rose petals were scattered across the cream tablecloth. He heard her stifled gasp of shock and smiled.

‘Your staff have excelled themselves,’ she said softly as she came to stand beside him. ‘It looks divine.’

The intimacy only increased once he was seated at the table with her, the soft glow of candlelight casting her face into partial shadow. Her shoulders were bare apart from the one strap of the dress. They looked creamy, soft, and he wanted to touch her skin, to kiss it, taste it.

Food was the last thing he wanted.

* * *

Determined not to be put off by Santos’s sudden change of subject, and desperate to keep her traitorous body under control, Georgina spoke. ‘I can remember my father walking away late one summer’s evening. It was dark and hot, and later there was such a storm I worried all night about him. It sounds like it was tough for you too after your mother died.’

He’d almost opened up to her—almost let her in.

His face hardened and she knew she’d touched on a nerve.

‘It was. But I’m not going to talk about such things now.’

He offered her some of the delicacies on the table, his fingers brushing hers, causing her to look up into his eyes.

‘There are far better things to talk of on our wedding day.’

Our wedding day.

The words hung in the air between them as his dark eyes held hers. She should say something—anything. But she couldn’t. The intensity of the attraction sparking between them was too much.

‘You’re not eating.’

He glanced quickly at her untouched plate and her pulse-rate leapt as once again his gaze held hers.

‘It’s looks delicious, but—’

‘You’re just not hungry?’ He cut across her words, then took her hand, his own tanned one covering hers easily, sending shock waves of heat up her arm, and she was glad he’d forgotten the talk of his family.

‘No,’ she answered boldly, and wondered what he would say if she told him just what she did want right now. Would he laugh at her if she told him that all she could think of was kissing him, feeling his arms tight around her? She just couldn’t fight the attraction any longer.

‘So what does my sweet bride want?’ He raised her fingers to his lips, dropping lingering kisses to each finger, and all the while he watched her, his eyes darkening with desire. ‘Remember,’ he teased, his voice deep and heavily accented. ‘No pretence—not tonight.’

‘I want...’ She paused and smiled coyly at him as he waited. ‘You.’

Shock laced with excitement fizzed in her veins as he raised his brows, slowly and suggestively. Once more he kissed her fingers, each time lingering longer, until she couldn’t stand the anticipation any more.

He stood up from the table, keeping a tight hold on her hand, and pulled her up against him, holding her close.

Music began to drift around the room, reminding her that they were far from alone, that the crew and staff were lingering in the background to do his bidding. The disappointment she felt at not being totally alone with him shocked her. She wanted what they’d shared over the last few days.

‘It is a tradition, is it not, for the bride and groom to dance together?’

He was so close now she could smell fresh pine mixed with the musky scent of pure male. It was intoxicating.

‘In England it is, yes.’ Her voice was little more than a husky whisper.

‘Then we dance.’

He walked away from the table, guiding her to the middle of the room as the gentle rhythm of the music continued. When he held her close once more her knees threatened to give way, so intense was the attraction between them. It was an attraction that had been stamped out several times already, but Georgina knew this time it was going to be different—because this time she wanted him with a fever that engulfed her whole body. He was her husband now, and despite trying not to she had feelings for him.

This was how a bride should feel, and she pushed back memories of the clinical registry office service when she’d married Richard. It might only be for this one night, but she knew she had to live for the moment—had to surrender herself to it completely. This could be her one chance of sampling such heady romance.

As those thoughts flickered to life in her mind Santos kissed her—a soft, lingering kiss that held the promise of passion, one that awakened every nerve in her body. She deepened the kiss, closing her eyes against the onslaught of pleasure which crashed over her like waves onto the beach as she pressed close against him, feeling the evidence of his desire.

Breaking the kiss, he began to move her slowly around the room to the sound of the music. How could a dance be so erotic, so loaded with sexual tension and the promise of passion? The intensity of it was so much that she longed to give in and rest her head against his shoulder, close her eyes.

No pretence...not tonight.

His deep, husky words replayed in her mind.

Should she allow herself to taste what it might be like to love a man? To feel what it would be like to be loved back? Santos certainly seemed to be playing the part of devoted lover today. She didn’t think for one moment it wasn’t part of the charade they had created, but right now, as his arms held her close, the idea of happy-ever-after seemed tangibly close.

She laid her cheek against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her as she closed her eyes. He tensed, and she knew he hadn’t been able to abandon the idea of pretence completely. He was as on edge as she was, which made her a little less vulnerable—because together they could abandon the carefully constructed façades they each lived behind.

His arms tightened around her body, pulling her closer to him, and heat raced through her. As he pressed his lips into her hair she closed her eyes again, the sensation too much, and focused all her attention on the music instead of the feel of his strong body.

As she moved with him she realised the movement of the yacht had changed and glanced at the shoreline.

‘Have we stopped?’ Her words were husky. She’d never heard her voice like that.

‘Sí, querida.’

He brushed his lips over hers as she looked up at him, sending another flurry of tingles skittering over her.

‘We are to anchor here tonight. The crew and staff are leaving. They will be back in the morning.’

‘So we will be completely alone out here?’

‘Very much so.’

He stroked a hand down her face and she fought the urge to turn and kiss it.

‘Does that worry you, querida?’

It should worry her, but it didn’t. She wanted to be with him like this, to feel his body against hers, to taste his kisses. How could she pretend otherwise?

She searched the dark depths of his eyes, dropping her gaze to his lips briefly before looking back into his eyes. ‘Should I be worried?’ A flirty edge had slipped back into her voice as she struggled to keep her emotions under control and stay behind the safety of the barrier she’d erected long ago.

His voice was deep and incredibly sexy as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lips, making her lose those last doubts.

‘Only if you don’t want me to sweep you up into my arms and carry you to the bedroom.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

RIGHT NOW THAT WAS all Georgina wanted. It was all she could think about. It was as if the gently lapping sea beyond the yacht and the warm breeze had conspired against her. The luxury of everything was feeding the romantic dream she’d long ago abandoned.

But for tonight at least she could live it. Tonight she would live it—would allow herself to taste what she’d never thought possible.

‘What more could a girl ask for from her groom?’

Her heart thumped in her chest and her breathing deepened, so that she had to drag every breath in, but still she couldn’t quite let go of the bravado she always hid behind even as her body yearned for his.

In one swift movement he swept her feet from the floor to hold her firmly in his arms. The silk of her skirt fell apart at the slit and the heat of his fingers on her thigh scorched her skin, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

He swung round so that the tiny spotlights in the yacht’s ceiling blurred behind him as she watched his face. It was set firm, as if his jaw was clenched.

‘Then we will waste no more time.’

The depth of his voice, so sensual, laden with intent, sent a ripple of awareness cascading over her.

She felt every step he took as he marched through the living area. A harsh Spanish curse left his lips as he reached the curving stairs which she guessed led to the bedrooms. Only vaguely aware of her surroundings, she remained focused on his face, but when he looked down at her the intensity of desire burning in his dark eyes made her smile.

He didn’t smile back. His face remained set in firm lines. ‘Damn stairs,’ he growled, and turned his body slightly as he carried her upwards.

She reached up and touched his face, a small sense of triumph shooting through her as he dragged in a ragged breath. His skin was smooth, despite the darkness hinting at fresh stubble growth as her fingers slid down to his neck.

‘You can put me down.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper.

‘Not until I have you where I want you.’

The strength of his words made her shiver with excitement.

As he reached the top of the stairs she looked around her and saw open double doors through which was the most magnificent bedroom she’d ever seen. Briefly she took in the dark mahogany furnishings and the big bed, its cream covers scattered with pink rose petals, as Santos walked briskly towards it.

Gently he placed her on the bed, and she leant back on her arms as he stood like a magnificent bullfighter at the side. She trembled as he looked down at her, his eyes as dark as the depths of the ocean.

Nervousness suddenly washed over her. It had been a long time since she’d been in a situation like this, with a man openly desiring her, his intentions clear. Would he be expecting the practised lover that society thought she was? The temptress she willingly portrayed herself to be?

‘And this is exactly where I want you, querida.’

As the slow, purposeful words came huskily from his lips she watched him undo his tie and drop it to the floor, his jacket soon following.

Hungry for him, she let her gaze devour the strength in his arms as his white shirt pulled tight across his biceps. She bit her lip as he undid the top buttons, exposing dark chest hair and tanned skin. All the while he watched her with such intensity she knew she would be powerless to resist him.

Keeping her gaze locked with his, she reached up to her chignon, but something in his expression stilled her hand. The smouldering passion she saw in his eyes sent a dizzying current through her.

‘Don’t.’

His voice was harsh, and the arrogance that surrounded him maddened and excited her at the same time.

‘But...’ she whispered as he stepped closer to the bed, towering over her, dominating the very air she breathed.

‘I’ve wanted to free your hair all day.’

He knelt on the bed beside her, his weight making her sway towards him as the mattress dipped. Within seconds he’d released the pins that secured her hair and she felt it slide over her shoulders.

‘I’ve wanted to see it around your shoulders in all its glory.’

She closed her eyes against the sensation of his body so close to her, inhaling the intoxicating male scent that was uniquely Santos. When his lips pressed briefly against her shoulder she gasped softly in pleasure.

She opened her eyes and turned to face him, momentarily shocked at how close he was. His handsome face was only inches from hers. ‘Santos...’ she whispered as he kissed her cheek, her forehead, her nose, stoking the ever growing heat deep inside her.

‘I want you, Georgie,’ he husked out between each kiss. ‘I want to make you mine.’

‘I want that too.’ And she did. Nothing else seemed to matter now except the two of them.

He silenced her with a long, lingering kiss that drew every ounce of reservation from her body, replacing it with unadulterated need. A small sound of pleasure escaped her lips as he broke the kiss, only to be smothered as his lips claimed hers in another greedy kiss that rocked her to the core.

* * *

Santos shook with need as he deepened the kiss. Never before had he felt as if he was on the edge of control with a woman—but then never before had a woman played so hard to get.

Her hand touched the side of his face, her palm pressing his cheek as she kissed him back, need for need, her tongue teasing his. He broke free of the kiss and looked at her full lips, already bruised from his kisses, then to her eyes, darker than he’d ever seen them.

She moved back from him, further up the bed, and a hot stab of lust grabbed him as her slender legs were exposed yet again. Teasing and testing him. He took hold of her foot and slowly undid one sandal, pulling it from her before tossing it to the floor.

She smiled and for a moment he thought he saw shyness in her eyes, but then it was gone as she lifted her other foot. He took it, and again slowly removed the sandal, but this time he didn’t let go of her ankle. Unable to help himself, he smoothed his palm up her leg, past her knee, until it slid underneath the silk of her dress. A dress he desperately wanted to remove from her.

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the bed, a look of total abandon on her face as his hand slid higher. The warmth of her skin was almost too much for him. Patience, he urged himself. This was a night to take it slowly. This was a woman to savour.

He reluctantly moved his hand down her thigh, past her knee and back to her shapely ankle.

‘How does a man get his wife out of her wedding gown?’

His voice was uneven and ragged. He was using every last bit of control just to stop himself from taking her right now.

‘At the back.’

The words were a tremulous whisper, serving only to excite him further. He was used to his lovers being bold, but he liked this air of innocence she’d adopted.

She sat forward, waiting for him to unzip the gown. Sitting back on his heels, he steadied himself as he reached behind her and undid a clasp, then slid the zip down her back. His anticipation almost boiled over with every breath she breathed against his naked chest. Her scent invaded his senses and he dragged in a deep breath, tasting her.

At last the bodice of the gown sagged around her and he moved back, catching a glimpse of creamy soft breasts as it slipped lower. Part of him wanted to rip the gown from her, but a more disciplined part of him wanted to savour the moment, to make it special for both of them. It was, after all, their wedding night.

He kissed her, pushing her back against the pillows as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth. She tasted of champagne and his senses fizzed like a shaken bottle. Her arms wound their way around his neck, pulling him down to her, pressing against her.

He spread his hand over her bare shoulder, enjoying the feel of her skin, then slowly slid it downwards—until he met the resistance of the gown’s bodice and wished he had ripped it from her.

She moved beneath him, thrusting her breasts upwards, inviting him to touch them—an invitation he had no trouble in accepting. His hand pushed aside the bodice, cupping her breast, his thumb and finger rubbing over the hardened nipple.

‘Oh, Santos,’ she whispered against his lips as her body arched even more. Need rocked through him.

Words failed him as he kissed down her throat, over her collarbone and down to her breast, finally taking her nipple in his mouth as her fingers ploughed through his hair. But still it wasn’t enough. He wanted more—much more.

He pulled himself away from her, smiling at the disappointment on her face as he did so. ‘This has to go.’ He took hold of the bodice of her gown and pulled. Her breasts were slowly revealed, and then, almost erotically, her flat stomach and her beautifully shaped hips were laid bare to his hungry gaze. ‘So beautiful, mi esposa.’

She smiled at him. And again that shyness he’d glimpsed earlier was in her face as she lay partially naked before him.

He kissed her stomach, revelling in his mastery as her body arched towards him again, begging him for more even if the words didn’t come from her lips. Still lower his kisses went, until he found the silk of her panties. She bucked wildly beneath him then, almost undoing the control he was desperately hanging on to.

He looked up at her, at her dark hair spread about her on the pillow in sexy disarray, eyes closed as she enjoyed his touch. No sign of shyness now.

Agilely he rose from the bed, amused at the expression on her face as she looked at him, questions in her gorgeous eyes. As he pulled the wedding gown down she lifted her bottom, enabling him to pull it away in one go, leaving her dressed in only cream silk panties.

She looked divine.

And she was his.

‘It’s not very fair if you remain dressed, is it?’ Her smile was coy and teasing as she looked up at him, completely at ease with her near nakedness. An accomplished temptress.

He undid the remainder of his shirt buttons with deft fingers and pulled it from his body. Her gaze roved hungrily over his body before finally meeting his eyes, and passion charged around him as his heart thundered like a herd of wild horses.

The air was electrified and he pulled off the remainder of his clothes without breaking eye contact. Her eyes were sending him a secret message of desire and need. How had he ever thought this woman cold?

* * *

Georgina couldn’t help but look at him. Arrogantly naked before her, confidence in every move he made. She knew he’d achieved his aim. He’d made her desire him, want him completely. Every nerve in her body ached for his touch and being naked to his gaze excited her. Never before had she wanted a man as she wanted Santos.

Shyness took over once more, but she tried to act as if being naked in front of a man—a man as naked as she was, who so obviously desired her—was something she was more than used to. She watched as he sat back on the bed, his legs astride hers, rendering movement almost impossible. His aroused body was magnificent, and so very tantalisingly close to her, intensifying the rush of need, of raw desire she’d never known before.

He hooked a finger in the top of her panties, his gaze locking with hers. ‘These too.’

Before she could say or do anything he’d pulled them down. The silk slid from her effortlessly and, in what she could only guess was a well-practised manoeuvre, he pulled them from her legs and threw them to the floor without moving from her at all.

She was exposed, naked and vulnerable, but for the first time in her life she didn’t care. All she cared about right at this moment was satisfying the burning need she had for this man.

Her husband.

Her body ached for the fulfilment of his body. She wanted him in a way she’d never dreamt possible, and sparks of excitement at the prospect of being his shot round her.

He bent low over her and kissed her stomach before moving down further, his breath warm, sending fire gushing through her. She closed her eyes to the pleasure of his exploration. When she thought she couldn’t take it any more his kisses moved back up her stomach to her breasts. In turn he kissed each hardened nipple. He pushed first one knee between her legs, then the other and, giving herself up to an instinct as old as time itself, she opened her legs, wanting to feel him deep inside her, desperate to be at one with him.

Her fingers gripped his shoulders as his erection nudged her moistness. He lowered himself onto her, kissing her as his body shook with the effort of holding back. She felt his heated hardness teasing her, and then, just when she thought she couldn’t take one more second of it, he thrust deep inside her. She gasped at the pleasure of his possession, her fingers gripping ever tighter to his shoulders as she moved with him. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into her, and he groaned in Spanish and thrust harder, deeper.

Their rhythm increased until she couldn’t help but cry out in joy. A new and exciting sensation washed over her and she opened her eyes to look out of the sloping windows above the bed, feeling as if she too were flying among the stars that now sparkled above her in the night sky.

Santos’s body shook and he cried out before burying his head in her hair, his body pressing hers into the bed. She wrapped her arms tightly around his back, keeping him there, wanting to feel him deep within her.

Finally her heart-rate began to slow and her breathing returned to normal. Santos lifted his head and looked into her eyes. ‘Now you’re truly my wife, Georgie.’

She didn’t know what to say—what to do, even—so she just smiled back, her body still too sluggish with the aftermath of passion.

Santos rolled off and away from her and the cool evening air shocked her naked body, making her shiver. He reached down, grabbed a throw from the bottom of the bed, pulled it up over them and, to her total amazement, pulled her close.

She hadn’t expected this. She’d thought he would disappear to the bathroom and come back partially clothed, ready to move on from what they’d just shared. Was this relaxed closeness part of his idea of no pretence? Was this the real man he didn’t want the world to see?

‘I should have asked this sooner,’ he said, his voice sounding strangely unsure, and she wondered what was coming next. ‘But we didn’t use any contraception.’

‘It’s okay,’ she whispered softly, and trailed her fingers down his arm, feeling a thrill of excitement when he groaned and pulled her close against him. Her mind quickly raced, wondering where her handbag was. Thankfully she’d put her contraceptive pills in there when she’d hurriedly packed for Spain. Not that she’d thought she’d actually need their protection. ‘It’s sorted.’

He stiffened slightly. ‘Even so, I should have at least asked, but—’

‘Don’t worry. There won’t be any repercussion from tonight. Just sleep.’ She kissed him lingeringly on the lips, feeling the tension slip from him. Finding herself pregnant was not an option she relished, and she was certain he’d feel the same. ‘Relax, Santos, try and sleep.’

He kissed her, pulling her close against his nakedness, stirring slumbering desire again. ‘How can I sleep with you naked next to me?’

‘At least for a while,’ she teased as he kissed her again, his hands smoothing over her back.

She closed her eyes against the rising need for him, determined to play it cool. He must never know just how much she wanted him at this moment.

As he slept his breathing became deeper and steadier, and in the dim light of the bedroom she could see his naked back. Her fingers were desperate to touch him again, to create a trail over his tanned skin. The temptation became too much and she moved, but as soon as she did his relaxed hold on her tightened and he mumbled something in Spanish. It was enough to stop her.

Instead she lay and looked up at the night sky through the sloping windows just above the bed. The motion of the yacht was soothing and finally she relaxed, after what felt like days of being on edge, waiting for Santos to pull out of their agreement. They were married. The deal was well and truly sealed.

Tomorrow she’d call Emma, tell her to make plans for her own wedding. She smiled, remembering the morning she’d first met Santos. His arrogance and undeniable air of authority had almost made her turn and run from his office. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought that the man she’d proposed to as part of a business deal would end up being the first man she’d ever wanted—really wanted. The first man to show her just how good loving could be. The first man she could love, if only she let herself.

He didn’t love her and had gone to extreme lengths to tell her he couldn’t love anyone. He might have discarded pretence for the night, but would tomorrow be different?

Santos murmured again, pulling her against him and kissing her hair, sending a rush of heat through her body. Firmly she closed her eyes against the new wave of desire that was washing over her—because surely tomorrow it would be different.

Tomorrow she had to focus on Emma, on making sure Santos kept his side of the deal.

* * *

Santos woke in the early hours of dawn, his body heavy and relaxed in a way he’d never felt before. Georgina’s scent lingered on the pillow next to him, reawakening the desire that had coursed like an overflowing river through him last night.

From the other side of the room he heard movement and he propped himself up on his elbow. With amusement he watched as Georgina, sexily naked, appeared to be looking for something to put on. He took in her slender waist, shapely hips and long legs as she stood, her back to him, looking around the room.

‘Buenos dias, mi esposa.’ My wife—that was something he’d never thought he’d call a woman.

She turned to face him and despite her nakedness looked as in control as she always did. For him, last night had changed something, softened the way he felt about her, but apparently it was not the same for her. She looked as if finding herself naked in a man’s room was perfectly normal. A situation she was well used to.

‘Morning,’ she replied huskily, a smile playing about her kissable lips. ‘I was looking for something to put on.’

‘Your bag is in the wardrobe, but you will also find everything else you need in there too.’

Transfixed, he watched as she walked across the room, the swell of her breasts causing the blood to pound in his veins. If she didn’t put something on very quickly she’d find herself back in his bed.

‘Very convenient.’

The hint of sarcasm in her words was not lost on him. Keeping an array of women’s clothes in his villa or on his yacht was not something he’d done before—but then catering for a future wife was not something he’d had to do either.

‘I was merely trying to think of your convenience, querida.’

She opened the door of the wardrobe, assessed the contents, then opted for a cream silk dressing gown. She slipped it on and pulled it tight around her, knotting the belt at her stomach. The garment should have doused the fire now raging in his body, but it didn’t. The outline of her body, still clearly visible, was more teasing than seeing her naked.

‘Come here.’ His voice was gruff and husky as desire pumped through him.

Instantly she looked shy, a blush creeping over her face, and he wondered which was the act. The bravado he saw more often or the innocent shyness she now displayed.

Slowly she walked towards the bed, her eyes darkening, remaining locked with his. He reached towards her, grabbed her hand and pulled her down to the bed.

‘Santos!’ she gasped in shock. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I would have thought that was obvious, querida.’ As she lay beside him on the bed, her breathing faster, her breasts rising and falling in the most erotic way, he pulled the belt undone and pushed aside the silk, exposing her delicious body. ‘I’m going to make love to my wife.’

Those words lit a raging fire inside him.

Unable to analyse those feelings now, he silenced her with a kiss so hard and deep he almost couldn’t breathe. His need for her was far greater than last night—as if now he’d tasted her he needed more, like some kind of addict. Her hands explored his body, pushing aside the sheet and touching him until he couldn’t stand it any longer. Urgently he pushed her back against the bed, covering her body with his as he thrust hard and deep within her delicious warmth.

It was as if his whole world rocked as he climaxed, relishing the feeling of being deep inside her. She cried out, her body arching towards him as she too found release. As his heartrate slowed and his mind regained the ability to think he realised he’d done the one thing he’d never done before. Early-morning sex. It gave women the wrong message. Made them think he wanted more.

But Georgina was already his wife. What more could she want from him?

He lay back, exhausted and exhilarated at the same time, his breathing and heart-rate finally returning to normal, and contemplated what had happened. Because something had changed, but he just couldn’t understand what.

* * *

‘I’ll just go and shower.’ More vulnerable than ever, Georgina wanted to put a little distance between herself and this man’s magnetism.

‘Don’t be too long, querida.’ He smiled at her, sending her senses into a spin as her heart flipped over.

Instead of answering him, she slipped from the bed with a bold teasing smile, grabbed her abandoned dressing gown and headed for the bathroom.

How on earth was she going to cope with today after what they’d shared last night? Would his rule of no pretence continue into the first day of their married life, or would he return to being the arrogant and controlling man she knew he was?

The hot water of the shower did little to ease her worries and she knew she had to talk to Emma. Just to hear her sister’s voice would reaffirm why she’d married Santos.

With a towel wrapped round her body she emerged from the bathroom to find the bedroom empty. Quickly she reached into the wardrobe for her bag and pulled out her phone to see Emma had sent her a message.

OMG Georgie! You and Santos!

As she read the text from her sister she could almost hear her voice, the laughter in it—relief, even—and quickly she called Emma.

‘Georgie!’ Emma’s excited voice was so vibrant it was as if it was on loudspeaker.

‘Emma, I so wish you could be here, but...’ Georgina swallowed. The first lie was about to leave her lips. ‘We just had to get away and be alone.’

‘You’re really happy?’

‘Do you think I’d jet off to Spain if not? After all that I’ve been through?’ Thoughts of Richard mixed with the lies she was telling, the web of deceit she was spinning. It’s for Emma, she reassured herself.

‘Then I’m happy for you—but can you do one thing for me?’

‘Anything for you, Emma.’ That at least was true.

‘Don’t come back just yet. Carlo and I... Well, we’re going to arrange our wedding, and if Santos finds out he’s sure to put a stop to it. He’s so against us getting married.’

Georgina swallowed hard. She should tell Emma. Instead she lightened her voice. ‘We’re enjoying our time together.’ Was that a lie? she wondered as her body warmed at the memory of last night—her wedding night. ‘Do you really think we’re going to rush back to London?’

As she ended the call she let out a big sigh—relief that her sister and Carlo were now actually able to plan their wedding. She wished she’d been able to tell Emma that Santos was now her brother-in-law, but that was the kind of news to tell her face to face, when they got back to London.

Anxiety rose up. Just how was she going to convince Santos that heading back to reality was not what he wanted to do?

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE SUN WAS HOT by the time Georgina came up on deck, to find Santos relaxing, an empty coffee cup on the table. She hadn’t yet seen him look quite this relaxed before, so at ease with life.

As if aware of her presence he turned to face her, and she wanted to hug her arms about her body, to shield herself from his appraising gaze. Instead she fought the urge, and when the wind blew the sheer kaftan against her like a second skin, revealing the tiny blue bikini she’d reluctantly put on, she walked towards him. As confident as any of the top models he’d dated, she smiled.

‘It’s so wonderful out here, away from everybody. I’d love to stay a bit longer.’ She slid seductively into the seat opposite him, nerves tingling all over her body.

Anxiety, she told herself, refusing to acknowledge the fact that it was Santos who did that to her.

He looked past her briefly and she wondered if she’d gone too far. But a moment later a tray of breakfast and fresh coffee arrived. The crew were obviously back on board. Once they were alone again he turned his attention to her, his dark eyes sparkling like the sea in the morning sun.

‘There would be one condition.’ He poured coffee, the aroma reminding her of how little she’d eaten last night.

‘And that would be...?’ Her voice was flirty—the exact opposite of how she felt.

‘The same as last night.’

‘Last night...’ she breathed, in a husky echo of his words as her body responded to the memory of his touch, his kisses.

He smiled, a dangerously seductive smile, and she all but melted. ‘No pretence.’

‘None at all?’ She teased him with a coy smile, her fingers twining in her hair.

‘I like the real Georgie.’ He leant forward in his seat, his brows lifting suggestively. ‘The Georgina you don’t let the world see.’

She laughed a nervous laugh that made him smile even more, which in turn sent her heart thumping erratically. ‘You make me sound fake—as if I’m a total fraud.’

‘Not fake,’ he said, and passed her a coffee.

She sipped it, thankful for something to do other than look into his handsome face.

‘Just scared to let anyone know the real you.’

His words hit her with the precision of a marksman. Not letting the world see the real Georgina was just what she’d tried to do for the last five years. For so long that sometimes she forgot who she really was—forgot the woman with dreams of happiness. No, going there wasn’t an option.

‘Well, I guess we’ll just have to spend time together—get to know one another a bit better.’ She sipped her coffee and looked out at the sea, its ever-moving waves sparkling like diamonds, before turning her attention back to him.

‘Exactamente.’

His gaze held hers, dark and passionate, sending shivers down her spine, and she wondered if she could do this. But if Emma was to stand any chance of making her wedding arrangements in peace she had to ensure they stayed in Spain.

‘Thank you,’ she said, alarmed at how husky her voice had suddenly become, how easily she could slip into the role of seductress.

‘We’ll sail further along the coast. There is a secluded cove we can stop at—a good place to swim in the sea.’

He smiled at her again. Her heart flipped over and butterflies took flight in her stomach. Perhaps it wouldn’t be hard, keeping him occupied, because she really did want to. He was so very different from the man she’d first met in his office, the man her sister had talked of. This man consumed her very soul—made her want him and the dreams she’d long since forgotten.

‘I’d like that.’ A blush crept over her cheeks as she met his gaze before it slid down over her body, taking in all that the bikini did very little to hide.

‘For my beautiful bride—anything.’ He stood and leant down over her, his lips hovering tantalisingly close to hers as she looked up at him.

His breath was warm on her face and she resisted the need to close her eyes, wanting to see his. With excruciating slowness he brought his lips down onto hers, the sensation sending sparks of awareness all over her until she could only close her eyes, give in to the pleasure of his lips as they brushed gently over hers.

The kiss ended and he stood upright, dominating the sheltered outside area of the yacht. ‘I will go and make arrangements while you enjoy breakfast.’

She watched him stride away, his casual jeans hugging his long legs to perfection. She shook her head briefly, trying to stop the images of last night, memories of his tanned body against her pale skin.

In a bid to quell her rising desire she turned her attention to the breakfast, not sure if she could eat anything. But the array of fresh fruit and the lure of warm croissants soon won her appetite over.

She became aware of the coastline receding, the yacht moving smoothly through gently rolling waves. Excitement fizzed inside her. It was like being young again.

She’d been happy before life had plunged her into a situation she really hadn’t wanted. Her whole outlook on life had been carefree and full of adventure until the night her father had left. Now those memories were the reason she’d promised herself she’d never have children—because what would happen if she became like her mother? What would happen if she too went from one man to the next, looking endlessly for something that didn’t exist, ignoring her children to the point of neglect?

‘Why so sad, querida?’

Santos’s accented voice shattered her thoughts as surely as if she’d been viewing them through a mirror.

‘I was just remembering.’ Quickly she tried to hide her emotions, recreate the impenetrable wall she hid behind, because right now her defences were low. Too low. And Santos was watching her with such unexpected sympathy she almost couldn’t look at him.

‘We all have things we shouldn’t remember, but sometimes it helps to talk.’

His tone was soothing and reassuring. He sat next to her, taking her hand, his thumb stroking over the back of it gently. His concern as genuine as a lover’s. She wanted to pull away, to distance herself from him. She felt utterly exposed, as if every emotion was completely visible to him.

‘It was just my excitement as I realised the yacht was moving,’ she said, aware of the hoarseness in her voice. ‘It’s like being young again.’

He nodded once, his eyes full of understanding. ‘What happened?’

‘My mother found solace in the bottle after my father left.’ Her heart thumped hard as pent-up anger flowed through her like a tidal wave—one that couldn’t be halted now as it roared towards the shore. ‘I had no choice but to care for Emma, try and shield her from it all. I had to grow up very quickly.’

‘Shield her from what, Georgie?’

She looked up at him. His voice was now hard and controlled, his eyes narrowed and his brows pulling together in concentration.

She shouldn’t be telling him this. It had nothing to do with him, and would serve no purpose whatsoever, but it was liberating to finally share it with someone.

‘What was it, Georgina?’ he urged as her silence lengthened.

He reached out and pushed back the hair from her face and she dropped her gaze, not wanting to see the sympathy in his eyes. How could a man as ruthless and in control as Santos possibly understand?

‘Tell me, Georgie.’

One hand stroked her hair whilst the other held firmly onto her hand. She had no means of escape, no way out.

What would he think of her if she told him?

‘At first she was just incapable of looking after us—that was unless she was in the throes of a new affair—but soon it was down to me to get Emma to school, to put a meal on the table.’

He stopped stroking her hair, his hand resting on her shoulder, warm and comforting. ‘Go on.’

Those first words had unleashed all her hurt and she knew she should stop. She shrugged, not wanting to allow him any closer emotionally.

‘So I got out as soon as an opportunity presented itself. I had to. It was the only way of keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table. Any money my mother had was spent on what she considered important—not on what actually was, like food and rent.’

He sat back from her, his hands falling to his thighs, silent for a moment as he took in what she’d said. ‘That opportunity being your marriage to Richard Henshaw?’ His voice was hard, a slight growl in his throat.

She looked up at him. He really did think she’d married purely for the money and status Richard had given her. Words of defence were on the tip of her tongue, but something stopped her, froze them as if the warm sea breeze had changed to a bitter winter wind. Instead she wanted to tell him—wanted him to know.

‘He offered me everything I wanted—and more.’

She sat taller in her seat and looked him in the eye. For a moment she’d almost told him the truth—told him how Richard had literally rescued her, offering her security for Emma and asking for nothing other than that she took his name. But sense had prevailed. If he wanted to think of her as a gold-digging socialite then he could.

‘And, yes,’ she added, with the haughty tone she knew made her sound so like the woman he thought she was resounding in her voice, ‘I married him for his money and his status. But you can’t accuse me of hiding that from you. Not when it is common knowledge.’

* * *

Santos’s stomach hardened as his breath came fast. He clenched his teeth against an attack of jealousy as he imagined Georgina with another man—one she’d just admitted she’d had no feelings for. She hadn’t attempted to hide the fact that she’d used a man who must have known he was ill when he married her.

She’d used Richard and she sat there now with the innocence of a child and waited for his reaction. He was angry with himself—angry at the irrational jealousy that raged inside him just thinking of her with another man. She was his wife, and what he felt for her now surpassed anything he’d felt for previous lovers.

‘We all have a past, querida.’ He kept his tone as nonchalant as possible, regretting having started the conversation. He’d known of her reputation when he’d agreed to their ludicrous deal, so why did it matter so much?

Control, he reminded himself. Whatever happened he had to be in control, and for a moment there he’d almost lost it—almost given in to the temptations of the devil. This whole episode was about getting what he wanted, not about emotions. Never emotions.

He stood up and walked to the side of the yacht, checking their location, almost relieved to see they had arrived at his chosen bay. He breathed deeply, enjoying the salty tang in his mouth, trying to revitalise himself before he turned back to look at the woman who was now his wife.

‘Yes, we do. Including you.’

The accusation in her voice was clear and he couldn’t help but smile at her pretence at fury. Her expression was severe, but her eyes were telling a different story.

‘It’s called life, Georgie.’ He put out a hand and stepped towards her. ‘And right now ours is for living. What about a swim in the sea? Wash all your troubles away?’

For a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Confusion furrowed her brow, then she regained her composure, took his hand and smiled up at him, openly flirting.

‘A swim sounds delicious.’

Delicious. She was delicious, with the wind wrapping the almost see-through kaftan close to her glorious body, the blue bikini showcasing just what a figure she had. Lust thudded in his veins and he cursed his wayward thoughts.

‘Something wrong?’ A hint of a playful smile tugged her full lips up at the corners.

She knew exactly what was wrong, damn her.

‘No. Unless it’s wrong for a man to want to drag his wife back to bed instead of going swimming?’ His voice was deep and guttural with the effort of reining in his libido.

She blushed and, as he had many times in the last few days, he wondered how she managed that little trick—how she managed to appear so innocent. ‘I think we should swim first. It’s not even midday yet.’

First.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her darkening eyes were smouldering, giving him the message, setting fire to the embers of desire that had scorched his body last night. Never before had a woman affected him so much, made him want her so badly—but then never before had he had to wait so long to get a woman into his bed. And he certainly hadn’t had to marry her to do so.

The irony of it wasn’t lost on him as he felt her hand in his. It felt surprisingly good, as if it was right. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he managed, despite the heat that raged within him. A swim in cold water was exactly what he needed.

He led her to the platform that had been lowered once the yacht was anchored and slipped off his deck shoes. Her gaze heated his blood as he pulled off his shirt, the sun instantly warm on his skin.

‘Not joining me?’ he teased, tugging off his jeans, amused by the blush that crept over her cheeks as her gaze slid down his body, resting on the evidence of just how aroused he had become at her loaded promise of what was to follow their swim.

The air crackled around them, their attraction as overpowering as if he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t tasted her skin or made her his. It was like the first time all over again, with anticipation raging in him like a bull.

He dived into the blue waters, and the rush of cold over his body was just what he needed. As he broke the surface he wiped water from his face and looked back up at Georgina, now sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the water, wearing only that very sexy blue bikini.

‘It’s cold!’

She laughed, her face lighting up, giving her an air of playful innocence, tugging at something deep within him.

‘Only at first. Come on—you’ll never know how good it is until you try it.’ He trod water as he spoke, energised by the exercise and cold water.

* * *

Georgina watched, mesmerised, as his strong arms kept him exactly where he wanted to be. His strength and power were undeniable. She was behaving like a lovestruck teenager. Her heart was still pounding after that moment when he’d stood before her in his trunks, his tanned skin gleaming in the sun, the hardness of his arousal obvious. She wanted him with a ferocious need so alien that her breath had caught in her throat, and she’d been relieved when he’d expertly dived into the clear water. Relieved he had taken the temptation from her.

Cautiously she slipped into the water, gasping and laughing at the same time. ‘It’s so cold!’ She tried hard to be sophisticated and serene, but all she managed was a fumbling splash.

‘Only for a while,’ Santos said, and in one stroke he moved towards her, encircling her body with his arm, keeping her safe and close. ‘Like you were the day you propositioned me in my office.’

Shocked that he’d brought that up, she stopped moving her arms and immediately sank below the surface. His arm around her body pulled her back up, spluttering like a child.

‘How dare you?’ She tried to move away from him, back to the platform.

‘Oh, I dare, querida—because it’s true. You want everyone to think you are carved from ice, but you’re not, are you?

She clutched the platform, gained a foothold on the ladder and pulled herself out of the water, then turned to face him as he looked up at her from the blue waves. ‘Neither are you.’

‘Can you blame me when you stand there like a sea goddess, water dripping from you in a most inviting way?’

‘You’re impossible.’ The words rushed out, her frustration making her want to march away, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from Santos as in one swift movement that made the muscles in his arms flex he hauled himself out of the sea.

Water ran down his tanned chest, trickling among his dark hair, heading downwards. She knew she shouldn’t be looking, but she couldn’t help herself. His thighs were strong and more dark hair lay flat against his wet skin, creating patterns all the way to his ankles. He was magnificent as he stood, sunlight gleaming on his skin.

He grabbed her hand and without a word headed back inside the yacht, leaving her little option but to follow. She couldn’t say anything. The same sexual tension that had last night completely robbed her of the ability to think, let alone speak, raged around them.

In seconds they were alone in their suite, and only then did he let go of her hand. For a moment they looked at one another, gazes locked in some sort of primal dance. His chest rose and fell with the effort of breathing, just as hers did, and she knew instantly where this was going to end—and, worse, where she wanted it to end. He was an addiction.

With a muttered Spanish curse he turned and opened the door to the bathroom, and she watched through the doorway as he turned on the shower. She swallowed hard as he turned back to her, his expression almost fierce with control.

‘Santos...’ She managed a croaky whisper as he held out his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her hard against his wet body. Only then did she realise she was trembling.

‘You’re cold,’ he said quietly, but she didn’t miss the intensity in his voice.

She wasn’t cold—not enough to tremble like this. It was him, and the electrified air that seemed to surround them.

‘Come on.’ He led her into the steam-filled bathroom and into the shower—one that had definitely been designed for two.

His hands slowly untied the bikini where it fastened at her neck, and each time his fingers touched her she had to suppress a shiver of pleasure. He let the thin straps go and peeled the wet material slowly away from her breasts, his gaze lingering enticingly on them.

He made a signal with his hands for her to turn around and slowly she did so, meeting the jets of warm water. Behind her she felt his hands as he released the final clasp of the bikini top and it dropped to the shower floor. Seconds later it was joined by his black trunks and her knees nearly buckled beneath her. Desire flooded her as he pressed his naked body against her back.

Instinctively her chin tilted up and she leant her head back against his shoulder, turning her face towards his. Hot, urgent lips claimed hers with such force she staggered forward, taking them both under the hot jets of water. His hands cupped her breasts and fire engulfed her, making her cry out with pleasure.

‘You are the most desirable woman ever, mi esposa.’

He kissed down her neck, uttering words she didn’t understand. But she did understand the desire and passion entwined with each one. A desire and passion that raged as wildly inside her.

‘Santos, I want you.’ Her voice was husky as his hands slid down her stomach, his fingers tugging at the ties on the side of the bikini briefs. As the material fell away his fingers moved towards the heated centre of her need for him and she arched away from him, trying to fight the ripple of pleasure from his touch.

With a suddenness that knocked all the breath from her body he turned her around, grasped her thighs, lifting her against him.

‘Santos, it’s never been like this before,’ she gasped between ragged breaths as he lowered her onto him, plunging deeply and urgently inside her. She didn’t care that she was telling him too much, giving away just how inexperienced she really was and how she was falling in love with him.

‘Never?’ The question rasped from him, halting her thoughts, as his fingers dug into her thighs, holding her where he wanted her.

She moved with him, encouraging him in this hot, hard and primal dance. ‘Never,’ she gasped out as stars shattered around her so that instead of water coursing all over her it was stardust. ‘Never. Never.’

As he found his release she clung to his body, trembling more now than she had when she’d stood before him in the bedroom just moments ago. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving against her tender breasts, one arm braced against the shower wall.

‘At least we agree on something.’ His voice, heavily accented, was a ragged whisper.

He released his vice-like grip on her thighs and she slid down, her legs so weak she wondered if she’d be able to stand. She couldn’t. Her knees crumpled, but his arms were about her and in seconds he’d swept her up off her feet and left the shower.

Pausing briefly to grab a towel, he made his way to the bed. As if she were the most precious thing in the world he let her down to stand in front of him and then wrapped the white towel around her, heedless of his own wet body. Then he bent and kissed her lips so tenderly she thought she might actually cry. This was exactly what she’d abandoned all hope of ever finding, this warm, loving feeling.

Except this wasn’t for real. This was just part of a deal, satisfying the attraction that had been arcing between them since that very first meeting. It was also the only way she knew of keeping Santos from heading back to the villa and maybe London.

‘You’re still wet,’ she whispered, not wanting to analyse her motives or question her dreams now.

He stepped back from her and started rubbing his hands over the towel to dry her. This was getting too intense, too close to being like a proper romance, so great was the attraction she felt for him. Her breath shuddered as he pulled the towel from her and dried himself off. And all the while his gaze held hers, the passion and desire still flowing between them evident in the depths of his eyes.

He picked her dressing gown off the bed, now remade after their night of passion, and handed it to her. ‘You must care for your sister very much.’

Instantly her senses were on high alert. What was he suggesting? ‘She’s all I have.’

He handed her the cream silk garment. ‘But to marry just so that your sister can marry for love?’ His voice rose with incredulity as he took fresh clothes from the wardrobe and hastily got dressed.

‘Maybe I love my sister as much as you hate your brother.’ Was he referring to their marriage or her first one? It made no difference; both had been made out of love for her sister.

Tension filled the room and his eyes sparked with anger as he stood in front of her, all the passion and desire of moments ago forgotten.

‘Half-brother.’ The words were harsh and staccato.

She pulled on the dressing gown, no longer wanting him to see her naked now he was clothed, as if it somehow weakened her. He turned and paced across the room towards the door, but she couldn’t let him go, couldn’t let him walk out now, even if it meant killing the loving moments they’d shared.

‘Coward.’ The word rushed from her lips, provoking him.

Instantly he whirled round and fixed her with a fierce glare, his face a hardened and angry mask. ‘I don’t do emotions, Georgina. Hate or love. I don’t do them.’

‘And because of that two people who love one another are suffering.’

‘How?’ He strode back across the room, but she stood her ground. ‘And how do you know they are in love? How do they even know?’

‘You must have loved someone, Santos, despite what you just said.’

‘Love is for weak-willed fools.’ His voice was like granite and his eyes glittered dangerously as he looked at her.

‘You don’t really believe that?’ she whispered in disbelief.

She’d vowed she’d never love anyone other than Emma, never give her heart to a man as her mother had time and time again. But somehow she’d become dangerously close to loving Santos.

‘Isn’t that why you made this damn deal, Georgina, because you don’t believe in love?’ He was like an angry lion, caged up and looking for a way out as he strode across the room to glance out of the window. He turned and looked at her, waiting for her reply.

‘I did it for love.’ She rallied against his contempt. ‘I did it for the love of my sister.’

‘Ha!’ He laughed, so arrogantly she almost cringed. ‘You did it for money, for all you could get from it—just as you did the first time around.’

How dared he bring Richard into this? The man who had seen she needed a lifeline and offered one without expecting anything in return? Well, if that was what he thought of her, so be it. Attack was the best form of defence.

‘Yes, just as I did the first time.’

For a moment he looked at her in stunned silence, his jaw grinding hard. He looked for all the world as if he was jealous of Richard. How could a powerful man like Santos be jealous of anything or anyone?

He glared at her. ‘Get dressed,’ he snapped after what seemed like an eternity. ‘We’re going back to the villa.’

Panic tore at her. She’d promised Emma she’d keep him out of the way, and here on the yacht was the perfect place.

‘So soon?’ She hated the nervous edge to her voice, but knew any attempts at flattering him would be futile.

His eyes narrowed. ‘I have work to do. Playing at this newlywed game has gone on for long enough.’

With that he strode from the room and she sank onto the bed. Last night they had made love for the first time, been given pleasure so intense it still lingered in her body. Only minutes ago they had been consumed by desire and need for one another. How could the man who kissed her so passionately be the same man who’d just left the room?

She dragged in a deep breath, pressing her fingertips to her lips, bruised from his hard kisses in the shower. How could she, a woman who’d renounced love, feel such desolation as the man she’d given herself to last night with total completeness walked out on her?

CHAPTER NINE

SANTOS’S MOOD WAS as dark as the storm clouds rolling down from the mountains. He’d thought Georgina was different, thought she could keep emotions out of things. Instead she’d proved beyond doubt that she was as clingy as any woman, unable to resist the urge to delve into his past.

He’d thought he’d met his match—a woman who could share his passion without the need for anything more.

But he’d been wrong, damn it, very wrong.

‘I have business matters to attend to.’

Unable to keep the frustration from reverberating in his voice as they arrived back at the villa, he swung the car in through the gates without giving the photographers loitering there a second glance and powered up the driveway.

Georgina was silent next to him, but he could feel her watching him. He couldn’t look at her now. She’d already proved just what an effect she had on him, proved how easily she could distract him.

‘I’ll get ready to go back to London.’ Her voice was quiet, but firm.

‘London?’ The car halted abruptly as he fought for control. His fingers curled hard around the leather of the steering wheel as he gripped it even harder. One thing was for certain: she was not going back to London. Not yet.

‘It’s what I’d planned once the world knew we were married.’ Her voice still had a husky edge to it, but strength and determination echoed there too.

That unsettled him even more. She seemed able to shut off and return to icy control much more easily than he was able to do. The carefree hours they’d spent on the yacht meant his usual detached approach to relationships was eluding him. And he didn’t like it.

Santos looked at her lips, full and still very kissable. Fire leapt to life deep within him—a ferocious burning need to take her straight to his bed once more. It was more than lust, this need to be with her. He gritted his teeth; he had to be as collected as she was right now.

‘That is what you originally planned, Georgina.’ He tossed the words carelessly at her, trying to appear as unaffected by her as possible as he turned off the engine and got out of the car. ‘But it is not what we finally agreed on.’

She got out of the car, all elegance and poise, then faced him across the shiny red roof. She looked stunning, sexy, and very different from the woman he’d brought here just a few days ago. Her eyes were bright, her skin lightly tanned and her hair looked tousled, as if she’d just got out of his bed.

‘I’m going home, Santos.’ Her words were clipped as she slammed the car door shut.

‘You are home. You agreed to live as my wife, to be by my side, and right now I’m here.’

Not wanting to discuss it further, he locked the car and marched into the house, heading straight for his study. The sound of her footsteps on the marble floor would have told him she was following even if his body hadn’t tingled so wildly, alerting him to her presence.

‘Look, Santos...’ She practically purred as she followed him into the sanctuary of his study. Hell, she was good at this—good at putting on a show of whatever she wanted people to see. Anger, gentleness or hot desire, it didn’t matter—she was an accomplished actress through and through. ‘Is there really a need to keep up this pretence?’

He thought of the clause of his father’s will, the way it had pushed him into not only marrying but considering having a child, an heir. Frustration mixed with his anger and he pushed the thought roughly aside.

‘It was in the agreement.’ He kept his words firm as he headed to the filing cabinet and the file containing copies of their pre-nuptial agreement.

‘I did not sign anything to say I would stay by your side like a faithful puppy dog. You must be mistaken, Santos.’ Her eyes sparked fury at him, their colour lightening to a brilliant bronze, and her voice had a sharp edge to it, but she still looked sexy, still made his body ache for her.

If she continued to stand there like that, her hand on her hip, her lips almost pouting, he’d have to kiss her. And if he did that he’d never stop. She was like an addiction.

He turned his back on her, opened the cabinet drawer and pulled out the folder, tossing it on the desk so that the contents slipped from it, spreading across the table like a pack of cards. ‘Take a look.’

Her gaze dropped from his face to the documents, then back to his. ‘I know what I signed.’ Her voice wavered slightly. ‘But we’ve done what we set out to do. If I have to stay here then at least let me ring Emma, tell her she and Carlo can set a date.’

He inhaled deeply. He had to tell her just what else he needed from the marriage.

Her phone rang and she delved into her bag and pulled it out. For a moment she looked at it, then at him. ‘It’s Emma,’ she said as the ringing ceased. ‘What do I tell her? That we are happily married so they can be the same?’

He cursed harshly and paced to his window, taking in the view of the mountains almost obscured by dark clouds laden with the promise of a storm. The air was heavy and he knew that at any moment it would break.

He cursed again and dragged his fingers through his hair with an unaccustomed feeling of tumultuous emotions. What the hell had happened to him to make him feel so out of control?

He’d got married. One of the two things in the world he’d never wanted to do. The second was to become a father, and now it seemed his hand was to be forced there too unless he could find another way.

Again he raked his hands through his hair. He couldn’t think straight. The air was becoming heavier and more oppressive by the minute and he could feel Georgina’s gaze fully on him, expectantly waiting for an answer.

‘Tell her to arrange their wedding.’ His words were sharp, and it was an effort to keep his frustration at the situation he now found himself in from showing. Damn it, he still couldn’t tell her why she had to stay.

Her gaze locked with his, the soft brown eyes that had almost melted his soul as he’d made her his now burnished like copper, angry and glittering. He clenched his hands and met her challenging gaze.

‘This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?’ What was she waiting for now? His blessing for the marriage?

‘You know it is...’

A but seemed to linger in the air with as much threat as the storm he could feel waiting to erupt.

He raised a brow at her, finally slipping back into his professional mode. ‘Anything else?’

She shook her head, a look of disappointment crossing her face and he bit down hard on the sudden urge to go to her, to hold her and make everything right. Because he couldn’t. He would never be able to make this right—for Georgina or himself.

She stood tall and resolute for a few more seconds, her gaze fixed to his, then she left, taking with her some of the pressure that dominated the room.

He needed to contact his legal team. There just had to be a way out of that final clause. Satisfied he’d sorted the situation for now, he turned on his laptop. He had far too many emails to answer, but the first one snared his attention with such ferocity he dropped down into his chair.

It was offering him congratulations on his marriage. Just what they had planned. But it was the last line that almost made his heart stop. He and Georgina weren’t the only couple to have got married.

Blood pounded in his ears, the sound so loud it almost masked the first rumble of thunder as the storm finally broke.

It couldn’t be true.

Quickly he scanned the headlines and within minutes found confirmation that, yes, it was true. He’d been tricked, manipulated, and totally played for a fool. He wanted to rage and shout, but one thing life had taught him was that rushing in without first knowing all the facts could leave him in a weak position.

No, this had to be approached with caution. He had to know what part Georgina had played in this. Instinct told him it was a very big part. He was angry he’d lowered his defences enough for her to see the man he really was. For the first time ever he’d felt the stirrings of something he’d shut out of his life long ago and had almost been fooled into opening that door.

* * *

Georgina slipped outside to the pool. The clouds were dark and heavy. It looked as if a storm was brewing, and she hated storms—she’d never shaken off her childhood fear of them. Despite the dark clouds that hung low in the sky she settled on a lounger by the pool, her need to speak with Emma greater than her desire to hide from the storm. She could hardly wait to hear her sister’s squeal of delight when she told her they could set a date.

‘Georgie.’ Emma sounded different somehow as she answered the phone. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m still in Spain, and you can get set a date for your wedding.’ She took a breath, putting on an air of jubilation—one she was far from feeling. ‘Santos and I—we’re married.’

Emma hesitated, and a shiver of apprehension slipped down Georgina’s spine as the silence lengthened down the phone connection.

Finally Emma spoke, sounding oddly far away. ‘I know. It’s all over town.’

At least her plan had worked, Georgina consoled herself. All she could hope for now was that Emma would believe that she and Santos had married because of the attraction they had for one another, after the whirlwind romance that had started at the party.

‘Georgie...’

Emma’s voice sounded nervous, and as the silence lengthened still further Georgina heard the first rumble of thunder. ‘Georgie, Carlo and I...we got married a few days ago.’

Georgina almost dropped the phone with shock. Her quiet, biddable sister had gone against everyone and married in secret, without even telling her. Hurt lanced through her as she thought of the day she’d always imagined for Emma—a day when she would be there to see her married, not on a yacht off the coast of Spain.

A flash of lightning made Georgina’s heart-rate accelerate wildly, but she tried to keep it under control. She didn’t want Emma to worry—didn’t want her to know of the ramifications her actions.

‘Georgie, are you still there?’

She could hear the unease in her sister’s voice and tried to focus her mind. How could Emma have betrayed her?

‘I have to go, Emma, there’s a storm coming. I’ll call you later.’

She cut the connection as the full implications of what this meant hit home.

And Santos. What would he think?

A low rumble of thunder followed by the first heavy drops of rain made her retreat to the safety of the villa. Her fear of the storm outweighed the fact that Santos was himself like a brewing storm—one she didn’t want to be around when it broke. From the doorway she watched the raindrops falling into the pool, disturbing its smooth surface. Deep down she knew she had more than a storm to fear.

The temperature dropped and a cool wind picked up. The white curtains billowed into the room where she stood, watching the increasingly heavy rain. Lightning lit up the darkening sky and she shuddered in a breath, as tense as the air around her. The clap of thunder was so loud she had to suppress a scream as she beat a hasty retreat further into the villa, feeling as shaken by Emma’s revelation as by the storm itself. The trembling of her hands was very real.

‘Scared of the storm?’ Santos’s voice was clipped and hard. ‘Or is this another of your wonderful acting roles?’

She frowned, blinking in confusion as he came to stand before her. His dark eyes were full of fury and as he folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her she saw visible tension in his neck and shoulders.

‘A little,’ she lied, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if she were cold, refusing to rise to the bait of his last comment.

His gaze darted to the movement, watching through narrowed eyes, then moved back to her face. She fought the way her body responded to him, despite her apprehension about telling him what she’d just found out. She took a deep breath and tried to focus herself, curb her fear of the storm and deny the need to be held by him, to feel safe in his arms.

He marched past her and closed the doors to the terrace. The curtains ceased their wild dance but the tension of the storm remained, wrapping itself around them, drawing them towards each other. His dark gaze met hers and defiantly she lifted her chin, straightened her back, determined not to show him her fear.

There were two storms raging, she realised with a sinking feeling. Two storms she was going to have to ride out, no matter what. There wasn’t any escape from either now.

‘Your plan worked,’ he said as he stood with his back to the doors and the lashing rain.

The dark clouds behind him only intensified the image of anger he projected.

‘My plan was for Emma to think we were lovers so she wouldn’t question our marriage.’ Her voice didn’t sound as firm as she wanted, and anxiety made her stomach flutter. She had to regain her composure.

‘And why was that so important, Georgina?’

The use of her full name hurt, somehow, and the light sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

‘You openly admit to marrying for financial security once already—why would she question our marriage?’

She watched his jaw tighten as he took in a deep breath, as if he was holding back what he really wanted to say. ‘She never knew I married Richard so that I could fund her education and give her a secure home. My first marriage isn’t part of this, Santos.’

Thunder cracked overhead, the villa seeming to shake with the force of it. Georgina glanced anxiously around the room, thankful that she was no longer out at sea.

‘It damn well is when your reputation precedes you.’ His voice was hard and echoed the aggression of the storm. The expression on his face was as dark and brooding as the sky.

‘My reputation?’ Lightning lit the room and her heart thudded almost as loudly as the thunder. ‘If by that you mean that I married Richard, an older and unwell man, because he offered me lifelong security in return for a few years of companionship, then, yes, my reputation does precede me.’

She glared at him, hardly able to believe they were discussing her first marriage when it was the marriage of his brother to her sister that should take precedence. That was the one that affected them both, whether they liked it or not.

She had to tell him, but anxiously kept the conversation on its current course. As the next crack of thunder threatened to shake the foundations of the villa she stood her ground, glaring at Santos.

‘A companionship so loving that you were dating other men just weeks after his funeral.’ He practically snarled the words at her, so intense was his anger.

‘It was what he wanted,’ she said, softly but firmly, remembering how insistent Richard had been that she should move on in life, find herself a man she could love.

She’d dated a few men just to do as Richard had wanted, to honour the memory of the man who’d given her a future. But she hadn’t enjoyed their company and very quickly gossip had started.

After the initial shock of being at the centre of everyone’s speculation she’d soon realised it provided a wall to hide behind.

‘I found out very quickly that seeing a man once or twice only was the best way.’ Let him think the worst of her. She had other worries right now. Besides, if he believed that of her it would keep him at arm’s length—something she had to do now no matter what. She couldn’t dwell on the closeness they’d shared.

Santos’s brow furrowed. ‘Best way for what?’ The words snapped from him.

‘For doing what you do,’ she flung at him as another rumble of thunder, just as intense, reverberated around the room. ‘For keeping the world at bay, keeping the gossips with something to get their teeth into, because ultimately it meant I could be on my own. I never wanted to be married the first time and I certainly don’t want to be married now.’

She flopped down onto the sofa, unable to fight any longer. Remaining indifferent to what was being said about her and the shock of what Emma had done was finally too much.

How could her sister have said nothing? How could she have sneaked away the moment she’d left for Spain? It was a complete and utter betrayal. Emma had as good as thrown everything she’d ever done for her back in her face.

Santos walked across the marble floor. A hint of softness entered his tone as he crouched before her, forcing her to look into his eyes. ‘Then why offer yourself to me?’

She swallowed down the urge to cry, to collapse into an emotional heap, and looked into his eyes. Their dark depths were almost unreadable. He was so close, and the spark of attraction passing between them was as strong as ever, but she mustn’t let that cloud her mind and muddle her judgement.

‘Why, Georgina?’ he prompted, his voice a little firmer, and she realised the anger she’d seen in him earlier was still simmering beneath the surface.

She took a breath to tell him what she’d just learnt, but couldn’t. The look in his glittering eyes halted those words

‘For Emma,’ she began, trying to put off the moment just a little longer. ‘She believes in the dream of love, the happy-ever-after, and it’s Carlo—your brother—who is that dream for her. When she told me about the will it seemed the most obvious deal to make. I’d married for convenience for Emma’s benefit once before. I could do it again.’

Georgina was emotionally wrung out, but she had to tell him. She didn’t want to—didn’t want to rouse his anger—but she knew she had to. She couldn’t keep it from him. He had a right to know.

‘They are already married.’

The words were out before he had a chance to say anything.

He studied her for a moment, crouching in front of her as if he was talking to a child, making her think he’d be good with children. An image of her holding a baby with Santos’s dark eyes and complexion rushed into her mind, not for the first time in recent days, but she pushed it harshly away. Marrying him was one thing, but she’d never have his child. She could never have a child, full-stop. She didn’t want to risk being as useless as her own mother.

‘When did you know?’ His words, although cajoling, still reverberated with anger.

She looked down at the phone she still clutched in her hand and sighed. ‘Minutes ago.’

Betrayal ripped through her again at the thought of what Emma and Carlo had done, but she knew Emma would never have done it alone—never.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she whispered, more to herself than Santos.

‘They married on Saturday.’

He stood up and looked down on her, his height making her feel small, his words like hailstones raining down on her. Another rumble of thunder followed, echoing his anger.

‘Saturday?’ She blinked back tears as she thought of Emma getting married whilst she’d been flying out to Spain. Then it hit her. ‘That means Carlo married first.’

He nodded, folding his arms across his chest once more.

‘So our marriage was for nothing. Carlo inherits the business and I miss the biggest day of my sister’s life.’ She wanted to jump up, to stand and face him, but her knees were too weak so she just buried her face in her hands.

What was she going to do now? Santos probably thought she’d conspired with them to outsmart him. There was only one thing she could do. Go home. Get far away from Santos.

‘I’ll go and pack,’ she said, finally finding the strength to stand as another rumble filled the room, this time sounding as if it was finally receding.

‘No.’

Santos grabbed her arm as she made to leave and she looked up into his face. A small part of her wanted to see the gentleness she’d seen on their wedding night. She wanted to feel as special as he’d made her feel that night. But instead his eyes were brittle with hardness.

‘You are my wife. You will stay here.’

She shook her head. ‘No, Santos, I can’t. Their marriage changes everything.’

‘Your scheming, meaning that Carlo married first, has changed nothing. We are still married.’

He held her arm tight, pulling her against his body. She could feel the heat of it and, despite the anger and tension in the air, her body responded traitorously to his.

‘It’s all about the business for you, isn’t it?’ Accusation rang in her voice as she lifted her chin, finding her defiant streak once more, denying the burning need that raged inside her. ‘You can’t bear it that you’ve lost it.’

He shook his head and his voice was hard. ‘I haven’t lost it. Not yet. And we will remain married.’

‘Why?’ Her breath was heaving in her chest.

His eyes darkened, the brittleness of earlier replaced with hot desire.

‘Because of this.’

Before she could question him further his mouth claimed hers in a hot, searing kiss. She gasped in a mixture of annoyance and pleasure as his hand cupped her breast, making her arch against him, only being held upright by the firm grasp of his hand on her arm. She had no escape. Neither did she want an escape. She wanted his touch, his kiss. Damn it, she wanted him. She wanted him because she loved him—and that was exactly why she had to go.

She could hardly think straight, let alone put coherent words together, as he broke the kiss and looked down at her.

‘This undeniable attraction that exists between us. We can’t fight it for ever.’

‘No,’ she managed in a croaky voice. ‘But it can’t last for ever.’

He shrugged, relinquishing his grip on her arm to hold her hand instead. ‘True, but we can explore it while it lasts.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’ Indignation at his knowing glance leapt through her.

‘Because we are man and wife,’ he said in a smooth tone that rippled over her heightened senses like velvet. ‘Truly man and wife.’

She shook her head. ‘Not really, we aren’t. It was just a deal. Just a marriage of convenience.’

‘Was our wedding night on the yacht just part of the deal?’

His self-satisfied smile made her blush at the memory of just how abandoned she’d been. He kissed her—a brief but intense one.

‘I thought not.’

‘No, Santos.’ She pushed at his chest, needing space to think. ‘This isn’t what I wanted. Neither of us did. And now Emma and Carlo have married there is no need for us to be together.’

‘That’s where you are wrong, because Carlo hasn’t yet inherited the business.’

‘Of course he has. He’s married—before you.’ She almost froze with shock. Some of his earlier words were now making sense, like his accusation of her acting. He’d been playing with her.

‘Yes, they are married.’ The smile didn’t reach his eyes this time. ‘But, querida, that doesn’t change anything.’

‘What do you mean?’ Confused, she stopped pushing him away. She didn’t understand. Emma and Carlo had got married before she and Santos had even arrived in Spain, making Carlo the first son to marry. ‘Why doesn’t it change anything?’

* * *

Santos struggled with his conscience. Her act of being the wounded party was very convincing, just as her act of fear of the storm had been, but he didn’t believe she’d known nothing of their plans. Why else would she have asked so seductively to stay on the yacht longer, or even agreed to leave London with him, if not to make it as difficult as possible for him to contact the outside world? She’d practically thrown herself at him, used all that a woman could to snare his interest and keep him from going back to the villa. She’d made him want her, teased and dallied with his desire since that first kiss at the party, and there was only one reason as far as he was concerned.

She’d planned it all along.

True, she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. He’d have to be blind and stupid not to see how her body responded to his slightest touch. And each time he’d kissed her the attraction between them had intensified, until they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

She’d deceived him, duped him, like all females did, with her body. And just like his father he’d ignored everything to be with her, to make her his. He’d been like a man possessed, unable to think of anything else other than Georgina. Thoughts of her had been all-consuming. He enjoyed being with women, but never had he been so completely under a woman’s spell.

Even now, when her kisses tasted of deceit, he wanted her. Passion burned in her eyes as she stood and glared at him. How dared she look so wounded? There could only be one winner in this game of passion and deceit she’d started. And that would be him.

‘It isn’t the first son to marry who inherits.’ The words slipped out effortlessly. Finally he’d got her attention. ‘But the first married son to produce an heir.’

He watched as his words slowly filtered through, like water permeating through limestone, until finally the expression on her face told him she understood the full implications.

She shook her head, backing away from him as if he was evil itself, her beautiful face ashen white, her eyes wide with disbelief. Oh, but she was a good actress. He almost believed it. Almost.

CHAPTER TEN

THE FIRST MARRIED SON to produce an heir.

No, she screamed in her head, whilst outwardly the shutters came down, cocooning her behind a safe barrier.

‘How long have you known this?’ How could he stand there so calmly and tell her that? He might as well say her whole plan had been a waste of time. He’d lied all this time, but she couldn’t see a trace of remorse.

‘Long enough.’

His words sent a shiver down her spine.

‘So what were you hoping for? A honeymoon baby?’ She wanted to close her eyes against the pain of shattered dreams as they splintered around her. For just one night she’d thought she could sample that dream. She hadn’t expected her attraction for him to turn into something deeper. Now it was spoilt by his admissions. His deceit. ‘No wonder you were so—what was it?—unusually relaxed about contraception.’

‘That’s absurd.’

His eyes looked dark and hostile but she stood tall, remaining as defiant as she could manage.

A ray of sunlight speared the gloom and she glanced out at the clearing sky, glad that at least one storm was over.

‘Not absurd, Santos.’ She looked directly at him, something akin to anger and disappointment flitting through her. ‘Not when you consider the clause of the will and that you knew Carlo wanted to get married. He loves my sister. Just by marrying he was a threat to you—because not only would he be the first married son, but probably the first married son to have the required heir.’

It was like a puzzle, and finally she was putting it together. She still had a few pieces to find, but it was all beginning to make sense now.

‘Why are you so against Carlo?’ She felt frustrated by those missing pieces. ‘When you could have married any one of the women you’ve dated in the past and inherited everything you believe is yours.’

She watched as he paced the room—long, lean strides that drew her attention. As if needing escape, he opened the doors to the terrace and strode out. The fresh smell of dampness after the rain rushed into the room as he left. For a moment she stood and watched him, saw his pain, his frustration, with every move he made, and something deep inside her tugged at her emotions.

She knew that kind of pain, that kind of emptiness.

She walked to the door. Santos stood looking out to sea, his broad shoulders tense and the muscles in his arms taut as he leant on the balustrade. She longed to go to him, to touch him and soothe his pain. But sense prevailed. This was all of his making. She couldn’t let him know how she felt—not when he’d used everyone as pawns in his power game.

It rushed at her so hard she almost stumbled. All her breath momentarily left her body and her heart raced like a wild horse fleeing captivity.

It couldn’t be true—it just couldn’t.

She loved him. Completely and utterly.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips to stifle a cry of distress. She didn’t want to love anyone. She couldn’t love anyone. And certainly not Santos Ramirez. Since the day her father had turned his back on them she’d watched her mother take a path of self-destruction. Her parents’ actions proved beyond doubt that love was all-consuming, but also that it hurt, left you alone and killed all joy in life when it went wrong. It was a gamble she’d never wanted to take, so how had it happened? How had she fallen in love with Santos?

‘I’m not against Carlo.’

His harsh words dragged her mind back from the pain of her past.

‘Just the marriage.’

She sensed his vulnerability as he remained with his back to her, looking out to sea, at the sky clearing and brightening after the storm. Knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself, she crossed the terrace and stood by him, her shoulder almost touching his arm as she stood surveying the view.

‘Why did your father put such a clause in his will, forcing you to marry?’ This was something that had niggled at her since Emma had first mentioned it. She’d imagined two young boys vying for their father’s attention. A man who didn’t deserve any from either of them as far as she was concerned.

‘It’s a family business, started by my grandfather—my mother’s father. I suppose he assumed that as I was older by nine years I’d marry and have a family a long time before Carlo did.’

He sounded resigned and it tugged at her heart to hear him, almost as if he was admitting defeat.

‘He must have thought he was being fair to us both, putting that clause in his will.’

‘So why didn’t you marry?’ The question just had to be asked. He’d never been short of female company. She’d very quickly learnt that.

He turned to face her and she held her breath as he looked down at her. His eyes searched her face as if looking for answers to questions he didn’t even know. She watched as his face set into hard lines, shutting her out.

‘To avoid the mess we are in now.’ The angry words all but barked out at her.

She shivered despite the sun. ‘It’s easy to sort out.’ Her words were curt as she lifted her chin in defiance and challenge, the softer emotions quashed by his frozen expression. ‘I leave and you file for divorce.’

In one swift stride he came towards her, his hand holding her arm firmly. ‘You are not going anywhere unless I do—and as for a divorce...’

He spoke with a voice so stern and disapproving she blinked in shock.

‘There will not be a divorce. Your meddling has made sure of that.’

‘But—’ she began, wondering what she wanted to try and tell him, even what she didn’t. ‘There isn’t any reason to remain married—not now.’

‘You are forgetting, mi esposa, that an heir may yet still be needed.’ He let go of her, keeping her where she stood with just the fixed glare of his dark eyes.

‘No,’ she snapped, and backed away from him, bumping against the chair she’d sat in to call her sister earlier. ‘Even you’re not so cold and callous that you’d bring a child into the world just to inherit a business.’

‘I had hoped not even to marry to inherit. When you so kindly offered yourself I believed it would be enough, that I could find a way out of the clause long before Carlo married. But your meddling has changed everything.’

His eyes glittered furiously at her but she held her ground, squared her shoulders and met his accusation head on.

Her meddling? ‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play the innocent with me.’

His eyes glittered dangerously but she refused to be intimidated, refused to back down.

‘Not when you’ve led me on, driven me wild with need for you since the night of the party.’

‘I did not lead you on.’ Indignation flared to life in her and she almost stamped her foot in frustration.

* * *

Santos knew he was losing his patience, reaching the boiling point that very few people managed to push him to. All he wanted was to prevent her from leaving. He needed her, yes, but he wanted her more.

‘So what was our wedding night if not to divert my attention and keep me out of the way?’

She gasped at him, a blush creeping over her cheeks, and she looked as if she was struggling for words.

‘You must have been delighted when I took you to the yacht. What better place to keep me out of the way?’ Humiliation burned through him like a forest fire. He’d been used, played for a fool, and it wounded him even more to think that he’d relaxed. He’d wanted to open up to her, wanted to be who he really was, when all along she’d been as fake as snow in the desert. ‘You flirted yourself at me in an attempt to stay longer on the yacht.’

Her brow furrowed and pain and confusion swirled in her eyes. For a moment he wanted to reach for her, wanted to kiss it all away. But kissing had got him into this mess. Kissing and much more had left him emotionally exposed and vulnerable.

‘If that’s what you think, Santos, it would be much better if you just let me go home. Alone.’ Her words were firm and devoid of any emotion.

‘That,’ he snapped, instantly reining himself back, ‘is not negotiable. You will stay here with me now I know where Carlo and Emma are.’

‘Where they are?’ She spoke rapidly, shock sounding in her tone. ‘You mean they’re not in London?’

Was it possible he’d got it all wrong? That she’d known nothing of their marriage plans?

He moved away from her—away from the intensity of her eyes and the questions deep within them. Maybe sending her back to London alone would be for the best, enable him to think clearly. Because his need for her had increased since they’d spent the night together and each time she came close his body remembered, even if his mind refused to acknowledge what he was beginning to feel for her.

‘Perhaps you can tell me.’ He tossed the words across the terrace as he made his way back inside the villa. ‘You can explain everything to me on our way out this evening.’

‘There’s only one place I’m going this evening and that’s the airport—with or without your help.’ He knew she had followed him inside. He could feel her, sense her.

He sat down on the sofa, stretching his arm along the back of the black leather, and watched as she stood, fury blazing from her, in the centre of the room. A smile twitched the corners of his lips despite the bitter taste of humiliation. She looked stunningly sexy, a little fireball of passion.

‘Tonight we are expected at a party my cousin has arranged for us and I have no intention of arriving without my bride.’

‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Santos, but your bride is leaving. Right now.’

He clenched his jaw as his mind raced. ‘You can’t. You signed the agreement. You have legally agreed to live as my wife for twelve months.’

Her eyes widened in shock. ‘I don’t believe you actually put that in. You’re barbaric.’

‘I need an heir, Georgina.’

Right there in front of him she seemed to deflate. All the fire and fury drained from her and he sat forward, his elbows on his knees. Was she actually going to faint?

‘I can’t give you what you want.’

The anguish in her voice alarmed him and he leapt up and stood before her.

‘I can’t have a baby—I can’t.’

Can’t have a baby.

He hadn’t considered this. He’d assumed that, like almost every woman, she’d want to become a mother.

‘Why not?’

This threw everything into turmoil. If Carlo and Emma returned from Vegas as parents-to-be he would have lost everything—exactly what he’d promised his mother he’d never do the last time he saw her. Although he still didn’t know what kind of misguided loyalty made him want to keep that promise.

Large tears welled up in Georgina’s eyes. One broke free and ran down her cheek. Santos didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t considered the possibility that she couldn’t have children. She’d been so adamant that she’d do anything to enable her sister to marry. He’d seen her as a viable back-up plan—a marriage of convenience to a woman who would be the mother of his child, should that drastic step be needed.

‘I can’t...I just can’t,’ she croaked in a whisper, tugging at something deep inside him so much that he wanted to hold her close, to soothe her.

Instead he clenched his hands into fists and marched away from her. ‘This changes nothing. You are my wife. You agreed to it for one year and I’m not going to allow you to publicly humiliate me any further. I don’t need my wife deserting me within days of our supposed whirlwind romance. It’s bad enough that Carlo and Emma have run off to Vegas...’

‘Vegas?’ Incredulity made her tear-laden eyes widen and he steeled himself against the need to hold her.

‘As if you didn’t know.’

Attack was the only way he could control the myriad of strange new emotions running riot inside him. He wanted her with him, yet he didn’t. Above all he wanted to punish her for her part in deceiving him, but even he wasn’t so callous that in the face of what she’d just told him he’d actually do that.

* * *

Vegas. Emma had gone to Las Vegas to get married.

‘I didn’t know,’ Georgina whispered, betrayal rushing through her.

They must have planned it for weeks. Why hadn’t Emma said something? Taken her into her confidence?

He took her hand, his mood softened. ‘It seems we are both victims of their deception.’

His deep voice sent shivers of awareness down her spine, but she remained firm and resolute, not trusting him.

‘Have you spoken to Carlo?’ She pulled back, watching his face as she asked the question.

‘No, but the gossip columns are full of it. When we left for Spain they must have gone straight to Vegas. They must have left as soon as we’d left the party. Damn it, they knew all along.’

He let go of her as his frustration built again and she felt strangely alone. The touch of his hand had been grounding, somehow. He blamed her for what Emma and Carlo had done, that much was obvious, yet still she wanted his comfort, wanted to feel his arms around her.

If she was going to survive the next few days she had to push her emotions right to the back of her mind—had to ignore them before they exposed her to the biggest pain of all. One thing she was sure of: she couldn’t remain his wife for a year—not if it meant living with him.

Twice in her life she had trusted and loved a man and twice he had let her down. Her father, whom she’d adored, had walked away one stormy night without a backward glance, leaving her in tears, clinging to the front door. Then Richard, whom she’d loved in a gentle, appreciative way, had left her alone in the world—more alone than she cared to admit.

Now Santos.

She’d fallen in love with him so passionately and deeply she couldn’t even think properly any more. Her usual unemotional demeanour was smashed into icy crumbs.

‘Emma would never have done it if she’d thought it would end like this.’ She tried to think back to all they’d spoken off when they’d been getting ready for the party Santos had thrown. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘She just wouldn’t.’

‘It would seem your sister isn’t as loyal to you as you are to her.’ Santos’s voice was hard as he paced the room. ‘Whatever possessed them to run off and get married?’

‘Love,’ Georgina whispered.

Santos rounded on her. ‘Love is for fools. It destroys lives.’

‘How can you say that?’ Her frustration matched his fury and she glared at him, daring him to answer. ‘You must have loved once.’

An echo of a previous conversation filled her mind.

He closed the distance between them in long strides, dominating the room with his volatile mood. ‘Your father walked out on you, no?’ His accent was stronger than ever as he battled with his emotions.

Her breath caught in her throat as he brought up her past, made the memories of that night—already too fresh after the storm—rush back. ‘My father has nothing to do with it.’

‘If he’d loved you he wouldn’t have left. That’s what you think, no?’

His eyes locked with hers, holding her prisoner, forcing her to face things she didn’t want to face.

Before she could answer his harsh words came at her again, as if he no longer cared what he was saying. ‘It’s the same for me. Love will never be a part of how I think of my mother, or she of me.’ He whirled around and marched back outside, as if needing more space to vent his anger.

Cautiously she followed him outside. ‘What happened with your mother?’ Her words were a whisper as she watched him drag in a deep breath.

He turned to look at her once more, his face set in firm lines.

‘I was a mistake.’ He swallowed as if the words tasted bitter and her heart tugged for him. ‘A mistake that forced her to marry my father. A mistake she always made me pay for.’

‘But your father loved her, didn’t he?’ She scanned her mind for the little snippets of his life he’d told her about, trying to piece things together.

‘And that love was rewarded with my being ignored as a young boy.’ Pain resounded in his voice and he sighed and turned to look out to sea.

He was turning his back not only on her but on the conversation. It was what he always did, she realised. Right from that first time in his office when he’d looked out over London. It seemed a lifetime ago instead of less than a week.

‘But your father moved on and you have a brother now.’

She heard him inhale deeply, saw his shoulders lift and then fall. She’d said the wrong thing again.

‘Half-brother.’ The words were grated out, and still he kept his back resolutely turned. ‘One who has just proved how little he thinks of me. Just as always, he’s got what he wants.’

Georgina thought again of all Emma had told her about Carlo. ‘I’m sure it’s not like that. In fact I’d go as far as to say he doesn’t want to inherit the business. He wants to do his own thing, make his own way in life.’

Santos turned round to face her, questions in his dark eyes. ‘You’re wrong. How could any man not want to inherit his father’s business?’

‘Not everyone is as motivated by power as you are, Santos. Carlo and Emma just want to make a life together—a normal life.’ Without thinking she reached out and touched his arm, her fingers heating as they felt the firmness of his muscles.

‘What is that, Georgina?’ He sounded drained and tired.

‘They want to be together. They’re in love, Santos. Is that so hard to accept?’ She moved closer to him, trying to quash the surge of love she felt for him as he opened up and let her see his pain.

He looked down into her eyes, his darkening. She thought he might kiss her as he moved closer, with his head dropping lower. But then he stopped, the abruptness of it sending a chill through her.

‘No, Georgina, no.’ He moved away from her and for the first time ever he looked at a loss for what to say.

This powerful all-controlling man that she’d fallen in love with couldn’t and wouldn’t accept that love even existed. If that didn’t staunch the love that was rapidly growing for him, then nothing would.

‘No to what, Santos? Can’t you just accept that they love one another and there aren’t any ulterior motives at work?’

He changed as he stepped away, as if the distance was enabling him to regain his power, his authority. ‘You engineered this whole thing—encouraged them to fly off to Vegas, kept me busy in the way only a woman of your reputation can, and secured a big financial settlement for yourself along the way.’

Hurt raced through her, stinging like a thousand bees. ‘You can keep your money, tear up the agreement—anything.’ She rounded on him, angry at herself for feeling for him, for wanting to reach out to him, for wanting to love him. ‘I don’t even know why you haven’t just bought Carlo out. It would have been much less complicated than getting married.’

‘Don’t insult my business management. You know nothing about it—about the way Carlo has refused my generous offer, not once but twice, holding out for the ultimate prize.’

His voice was fierce but she didn’t pay any heed to it at all. Her emotions were running so high she no longer cared what happened.

‘No, I don’t know anything about it. All I know is that I should never have got involved.’ She hissed the words at him as his dark eyes accused her. ‘I should have just helped them get married.’

‘You did.’

‘No!’ Exasperation made her voice sharp.

He really believed she’d done this for money, for her own gain as well as Emma’s. Enraged beyond comprehension, she marched to his study. Her thoughts were beyond rational as she barged into the room, and when she saw the file holding their agreement on his desk she picked it up.

Santos entered the study just as she took hold of the agreement they’d both signed such a short time ago, his face as dark as the thunderclouds had been earlier. She looked at him, smiled sarcastically. Challenging him. Then she tore up the agreement into as many tiny pieces as her shaking hands could manage.

‘You can do what you like, mi esposa, but you will still be my wife.’

‘I’m leaving, Santos, as your wife or not. I don’t care, but I’m going back to London.’

She pushed past him and almost ran to her room. Without pausing she grabbed her handbag, checked for her passport and spun on her heel, not wanting anything from him.

She’d get a taxi to the airport and sit there all night if she had to, but one thing was for sure: she’d be on the next flight back to London. With that plan of action in mind she headed for the front door of the villa, glad Santos was nowhere to be seen.

Anger and frustration still raced in her veins as she pulled open the heavy ornate door—but Santos stood there, hands folded across his powerful body.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘I HAVE TO GO, SANTOS,’ she fired at him, her heart thudding so loudly she thought he might hear it. ‘We should never have married. I was stupid to think it could work.’

‘Stupid to try and deceive me—that’s what you mean, is it not, querida?’ His words were slow and very deliberate.

The setting sun cast an orange glow around him as he stood firm and resolute before her. Despite the pain in her heart, her body responded to the image of him—the man she loved. The man she must never think of again once she’d got back to London. Perhaps she’d move away, get a small place in the country, live simply and quietly. Anything not to have to see him again.

‘I’m not even going to deny it.’ Her temper flared. ‘You’re determined to think the worst so you can go ahead and do it, just like you have with your brother and his mother. Even your father.’

He inhaled deeply, his handsome face becoming sharper than she’d ever seen. His eyes hardened until they resembled polished obsidian, with glittering hints of the lava that formed it hidden in their depths.

‘Get in the car, Georgina.’ His tone brooked no rebuke and she stiffened at the challenge. There was no way she was going to let him stop her. She had to get away—as far away as possible.

‘No,’ she said vehemently, and tried to move past him, but his reactions were fast and he instantly blocked her, his dominating body filling the doorway.

‘I’m going to the airport.’

‘Then I shall take you.’ His tone was as overpowering as his body.

She looked from his face to the car behind him and noticed for the first time that the passenger door was open and the engine running. Her heart raced at the thought of being with him for just a little while longer, because despite everything that was where she wanted to be. But he would never want her as his wife now—not when he believed her capable of such deception. A deception she was innocent of.

‘Why?’ She couldn’t help herself asking, as if in just a few seconds he would have changed his mind about her.

‘You are my wife, and as such I will drive you to the airport.’

He left her in no doubt that there wouldn’t be any further discussion on the subject and she dropped down into the low sports car, nerves taking flight in her stomach as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

She glanced across at him as the air inside the car filled with his raw masculine scent—one that would haunt her for ever—only to find he was looking at her. Furiously she glared at him, then looked away. She wasn’t going to be a victim of his charm this time. The sooner she got to the airport the better.

The drive along the busy roads was fast and painfully silent. Each time she looked at him his stern profile hinted at the anger he held in check. Each passing second became tenser than the last, the air more laden and heavy, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the airport came into view.

He passed the entrance and she panicked. ‘Where are we going?’

‘My plane is waiting on the Tarmac.’

‘You don’t need to do that. I’ll book on the next flight.’ She tried hard to keep her desperation from him, but it wasn’t just him she was annoyed with. She’d almost hoped he was coming to London too and that he did want her.

‘We shall be in London by midnight.’

‘We?’ She silently cursed that last thought—that last futile wish.

‘Did you really think you could walk out so easily?’ He turned to look at her briefly as he manoeuvred the car into the airport and headed for the plane. Within seconds of them stopping he was out of the car and at her door, and once their passports were checked he took her hand and led her up the steps of the plane.

The door closed and a strange stillness settled inside the cabin. Santos sat in one of the white leather chairs, his long legs stretched out before him, looking relaxed, but she knew from the tension in his face he was anything but.

Georgina resigned herself to the situation and sat down, fixing her attention on the darkening skyline rather than look at the man who’d turned everything in her life upside down, including her heart. She consoled herself with the fact that at least she was going back to London. Once there she could so much more easily walk away from Santos. But that thought didn’t make her feel as she’d wanted it to. It made her heart ache. Pain lanced through it, shattering it into pieces. But she couldn’t let him know.

* * *

If Santos had thought the flight to London was tense, then the drive through London’s streets was worse. Georgina sat at his side, irresistibly close, yet undeniably far from him. He knew she was trapped in her deceit. The evidence was stacked against her. She’d deceived him, tricked him into marrying her so her sister and his brother could take all he’d worked so hard for over recent years. This time Georgina’s gamble wasn’t going to pay off.

‘I can’t stay here.’

Georgina’s words drew him up sharp. She’d realised where they were. The storm, it seemed, raged on.

‘Take me back to my own apartment, please.’

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head once as she looked across at him, her face partially lit by street lamps.

‘Santos, please, don’t prolong the agony.’

The anguish in her voice was so acute it was almost physical. But what did she mean, agony? Had their time together been so awful?

‘Agony? What agony?’ he snapped at her recklessly, instantly furious with himself for allowing her to see even a moment’s loss of control.

She looked taken aback, as if she hadn’t meant to say those words. ‘Just admit it’s time we went our separate ways, Santos. Things haven’t worked out.’ She hesitated for a moment as the car pulled up outside his apartment. ‘We’ve both been deceived—let’s leave it at that.’ She sounded tired, as if struggling with defeat.

‘You are my wife, Georgina, and as such I want you with me when Carlo and Emma return. I want us to present a united front.’ He couldn’t admit it yet—not even to himself—but he seemed to be clutching at every possible reason for her to stay, as if he didn’t want her to go.

The chauffeur opened the car door and he stepped out into the cold autumn night. Light rain had fallen and the small amount of traffic that passed swished by on the wet road. He walked round to the other side of the car and opened Georgina’s door, marvelling at how suddenly she seemed at ease. Was he even now falling into line with one of her devious plans?

She stepped out onto the pavement and looked at him. ‘I don’t see why we should keep up the pretence any longer.’

‘No?’ He walked towards the entrance doors, glancing back and hoping she would follow. He wasn’t in the mood for any more in-depth discussions. ‘Do you not want to continue until Emma comes back? It would be better if she thought you were happy, would it not?’

He watched as her expression changed from defiance to realisation that he spoke the truth. He certainly didn’t want Carlo to think he’d married Georgina in a bid to secure the business; it was an ongoing issue between them. One that now threatened everything he’d ever cared about.

‘You’re right.’ She sighed and smiled sweetly at him—a little too sweetly, convincing him that even now she played the game, using him as she had from the very beginning. ‘It wouldn’t do if they found out what we’d done—for reasons other than love, of course.’

Opening the door, he walked towards the lift, pressed the button and turned to her. Did she have to keep brandishing that word about? As if it was the very centre of everything that had happened?

Irritated, he looked above the lift doors, anxious to see if it was coming. ‘It will be for the best,’ he said tersely.

‘That’s debatable,’ she tossed at him as the lift doors opened and she walked in. ‘I’ve yet to decide just who it will be best for, but tonight, at least, I’m prepared to stay here.’

He didn’t know what to say to that—his usual quick thinking had totally deserted him—so he remained silent as the lift took them up to his apartment, acutely aware of her so very close to him. He could smell her sweet floral scent and clenched his hands into fists in a bid to stamp out the threatening fire.

* * *

Santos unlocked the door and Georgina couldn’t believe she was back at his apartment. Everything she’d planned had gone wrong and, worse, had been for nothing. She’d told Santos she could have just encouraged Emma and Carlo to run off and get married and now she wished she had. At least then she wouldn’t have tasted something she could never have. She wouldn’t have fallen in love with a man who openly admitted he wasn’t capable of love in any form.

She sighed wearily. The last few days had been emotionally challenging for all the wrong reasons and she just wanted to be on her own.

‘It’s late,’ she said softly as he flicked on the lights in the kitchen. ‘I’m going straight to bed.’

She looked across at him, wanting to add that she was going alone, that she would spend the night in the same room she’d occupied before, but something in his expression held her back. Her heart began to race as the intensity of his gaze rested on her, as if he too couldn’t bring himself to suggest she sleep alone.

He walked towards her, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor, and like an animal caught in car headlights she just stood there and watched, mesmerised by him. Nerves made her bite gently on her bottom lip as he stopped in front of her, so close and yet so far.

‘Where are you going to sleep, mi esposa? With your husband or alone?’

His accent had become more defined, sending shivers of awareness all over her. When his gaze rested on her lips she stopped biting them and smiled, almost tasting the saccharine of it.

‘Alone.’

With you, her mind screamed as that one word left her lips. She wanted to sleep beside the man she loved, feel the warmth of his body next to her. But she reminded herself the man she loved didn’t really exist. That man had been pretence and nothing more. This was the real Santos.

‘Then I shall say buenas noches, mi esposa.’

He moved closer. Instinct told her he was going to kiss her, and heaven help her she wanted him to, but if he did...

She stepped back. ‘Goodnight, Santos,’ she said as firmly as possible, before retreating to the safety of the room she’d previously occupied.

* * *

Santos watched her go, confusion racing through him. Why was he trying to prevent her from leaving? Just what kind of power did she have over him? Perhaps it was better if they slept alone—although his body protested at the idea. He knew he needed time to think. He had to be sure of what to do next and at the moment he hadn’t a clue.

With an exasperated sigh he tousled his hair and turned on his heel. Strong coffee was what he needed. And work. Going to an empty bed when Georgina slept in the next room was not going to be an option. Neither was going to her and trying to explain—to himself as well as her—why he didn’t want her to go.

The aroma of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and the taste of it invigorated his senses as he headed for his study. He had reports to catch up on and an aching need to deny.

A neatly stacked pile of post almost made him groan aloud. He wasn’t in the mood. But as he sat at his desk the postmark on one letter caught his attention. A solicitor’s name glared out at him from the large white envelope. Anxiously he tore it open, but was totally unprepared for what he saw.

So unprepared he had to read it again.

Carlo had renounced all claims to his father’s estate in deference to him. Santos closed his eyes in relief, but that was short-lived as the implications of the letter hit home. What would this mean for him and Georgina?

He tried to get Carlo on his mobile, but it went straight to voicemail. Annoyed, he hung up. He wasn’t about to leave a message. Instead he tried to focus on his work, but all sorts of jumbled thoughts raced through his mind. He’d never felt this disorientated or distracted before.

After several hours he gave up on trying to work or contacting Carlo. He picked up the letter again and headed for the kitchen, unable even to consider trying to sleep. More coffee was required. As it brewed he read the letter again, trying to understand why his brother had felt the need to do this when he’d offered to buy him out several times. What point was he making?

Exasperated, he tossed it on the kitchen table and walked over to the windows. The faint light of dawn crept across the sky, and with it he hoped would come answers and solutions.

* * *

It was still very early, but Georgina knew that Santos was likely to be up and about, so she quickly scanned the living room, relieved to see it empty, and headed for the kitchen. She flicked on the kettle and searched for a mug, needing as much caffeine as she could get after her sleepless night. She noticed the partly drunk cups of cold coffee—evidence that either Santos had been entertaining or he too had had a bad night.

The coffee’s aroma revived her and she leant back against one of the kitchen units to sip her drink, wrapping her hands comfortingly around her mug. It was then that she noticed the letter. It looked official, and at first she turned the other way, but as she did so a name caught her attention.

She looked more closely and nearly gasped at what she saw. The letter very clearly stated that Carlo had renounced his claim on his father’s estate.

Guilt rushed through her for even thinking of looking at Santos’s mail, but that was hotly followed by anger and disappointment. This letter changed everything. Santos would inherit his father’s business without the need for a wife—or an heir. He didn’t need her any more. So why was he tormenting her like this? Insisting she stay with him? To punish her?

She should feel relieved. At least she could walk away from him and try and piece together her life. Emma had Carlo and didn’t need her any more, so she could get that longed-for peaceful cottage in the country.

The coffee turned bitter in her mouth and she put the nearly full mug down on the side, turning her back on the letter and all it meant. She felt sick when she should be relieved that she could at last walk away from this sham of a marriage. She should be heading out of the door right now and not giving the man she’d married a second thought. But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t just walk away.

She loved him.

‘They’re back.’

Santos’s voice broke through her rambling thoughts. His hair was still damp from the shower. The last time she’d seen his hair wet they had just shared the most amazing moment in the shower. Did he remember that? She looked at him, as immaculate as ever in his designer suit, and found it hard to believe he would.

‘Are they all right?’ She pushed aside her memories and worries as she watched him walk past her into the kitchen. She was mesmerised by him, by the powerful aura he exuded, and found all she could do was watch as he organised fresh coffee.

‘Of course they are. We’ll have dinner with them tonight. Sort everything out.’

He sounded cheerful, not at all weighed down by the problems of the last few days. That letter had obviously made everything right for him, but when was he going to tell her? Then it hit her. How long had he known?

‘No.’

The word rang out in the kitchen and he stopped and looked at her, a frown creasing his brow.

‘I can’t.’

‘Don’t you want to see Emma? I thought it would be what you wanted?’ He looked puzzled. He flicked the switch on the coffee machine and walked over to her. ‘What’s the matter, Georgina?’

The concern that should have been in such words was missing, replaced by suspicion.

She bit down hard on her tongue. She wanted to tell him she knew about the letter, wanted to demand to know when he’d known about it. But as she looked up into his face, searched his eyes, all she could do was shake her head.

He reached out to her, holding her arms loosely, and looked at her. ‘What’s wrong?’ And this time he did sound concerned—but not for her, surely?

Wrong? Everything was wrong. And suddenly she knew she couldn’t walk away from him without telling him why.

‘You wouldn’t understand.’ She dropped her gaze, not able to bear his scrutiny any longer. And if he turned on the charm she’d never resist, never be able to explain anything.

‘I could try.’ His voice wasn’t as firm as usual, and a waver of doubt lingered in it.

‘No, Santos, you couldn’t. You don’t do love. You don’t know how it feels to love someone so much you’d do anything for them, only to find they’ve deceived you.’ The floodgates had opened and the words tumbled out as she looked up at him again, her eyes begging him to understand.

He let go of her arms and stepped back a pace, his tall, athletic body dominating her, as big a hurdle for her to overcome as the shock of seeing the letter.

‘Don’t do this to yourself, Georgina.’

‘What do you want me to do? Shut myself away from love just like you have?’

He stood, immovable and silent as she waited for him to say something. Finally he spoke. ‘You’re right. I don’t understand.’

She closed her eyes for a second against the pain of his admission, then opened them and looked at him, injecting as much firmness into her voice as possible. ‘There’s no reason for us to be together any more, Santos.’ She hesitated as she saw the firm set of his shoulders. ‘I’m going home.’

‘Leaving, you mean?’

She watched his jaw clench as he stood, all but blocking her way out of the room.

‘Yes, leaving.’ She walked past him into the living area, her arm brushing his as she did so. The shock of that contact made her take in a sharp breath.

* * *

Santos clenched his hands into tight fists and bit down hard. He wanted to tell her to stay, but he didn’t know how to—let alone why. Was it because not only was she the first woman who hadn’t succumbed to his charm immediately, but the first woman to walk out on him?

But she wasn’t the first woman to walk out on him. His mother had done the same. He’d stood and watched her leave, not understanding why. He’d felt helpless then too.

‘Georgina.’

Her name snapped from his lips and for a moment he wondered if he’d actually spoken, then he heard her footsteps stop. Ominous silence filled the apartment.

He took in a deep breath and left the kitchen. She stood by the front door. Last time she’d tried to walk out on him he’d gone with her, but this time he couldn’t. This time all he could do was watch her go. He couldn’t risk opening his heart to her.

She raised her brows at him in question. She wouldn’t even speak to him. Should he ask her to stay? Tell her he wanted to understand? That somewhere deep inside he was beginning to understand that elusive emotion love?

But still he couldn’t.

‘My solicitor will contact you with regard to the divorce.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

GEORGINA HELD THE LETTER in shaking hands. Santos hadn’t wasted any time. He must have instructed his solicitor to file for divorce the moment she’d left his apartment. But what had she expected? That he would miss her? Come after her and declare his undying love?

He’d admitted that he didn’t understand. They’d been almost his last words to her that morning.

Well, if he thought she’d hide away and meekly sign the papers then he had another thought coming. She would show him she could be as strong as he was. She would go down fighting. Fighting for the love she couldn’t deny herself but had to.

With that in mind she tapped in to the same fiery determination that had given her the courage to march into his office and suggest they marry in the first place.

She put on her charcoal suit, her high heels and applied make-up. Then she pulled out her rarely used briefcase, put the letter inside and left, slamming the front door behind her. The few persistent photographers waiting intently outside her flat almost fazed her—they’d been camping out since the details of their marriage had hit the headlines, desperate for a story—but she passed through them, refusing to answer their questions or make a comment, quickly hailing a taxi.

By the time the taxi pulled up outside the Ramirez International offices it had started to rain, but she refused to rush in, head down against the rain. With her head held high she walked determinedly in, hardly giving the rain a second thought. Alone inside the lift she had time to check her appearance. It was vital she looked as sleek and sophisticated as possible. He must never know how devastated she was by the last two weeks, how little sleep she’d had recently.

She smoothed her hands down her skirt, took a deep breath and walked proudly out of the lift as soon as the doors opened. His secretary looked up as she pushed open the heavy glass door, but Georgina wasn’t about to stop and ask permission to see her husband. He was going to listen to what she had say whether he liked it or not.

‘Excuse me, Miss...’ the shocked woman said as she made her way straight towards Santos’s office.

Georgina stopped and turned to face her. ‘It’s Mrs,’ she said firmly. ‘Mrs Ramirez. And I’m here to see my husband.’

With that she turned and walked down the wide corridor that led to his office. Nothing was going to stop her now.

She paused briefly outside the door, her hand poised above the handle. Last time she’d stood there full of nerves, hardly able to believe she was about to propose to a man she’d never met.

Not for one minute had she thought she would find him so devastatingly attractive. And if she’d known that from the very first moment their eyes met a sizzle of desire would weave a spell so strong about them she would have turned and run, regardless of her motives.

She’d never expected to fall in love with him so quickly and so completely.

It had taken the letter instigating their divorce this morning for her to realise what she had to do—that she couldn’t run any more. She’d stood by and watched two men she’d loved in very different ways from the way she loved Santos leave her. This time she was determined it would be different. This time she wouldn’t shrink from the pain. This time she’d face it head-on.

She took a deep breath, gathered all her nerve and opened the door.

He was sitting at his desk, looking cool and composed. Her heart lurched just at seeing him, but she couldn’t let that get the better of her now.

‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

His words were as cool and clear as a mountain stream but she couldn’t falter now.

She put her briefcase on his desk, looked him in the eye and flicked it open. The dark depths of his eyes glittered as he watched every slow, purposeful movement. Taking out the letter, she placed it on the desk and then closed her briefcase.

‘Don’t play games, Santos. You know why I’m here. To put an end to our marriage.’

But not until he knew how she felt—knew she loved him. But telling someone who hated even to hear the word, let alone acknowledge the emotion, wasn’t going to be easy.

He stood up, his height as intimidating as the breadth of his shoulders, but she held his gaze, trying hard to ignore the lurching of her heart.

* * *

‘A marriage you instigated, Georgina. Here, in this very room.’

Santos moved from behind his desk and came closer to her, even now unable to resist the challenge her eyes fired at him. The first time she’d stood in his office, with fire and determination burning in her eyes, he’d wanted her.

He still wanted her. The force of the attraction hadn’t lessened after spending the night with her. It had increased.

‘One you willingly went along with. You changed it to suit your needs simply to get a business. You didn’t think I was worthy of an explanation about the heir you needed to inherit everything.’

Her angry accusation had found its mark but he wouldn’t let her see that.

‘You make it sound calculated when it wasn’t.’

He leant against the edge of his desk, folded his arms across his chest, fighting the urge to tell her everything. Then he remembered the pain in her voice when she’d told him she couldn’t have children.

‘I had no idea then that you couldn’t have children.’ His voice sounded unsteady even to him, and she closed her eyes, her long lashes shutting him out. He reached out to her, his hand touching her arm in a gesture of concern. She jumped back from him, her eyes now blazing. ‘I’m sorry.’

She remained silent, her steady gaze holding his, and he wished she’d let him close. He’d never meant to hurt her. She had made him feel things he’d never thought he would. He still found it hard to comprehend the aching void in his life, an ache born out of love. But now she hated him.

‘It’s not that I can’t have children, Santos.’

She spoke in a harsh, raw tone, her words snagging his conscience.

‘I just couldn’t bring a child into the world for that reason. I would have thought you of all people would understand that.’

His mind roared as the pain of his childhood rushed back at him. He’d been a mistake. One that had forced his mother into marriage with a man she couldn’t love. With dreadful clarity he realised Georgina was right. If he’d had to he would have resorted to fathering a child just to get the business—a child that he didn’t want. But wasn’t that why he’d never married? To avoid such a decision?

Guilt slashed at him, making his next words harsh and serrated.

‘If I could have avoided that I would have done.’

‘The same as you could have avoided all this.’ She pointed fiercely at the letter which lay on her briefcase. ‘If you’d just talked to Carlo he wouldn’t have had to go to the extremes he did. You denied Emma her big day.’ She paused for a moment, her dark eyes flecked with gold sparks of determination. ‘You should still talk to Carlo.’

Again she was right, and he gritted his teeth angrily. Talking to Carlo hadn’t been an option before, but he could put that right. With an exasperated sigh he thrust himself away from the desk and strode towards the windows. Raindrops ran down them, diluting the view of London.

‘Don’t hide from it, Santos. You used me to score points on your own brother.’

The accusation flew at him but he kept his back resolutely to her. She made him feel exposed, vulnerable. Damn it, she made him feel emotions he didn’t want—emotions he didn’t need.

He turned to face her, and despite the hardness of her expression he saw the pain on her face, felt it radiating out.

‘I was caught up in battle started by my mother. On her deathbed she made me promise never to let go of what was rightfully mine. When you so calmly offered marriage I never meant it to go any further.’

She made a sound that was a mixture of a gasp and a whimper—a sound full of pain. ‘So seducing me, getting me into your bed, was a mistake too?’

He watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest and realised she wasn’t nearly as rational as she wanted him to believe. ‘No, Georgina,’ he said as he moved towards her, his tone lower and huskier just from his memories of that night. ‘I wanted you then as much as you wanted me.’

She blushed, and it shocked him to realise how he’d missed that innocent blush.

‘I hate you for that.’

She hated him.

The venom in her voice left him in no doubt that she meant it and something changed inside him—as if somewhere a key had turned, unlocking something, some sort of emotion he wasn’t yet ready for.

‘Don’t play the wounded party with me when you already have one very convenient marriage behind you.’ Anger was the best line of defence. It would supress whatever it was she’d unlocked, because right now was not the time to analyse it.

‘Richard never forced me into his bed. He didn’t seduce me and I love him for that.’

Her words rang loud and clear in his head, as if she were at the top of a bell tower.

Santos gritted his teeth against those words. She’d loved Richard. It was as if he’d stepped back a few decades—as if he was witnessing the love his father and stepmother had shared, a love that had excluded him. But that exclusion hadn’t made him feel raw with the pain he now felt.

‘So you openly admit you married him for money?’ He maintained his angry defence—anything other than accept what the raging pain inside him might mean.

‘Yes, I did!’ She flung the words at him. ‘He asked me, he saw I needed help and offered it, but I had no idea then just how ill he was. That’s why he insisted I marry him—because he knew it was the only way to be sure he could provide for me into the future.’

He didn’t want to hear it, yet at the same time he did.

Her face softened. ‘He loved me, and for the chance he gave me I loved him.’

Santos was consumed with jealousy. He couldn’t hear anything else other than that she’d loved Richard.

* * *

Georgina watched as Santos’s face hardened. He couldn’t even stand to hear the word love—couldn’t contemplate such an emotion existed. He’d been denied it as a child and now, as an adult, he was determined to continue to deny himself.

She knew she was taunting him, using that word again, but she pressed on, hoping he’d see how she felt. ‘I loved him in a compassionate way. There wasn’t even a flicker of a spark of passion. It was a comfortable love. A safe love. Not the way I love you.’

Silence stretched between them. She remained tall and straight, even though she wanted to crumple on the floor right in front of him. The silence lengthened.

She shouldn’t have said anything—shouldn’t have opened her heart to his ridicule. Not when she knew how he scorned love. A lump gathered in her throat, almost choking her. This was no different from watching her father walk away. No different from having to say goodbye to Richard. As if her love had made them leave. She knew it wasn’t true, but the pain of it had made it feel that way.

Fear of going through that again was what drove her now. It was why she’d come here—why she was exposing herself so utterly to Santos’s contempt. If she was yet again to lose a man she loved, she was going to make her feelings clear.

‘Do you really expect me to believe that when these last weeks have been nothing but a big lie, an act for you?’ His words were sharp, heightening the tension between them.

‘It wasn’t a lie. There were times...’ She paused, feeling heat spread across her cheeks as she remembered their wedding night, the passion they’d shared. That night there hadn’t been any pretence, any acting on her part. She swallowed hard and continued. ‘There were times when it was real.’

‘Would that be the moment you kissed me at the party, or the morning you all but seduced me into staying on the yacht? Or the times when all your acting skills were called upon so that you could cover for Emma and Carlo running off to get married?’

The cynicism in his voice lashed at her like hail, each word stinging. How could he still believe she had had any part in it?

‘I had no part whatsoever in their marriage,’ she fumed at him, frustration rising like a spring tide. ‘They deceived me too, Santos.’ She stood facing him across the office, the expanse of soft cream carpet seeming to grow bigger between them with every passing second. ‘They were desperate.’

‘Back to that again, are we?’

Each word was like a bullet in her heart, each one wounding her further.

‘I can see that whatever I say won’t make any difference to you, Santos. You’re incapable of love.’

‘I made that perfectly clear from our very first meeting.’

In exasperation she covered her face with her hands briefly, dropped her head and took in a long, shuddering breath. She couldn’t take it any more, and gave vent to her frustration. ‘You’re so cold, so proud, and so damned stubborn. It was a mistake coming here.’

She pulled her jacket tighter about her body, as if it would deflect the hurt. For a moment his gaze lowered, caught by the movement. He took a step closer to her, his eyes meeting hers once more. She stepped back instinctively, needing space to be able to think.

‘So why did you come, mi esposa? Tell me. Why?’

His accent became heavy and to her dismay he moved closer still, rendering thought almost impossible.

She whirled round and grabbed the papers from his desk, knocking her briefcase to the floor in the process. ‘To sign these.’ She waved the papers at him furiously. ‘To put an end to something that should never have been started.’

‘You could have sent them via your solicitor.’ His calm voice irritated her further.

‘And I wish I had. But I was taking a chance—a gamble.’ She watched as he frowned, his dark eyes narrowing. ‘I had to know.’

He said nothing, as if he was trying to take in what she said, so she dropped the papers on the desk purposefully, picked up a pen and signed, tossing the pen back onto the polished surface next to the papers.

‘And now I do.’

* * *

Santos watched her sign the papers, listened as the pen crashed to the table. Each breath was hard to take, as if he was being suffocated. He hurt. Pain raced through him.

Even as she walked across the office he couldn’t say a word, couldn’t move, as if he’d been frozen in time. What the hell was the matter with him?

Something snapped, as if chains had broken. He inhaled deeply. The noise caught her attention and she turned to look at him. Her face was pale.

‘I know I was a fool.’ She threw the words at him as if he was nothing more than dirt at the edge of the road. ‘I gambled and I lost.’

He tried to make sense of her words. What was she trying to tell him?

Not the way I love you.

His mind replayed what she’d said moments before. Purposefully he moved towards her, and when she turned again panic tore through him. If she left now he’d never see her again. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. He loved her; he’d just refused to admit it.

‘I gambled too.’

The words hurried out and he clenched his hands, trying to keep himself from reaching for her, from preventing her from leaving.

She spun round and faced him again, her eyes sparkling with molten gold. ‘Not with emotions, you didn’t.’

She moved towards the door so suddenly he was taken off guard.

‘You gambled with your brother’s happiness, your greed. You won, Santos, and I hope you’re happy.’

Happy? He was the furthest thing from happy. He hadn’t felt like this since the day his mother had calmly left, saying goodbye as if she was just going shopping.

‘Georgina.’

He tried to form the words, tried to tell her he hadn’t gambled with Carlo’s happiness—at least not intentionally. He wanted to tell her he’d gambled his own—and hers. Something he hadn’t even realised until just a few seconds ago.

‘Don’t, Santos. I don’t want to hear how you’re driven by power and the need to control everything.’

‘That may have been true once.’ The words rushed out and for the first time in his adult life he knew he was losing.

‘And it still is.’ Her words were softer now, as if she’d given up fighting.

Mutely he watched as she opened the office door and paused in the doorway.

‘Goodbye, Santos.’

His reaction was so swift he didn’t have time to think. All he wanted to do was stop her from leaving, from walking out of his life for good. A life that wouldn’t be the same once she’d gone.

He reached out and took hold of her arm, propelling her back into the room, and kicked the door shut on the enquiring glances of passing staff. She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide, darkening rapidly, her breathing hard and fast. But it was the current of pure electricity between them that told him he was doing the right thing.

He didn’t want her to go. It wasn’t possession. It wasn’t power. It was more than that.

It was love.

He loved her.

This passionate woman had unlocked his heart, healed his wounds and shown him how love could be. He’d just been too stubborn to realise.

* * *

Georgina stepped back as he let her go, watching the show of emotions cross his handsome face. His pain and confusion were palpable, and she wanted to reach out to him—but to do so would be her undoing. Again she stepped back, but he moved closer until she had nowhere to go, the wall against her back.

‘This is what you do to me.’ His voice was hoarse with emotion. ‘I can’t think around you. I can’t sleep without you by my side. I can’t let you go.’

Her heart fluttered wildly and she dragged in a ragged breath. ‘Santos...?’ His name was barely a whisper from her lips.

He placed his palm on the wall above her shoulder, his face coming closer to hers, bringing him irresistibly close. Too close.

‘I want you, Georgina,’ he said huskily as he lowered his head to kiss her.

She moved sideways, away from temptation, but instantly he placed his other hand above her shoulder. Trapping her.

‘I want you with a passion so raw it almost hurts. In fact it does.’

She looked up into his dark eyes, so close now she could see how enlarged his pupils were, see the desire swirling there.

Say it, her mind urged him, but she refused to utter the words aloud. The blood rushed in her ears as her heart thumped and she bit her bottom lip hard. She would never beg anyone to say it. If he loved her he had to tell her.

‘I’ve never known this before, Georgina.’

‘What?’ she asked in a timid whisper, hardly daring to hear the answer.

‘Love.’

Her heart sang as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lips, easing the pain where she’d bitten into them hard.

‘I’ve never met a woman like you. From the moment you walked in here my fate was sealed. I just didn’t know it then. I couldn’t admit it—not even to myself.’

‘Can you now?’ she said in a cracked whisper.

He took her in his arms, pulled her close against him. ‘I love you, Georgina. My heart belongs to you and I never want it back.’

Her knees weakened and his arms tightened around her as he brushed his lips over hers. She pushed against his chest so she could look into his eyes. ‘I love you, Santos.’

With that he claimed her lips in a kiss so passionate it took all her breath away, leaving her light-headed.

‘Can we start again? Begin our marriage now, with honesty and love?’

As she looked up into the handsome face of the man she loved sunbeams lit up the office, casting a glow all around them. Once again the storm was over—and this time it was for good.

‘Only if it means we get another wedding night,’ she teased.

He laughed gently. ‘Now, that I can promise you, mi esposa.’

EPILOGUE

THE LEAVES WERE turning all shades of gold and brown as Georgina looked around the country cottage garden. Autumn sun cast its last lazy glow as it slid slowly behind the hill.

‘Happy anniversary,’ Santos said softly as he came to stand behind her.

He wrapped his arms around her. She leant back against him, happier than she’d ever been.

‘You’ve brought me to the country for our anniversary weekend?’ She hadn’t doubted he’d remember their first anniversary—she just hadn’t expected him to help her realise one of her dreams, even if it was only for a weekend. It would be a wonderful place to give him her gift.

‘I’ve done more than that, Georgie.’ He nuzzled her hair and then kissed her head. ‘I’ve bought you this piece of the English countryside. This place is yours.’

Georgina swivelled round in his arms and looked up at him, excitement almost exploding inside her. ‘This place? You’ve bought it?’

‘I most certainly have, and now is your chance to show me just what is so wonderful about living in the countryside.’

‘Oh, Santos, it’s perfect.’

She couldn’t believe that this cottage, with roses rambling around the front door, was all hers. He opened the door and led her inside. It had been furnished and decorated to the highest standard, just as she would have expected from Santos, but it still maintained that country charm she’d always longed for.

‘In fact it’s more than perfect.’

‘There’s more, mi esposa.’

‘What more could there be than this?’

‘Emma and Carlo will be joining us.’

‘They will?’

‘It’s their anniversary too, and I thought it would be nice to be together, but we still have a few hours before they arrive. Carlo has become a workaholic since he opened his own hotel, and he wouldn’t leave until he’d sorted everything out for the weekend.’

Georgina laughed at the image of her brother-in-law putting the business before a weekend with Emma. ‘Perhaps there is more of you in him than you realise?’ she teased, and reached up to brush a kiss on his lips.

‘Well, you should know what we Ramirez men are like by now.’

He kissed her and passion sparked to life, zipping between them.

She pulled back from him and looked into his eyes, which were darkening by the second. ‘I have a gift for you too.’

He put her at arm’s length and smiled. ‘Can you beat this?’ he asked as he took her into the living room, which looked cosy and inviting.

‘You’re going to be a father.’

‘Are you serious?’ He looked deep into her eyes, studying her reaction.

She nodded, unable say anything. After years of telling herself she’d be the worst mother a child could have, she was still apprehensive.

‘When?’ His words seemed choked and hard to come by.

‘You’re impatient, aren’t you?’ she teased gently.

‘Not impatient. Overjoyed. And very much in love with you.’ He kissed her softly and with so much love she fought back the tears of happiness that threatened.

‘April,’ she said as his lips left hers. ‘Our baby will be born in April.’

‘That,’ he said huskily as he smiled down at her, ‘is a cause for celebration.’

She laughed and snuggled against him, relishing the strength of his arms around her. ‘I love you so much, Santos,’ she said as she heard his heartbeat.

He swept her off her feet and, looking down at her, smiled. ‘I’m the happiest man alive and it’s all thanks to you. How did I ever manage to exist before you arrived in my life?’

He edged his way out of the living room towards the stairs, a stream of Spanish rushing from his lips as he looked at the narrow staircase.

Georgina laughed.

‘Put me down.’ She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him briefly. ‘This is one flight of stairs you won’t be able to carry me up.’

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from RIVAL’S CHALLENGE by Abby Green

CHAPTER ONE

ANTONIO CHATSFIELD SENT silent not interested vibes to the lustrous dark-haired beauty sitting at the bar with her breasts displayed to prominent advantage in her low-cut dress, her kohl-enhanced eyes firmly on him.

Everything about her jangled at his sensitive nerve ends. She was too obvious. Too smooth. Too polished. This whole place was too polished. He cast a jaundiced glance around the dark and sensual bar space of his family’s London flagship hotel. For the past decade he’d been used to surroundings that were more likely to be made of rubble and scented with the stench of chaos, death and panic. But he pushed those thoughts aside. Not now.

He’d chosen to come here for the dark corners and dim lighting as opposed to drinking himself into a stupor in the hotel suite which he currently called home. He smiled grimly to himself: at least he could appreciate the functionality of wanting to numb himself while in the presence of other humans. His therapist would undoubtedly approve.

That functionality had been hard fought for but even now the familiar feeling of skin-prickling clamminess was never too far away for him to forget completely—the stomach-churning terror that used to grip him at random moments, sparked by something as minor as a dog barking or a loud noise, wrenching him out of the present and back to the cataclysmic past.

But the drink wasn’t having much of an effect this evening. It was as if the acerbity inside him was diluting the effects. Even the woman lost interest now, turning her attention to another man who had just arrived at the other end of the bar. Antonio saw them exchange glances and saw the man indicate for the bartender to order her another drink.

Mentally he saluted them. He’d had enough encounters like that in his time. He just wasn’t in the mood for one right now. Something spiked in his gut; he hadn’t been in the mood for longer than he cared to admit, preferring to bury himself in work to avoid the gaping chasm inside him that he used to fill with meaningless encounters and high-octane danger.

He’d only been back in London for a couple of months, after years in exile, albeit punctuated by trips home. He was back because his family was in a state of crisis. His father had installed Christos Giatrakos as CEO to take charge of the family business—a worldwide string of eponymous luxury hotels that had been the byword in glamour and luxury since the 1920s.

The crisis was one of reputation and potential damage to the exclusive Chatsfield brand. Antonio’s younger siblings, with the exception of his sister Lucilla, who had begged him to come and help, were all seemingly hell-bent on various forms of self-destruction amidst screaming headlines and lurid paparazzi shots. God knew, Antonio had indulged in his fair share of self-destruction along the way. He’d also left home when a lot of them were on the cusp of adulthood, so he could hardly judge them now.

Antonio had turned his back on his inheritance a long time ago and had had no intention of taking up the reins again, especially not when the autocratic Greek CEO wanted him to utilise his military and business expertise under the position of head of strategy to orchestrate the resurrection and expansion of the Chatsfield brand.

But his closest sibling, Lucilla, had begged him to reconsider, indicating that it would be the perfect position from which to help her topple the CEO. Apparently Giatrakos didn’t know better than to let the enemy in through the front gate. And Lucilla’s entreaties had called to that part of Antonio that still wanted to make things better. He felt that he’d left it too long to step in and offer to help his other brothers and sister, who were all fully fledged adults by now, but Lucilla had expressly asked him to help her. She wanted to prove to Giatrakos that they could restore the somewhat tarnished Chatsfield name by covertly taking over a rival hotel business, the Kennedy Group, before the shareholders’ meeting in August, demonstrating that they had no need of an outsider. And if that meant coming back to a place he’d have preferred never to see again, then so be it.

A familiar ache grew in Antonio’s chest to think of his siblings and how none of them, including himself, had ever really had a chance, let down by their parents long ago. He’d done his best for a while, but it hadn’t been enough.

The old wounds of the blazing row he’d had with his father more than ten years ago were still vivid. That was when he’d realised how futile his efforts were and that perhaps the best thing he could do for his family was to walk away and let them get on with it. As his father had reminded him all too succinctly, Antonio wasn’t his brothers’ and sisters’ father and never would be, so he might as well give up trying.

A mirthless smile touched Antonio’s mouth. His sister Lucilla knew him well. She sensed the guilt he felt for having left his family when he had, even though she’d been the one to urge him to go. She also sensed his restlessness, his rootlessness. But perhaps most of all she was counting on his well-ingrained sense of responsibility still being partly intact. They’d been united in a heavy burden the day their mother had left their home, never to be seen from that day to this.

Antonio, despite all of the other mental images he’d accrued over the past decade, each one more horrific than the last, would never be able to erase the image of teenaged Lucilla holding their newborn baby sister in her arms, tears running down her cheeks. Antonio, she’s gone...just left us here. Alone.

Antonio had been too angry and overwhelmed and scared to say anything, so he’d just pulled Lucilla and their baby sister into his arms, vowing to himself that he wouldn’t let the family fall apart. Whatever it took. He was fifteen at the time.

Disgusted to find his thoughts deviating down that unwelcome path, Antonio downed his drink, telling himself he’d be better off in his suite after all and not infecting the clientele with his surly presence. After all, he was trying to help his sister....

But just when he was about to make a move from the stool, the door opened and a woman walked in and Antonio’s head blanked of any intention except to stay where he was.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her that arrested him so powerfully. Maybe it was that she immediately stood out with her paler than pale colouring, made even more noticeable against the stark black of her dress. Maybe it was her long, slim, shapely bare legs and the classic black high heels. Whatever it was, Antonio couldn’t move, his eyes tracking her graceful movements with a precision that had come from years of practice tracking targets that were far more lethal.

She came to the middle of the bar and waited patiently for the bartender to attend her. She had vibrant bright red hair, caught up in a high bun, showing off her delicate neck. A heavy blunt fringe was swept a little to one side; her eyes looked blue, but dark. Her dress was all at once discreet and sexy. It was silk and draped her from neck to mid-thigh, cinched in at the waist.

She had slender arms and delicate wrists. Short functional nails painted with clear polish. A black clutch bag. Diamond stud earrings and no other jewellery. Antonio realised that she wasn’t as tall as he’d imagined—he’d guess about five foot four without the heels. Petite.

Instantly that awareness of her inherent feminine fragility caused a slow burn in his groin, sending blood to his penis, thickening and hardening the shaft of flesh. Antonio had to move slightly to accommodate his body, mildly frustrated that he was being so easily stimulated when he’d felt dead inside at the other woman’s far more obvious charms.

From what he could tell under the loose-fitting silk of the dress, this woman’s breasts were small. Maybe small enough not to wear a bra. Just then she moved slightly and Antonio realised that there was a slash in the front panel of her dress from the neck to just under her breasts, so discreet you mightn’t notice, but he did. He also noticed a tantalising curve of one pale breast, pert and firm.

Desire engulfed him, swift and debilitating, as he imagined sliding a hand into that gap of material and cupping her breast, feeling the scrape of her hard nipple against his palm.

* * *

Orla Kennedy stood at the bar and tried not to let the prickle of self-consciousness make her run back out the original Lalique-panelled door of the seriously intimidating dark and decadent 1920s bar. She reminded herself stoutly that she was here for Dutch courage and to gain precious inside knowledge ahead of her meeting, so she couldn’t give up just because she felt as if every single pair of eyes was on her, singling her out as a sad woman drinking alone. Or worse, she realised when she saw a man and woman obviously flirting at the other end of the bar, that she was here to pick up a man!

Orla glanced furtively around her, picking out some more couples at the intimate tables and a group of city boys in suits sitting at a table along the wall near the back of the bar. She breathed a sigh of relief that no one seemed to be laughing and pointing at her and decided to sit on a stool at the bar, noting that she could take in what was happening through the antique mirror on the opposite wall.

The handsome bartender put her drink in front of her with a wink and Orla thanked him, signing it to her room. She took a sip but still felt that slightly uncomfortable prickling sensation, as if someone was watching her.

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to book a room at the Chatsfield Hotel ahead of her meeting with them tomorrow. She’d thought, in a light-bulb moment of inspiration, that it would serve her to get a measure of the people who seemed to be intent on taking over her own family’s ailing hotel business. Not that she needed to stay at the hotel to know of its well-documented luxuriousness and exclusivity.

However, its reputation had taken a dent in recent times, thanks to the scandalous exploits of the Chatsfield heirs and heiresses. Orla’s soft mouth firmed to think of how they seemed determined to acquire chains in distress. Namely, the Kennedy Group, started up and owned by her father. He’d begun in Ireland in the sixties with a small hotel in the west of Ireland and through sheer grit and determination had built up an empire—helped along by the famed boom years. By then Patrick Kennedy had moved operations to England with his wife and young daughter, Orla.

Unfortunately the economic downturn hadn’t been kind to them and a series of hotel closures had severely diminished their overall worth, making them vulnerable to takeover bids. They were nowhere near the league of the Chatsfield empire, but Orla could see how they would be an attractive prospect to add to the Chatsfield portfolio, as they weren’t too far removed with their good reputation and discreetly exclusive clientele. Which was why she was here now, trying to get a feel for their adversary. And, she realised with a sinking feeling, all it was doing was driving home just how intimidating a task she was facing.

The feeling of being watched was so intense at that moment that Orla looked to her left and the breath left her mouth in a gasp when she saw a man deep in the shadows, at the corner of the bar, watching her intently. He didn’t look away. And, to her rising mortification, neither could she.

It was the shock of colliding with that dark unsettling gaze, of not noticing him before now, that held her enthralled. She wondered how she could have missed him. He commanded the space around him. He was dark and broad. Short thick hair. Dramatic masculine features. Almost harsh. An unsmiling grim mouth, but full lips, his top one slightly fuller, and suddenly Orla was fixated on his mouth, and wondering what it would feel like to have those unsmiling lips touch hers.

The realistion of what she was doing—staring at a complete stranger’s mouth and wondering what it would be like to kiss him—hit Orla squarely in the chest and she almost fell off the stool she was so embarrassed. Cheeks flaming, she swung her guilty gaze back to her drink and then knew she couldn’t stay there spotlit under the bar’s lights, dim as they were.

Aghast that the man might have misconstrued her look, she gathered up her bag and the drink and moved to one of the tables against the wall which was covered in dark opulent velvet. She chose to sit at the wall, on the banquette seat, and breathed a sigh of relief to be slightly more hidden, cursing herself that she hadn’t had the sense to just come in and choose a seat and let her order be taken.

She noticed her heart was thumping harder than usual, a queer fluttering low in her abdomen, and looked over to where the man was again, confident that he wouldn’t see her now. But she could see him and he was still looking at her. Orla’s pulse raced. She’d never experienced this before. It felt earthy, wicked, sexy.

Against the silk of her dress, her bare breasts peaked, making tremors of awareness shoot up and down her body. She’d only realised when she’d unpacked that she hadn’t brought the bra she had to wear with this dress. And she’d had to wear the dress as she didn’t want to look too conspicuous in the bar in the trouser suit she’d brought for the meeting tomorrow.

She’d figured that the loose material would hide the fact that she was braless as she was lucky enough, or unlucky enough, that her breasts were on the small side. But now, she felt as if she might as well be naked and was acutely aware of the gap in the material which usually showed only a discreet glimpse of the bra but which would now show skin if someone looked hard enough. Like the man. He’d been looking hard enough. Instant heat moistened between Orla’s legs and she squirmed.

She resolutely diverted her gaze from the man and looked down, hunching her shoulders slightly for fear of giving anyone else the slightest bit of encouragement.

On top of all of the awareness coursing through her body which she couldn’t seem to dampen down was the disbelief that she had even attracted the gaze of such a man. From what she’d seen he looked like the type who would go for the far more busty lady who was now practically sitting in her partner’s lap. Any minute now they would leave and Orla felt a twinge of something like envy for a second before squashing it with disgust.

OK, so it had been a while since she’d had sex. More than a year to be precise. And it had been a good while before that, if ever, that she’d had any kind of sex to write home about. And maybe she had never had a relationship that lasted longer than a few weeks. But the men she met didn’t seem so enamoured when they found out that her passion for her family business came first.

Orla had contented herself that her career was her bedfellow. And up till right now it had been perfectly satisfactory. If a little lonely and frustrating when she saw amorous couples come into her hotel for romantic weekends and then leave a couple of days later looking sated and dreamy-eyed. So why was she thinking of this all of a sudden and feeling hot and unsatisfied inside?

Because of a stranger’s blatantly interested gaze. God. What was wrong with her? He was probably the type of guy to hook up with anything with a—

‘Do you mind if I join you?’

Orla’s head snapped up so fast she heard a bone crack in her neck. For a second it was as if someone had just hit her. Everything receded and then rushed back. The man was standing there. In a dark suit and white open-necked shirt. He was astonishingly gorgeous up close, and he was enormous. All over. Ridiculously tall...six foot three? Six foot four?

Orla was so stunned that she couldn’t speak. He clearly took that as encouragement and sat down opposite her, in the velvet upholstered bar chair. She could only gape at him. His sheer nerve. The fact that he was right there in front of her.

He put his drink on the small table and that seemed to jolt Orla back to some kind of reality. She looked to the left and right and then hissed in his direction, ‘I did not say you could sit down.’

Her heart was beating so fast she was breathless. Giddy with a rush of something that felt disturbingly like excitement. Disgusted at herself for this rampant reaction, she went to stand up but the man just said urgently in a deep and mesmerising voice, ‘Please don’t leave.’

His voice tugged at her nerve endings, making them tingle. Orla stopped and looked at him. She felt breathless all over again. He really was huge. Broad and powerful. Even more arrestingly masculine up close, his features defined and stamped with virility. And then she realised his accent wasn’t foreign. She frowned. ‘You’re from here?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘You just...’ Orla went hot in the dim light when she realised she was giving away the fact that she’d thought about him for more than a fleeting moment. ‘You look foreign.’

His mouth tipped up on one side, drawing Orla’s eyes to it.

‘I’m half Italian, half English.’

‘Oh...’

‘And you?’

Almost slightly stupefied, Orla answered, ‘Irish...born there but brought up here.’

‘That would explain your red hair.’

Orla looked into his eyes and wondered what colour they were. They appeared black in this light and she shivered slightly, suddenly aware of a hardness to this man she’d not noticed before. A latent sense of danger.

And then she remembered where she was and stiffened again. ‘Would you please leave? I did not ask you to join me.’

There was a taut silence between them and he didn’t move. Huffing, Orla made to move again. ‘Fine, well, if you can’t have the courtesy to move, then I will.’

But his hand snaked out and wrapped around her wrist and Orla felt as if a lightning bolt of heat went straight to her groin.

‘Please...you’ll be doing me a huge favour if you can just pretend that we know each other for a minute.’

Orla looked at him. Speechless and not just because of his hand on her wrist that felt hot and big. She pulled free and held her arm to her chest in an unconsciously defensive gesture. She narrowed her eyes on him. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘See that woman at the bar?’

Orla glanced over to where he had inclined his head slightly and saw the woman who had been wrapped around the other man like a vine. He was gone and she was alone again.

‘Yes, I see her,’ Orla supplied somewhat reluctantly.

‘Well, I’m afraid that I was going to be next on her hit list.’

Orla looked at the man and her eyes widened. He had a look on his face that was downright...pathetic. Big eyes, all innocence. Orla felt a very scary falling sensation inside her chest. He was flirting with her. Outrageously. Her nipples tightened into hard tight buds and Orla crossed her arms for fear they’d stand out like beacons against the thin silk of her dress. She put on her most severe expression. The one that usually had staff scurrying in all directions.

‘And you’re trying to make me believe that you’re not strong enough to stand up to a little bitty woman?’

He lifted a brow and that elevated his face from gorgeous to downright sexy. ‘Not working, no?’

Orla shook her head and couldn’t stop her own mouth twitching ever so slightly. She saw movement behind the man and observed dryly, ‘I think you’re safe now—her current victim looks like he was just on a toilet break.’

The man didn’t look behind him, but Orla realised when he looked up that he could see through the reflection of the venetian glass over the banquette seat as it was tilted slightly down towards the seating area. He looked back at her and smiled. ‘There goes my cunning ruse to have an excuse to talk to you.’

Butterflies exploded in Orla’s belly. She could insist on getting up to go, but right now she was curiously loath to. This man was a smooth charmer, but he also had an intriguing rough edge too, and there was no doubt about it, but something deeply feminine within her felt like it was blossoming in the heat of his regard. Coming back to life.

As if sensing her weakening, he said, ‘Can I buy you a drink for disturbing your peace?’

Orla hesitated. She had the funny sense that her peace was about to be disturbed in a very profound way. And that if she pushed for him to leave again he’d go. There was something innately proud about him.

But what harm was a drink? Feeling sensitised and more alive than she could remember feeling in a long time—if ever—she uncrossed her arms and shrugged minutely and took a mental step over a line. ‘Sure, why not?’

As if like magic, to prevent her changing her mind, an immaculately clad waiter appeared to take their orders. The man didn’t take his eyes off Orla and the waiter left. She was feeling breathless again, all hot and liquid inside.

A very feminine dampness was growing between her legs and she crossed them in a moment of self-consciousness. His eye immediately went to one pale thigh and Orla cursed her choice of dress. She put her hands on her leg and he looked back up, a smile making his mouth quirk again as if he knew exactly how awkward she felt.

He sat back. ‘So...tell me, you’re here on business?’

Orla nodded. She really didn’t want to get into anything that reminded her of the reality she faced. The inevitable takeover of her family business. So she said, ‘I’m in sales...’

Which was pretty much true. Along with marketing, management, PR, entertainment, travel, diplomacy...

The man grimaced and said, ‘I’m in acquisitions. It’s a grind, isn’t it?’

Orla regarded him suspiciously. This man looked no more like a banal businessman caught up in the daily grind than Santa Claus in full flight with all the reindeer. But she sensed intoxicatingly as if they’d both tacitly agreed to pretend to be something, someone, else.

She was about to respond when something unpalatable occurred to her. She glanced at his left hand and didn’t see a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. ‘Are you married?’

He shook his head and the faintly sick expression that passed over his features assured her even more than when he said, ‘No...’

Then he frowned. ‘Are you?’

Orla shook her head quickly and repressed a shudder. No way was she ever getting married so that some man could come and take half of the business she’d worked so hard to build up with her father. She’d seen the detrimental effects a marriage had on a business. ‘No,’ she said quickly, emphatically.

‘Well, as we’ve established that we’re both free and single...where were we?’

Orla repressed a shiver of awareness, of pure physical longing, and the feeling that she wasn’t in control of what was happening at all. She forced her mind to operate. ‘We were in sales and acquisitions, I believe.’ And why did that suddenly sound so...suggestive?

‘Ah, yes...’

The waiter returned then with their drinks. Whisky for both of them.

The man lifted his glass and tipped it towards her. ‘To chance encounters.’

Orla lifted her glass too, and said, ‘To very forward men with pathetic chat-up lines.’

He smiled. And so did she. They took a drink and Orla relished the smooth feel of the liquid running down her throat. Warming her up. She felt unbearably sensual all of a sudden. Languorous.

‘Perhaps we should exchange names?’

Orla’s chest tightened. Names were real. They would root this in reality and she suddenly didn’t want that.

Far more lightly than she felt, she said, ‘I think introductions are overrated. We’ll most likely never meet again. What’s the point?’

His eyes glinted in the dim light. A tiny smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. ‘We don’t have to divulge real names if you don’t want to. But I would like to call you...something.’

Orla went hot again. So that he could call her something in the throes of passion? The wicked thought made her pulse spasm between her legs.

He held out a hand then, a mischievous look in his eye. ‘I’m Marco.’

Orla put her hand in his and for a second her mind blanked when his big one enclosed hers completely. When she felt the calluses on his skin.

‘I’m...Kate.’

‘Nice to meet you, Kate...?’

Orla smiled at his obvious query as to her second name and pulled her hand free. ‘Just Kate.’

He nodded. ‘Kate Kate, it is. And I’m Marco Marco.’

Lord. No man Orla had ever met came close to this man. He enveloped her in sexual awareness. She felt energised. Alive.

‘You have a meeting here tomorrow?’

Immediately Orla rejected another reminder of reality. She shook her head. ‘Let’s...not talk about tomorrow.’

He went still and his eyes narrowed on her face. She could see him look at her mouth and she imagined she could feel it tingle.

He said with a rough edge to his voice, ‘No real names and no tomorrow. You’re right. The present is so much more interesting.’

He leant forward, glass in his hand. ‘I was about to leave when you walked in.’

Orla’s heart hitched. ‘You were?’

He nodded. ‘But then I saw you and I stopped.’

Mesmerised by his dark gaze, Orla asked faintly, ‘Why did you stop?’

‘Because you captivated me.’

‘Oh...’ For a long moment she said nothing, could only look at his mouth as a tight wire of need seemed to link to the insistent throbbing between her legs.

‘This is where you say you noticed me too...’ Marco supplied helpfully.

Orla’s eyes rose. She felt dizzy. She was losing it. No longer herself. ‘I didn’t see you at first.... I don’t know why.’

The man’s mouth flattened for a second. ‘I was hidden. In the shadows.’

Orla nodded slowly. Something touched her—as if what he was saying had a deeper resonance. ‘You were.... That’s why I didn’t see you. At first.’

Orla couldn’t stop talking. ‘And then when I did...I couldn’t look away.’

She blushed now and clasped her drink in two hands. ‘But I didn’t want you to think I was encouraging you.’

‘Don’t worry,’ came the dry response. ‘You gave a fairly frosty signal to stay away.’

She looked up, incensed. ‘I’m not frosty!’

He got all heavy-lidded. ‘I know...’

Orla went hot all over. Her nipples ached now they were so tight. Her belly clenched with need. She’d never been this turned on in her life.

The bar space was like a dark decadent cocoon. Orla glanced around and noticed that the table of men had left. So had the amorous couple at the bar. There was only one other remaining older couple, and she hadn’t even noticed. She felt a jolt of shock.

Marco lifted his glass and downed what was left of his drink in one go. For a second Orla had the wrenching sensation that he was going to leave and the feeling of rejection of that idea stunned her. She didn’t even know this man!

He put his glass down and Orla took a quick fortifying sip of hers. He looked at her for a long intense moment and she couldn’t even break the tension because it resonated within her. She wanted this man with an urgency that was completely alien. And thrilling.

His voice was deep. ‘I wanted you from the moment you walked in. I want you so much I ache with it. And I can’t remember the last time I wanted a woman this badly.’

Orla’s mouth went dry. The sum total of their physical contact so far had been his hand on her wrist to restrain her from leaving, but she knew that if he put his mouth anywhere near hers she would go up in flames.

Something about his brutal honesty connected with her. It was so much more seductive than if he’d insisted on some meaningless patter for another half an hour when they both knew that what was happening between them was crazy. Unreal. Unprecedented.

Feeling shaky at the thought of even contemplating what she was contemplating, Orla said, ‘I...I want you too.’

His eyes flashed and the throbbing heat between her legs intensified and she had to fight to stay still when she wanted to move around and ease the ache somehow.

She blurted out, ‘But...I didn’t come down here to meet someone, for a one-night stand.’

He looked deadly serious. ‘I know.’

His eyes on hers, hypnotising her, he said, ‘I’m going to get up and pay for these drinks at the bar. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But if you don’t...’

He didn’t have to finish. If she didn’t...she would spend the night with this man. In his bed. After a long charged moment, he stood up, reminding Orla of just how powerful and tall he was, calling to that deeply feminine part of her that exulted in the sheer biology of a potentially strong and virile mate. She’d never met someone so intensely masculine who made her feel so female.

Then he turned and went to the bar with a fluid grace that made Orla stare after him helplessly. Her mind went into turmoil. She had so much to think about—papers for the meeting tomorrow that she should go over. The reality of facing the demise of her family business. And yet, right here, right now, it all seemed very far away and not that important.

Somehow she got up and grabbed her bag. She was struggling to hang on to sanity, elusive as it was. She felt hot, feverish. Excited, scared. She couldn’t just let this man take her to his room. It was crazy, ridiculous. Dangerous.

Determined not to be led by her suddenly out of control hormones, Orla intended to leave the bar so that when he finished paying she’d be gone.

But just when she drew level with the tables nearest the bar she couldn’t help looking up and her gaze clashed immediately with a dark one reflected in the mirror behind the bar. Her heart stopped. Her breath got short and choppy.

His face was unreadable, those eyes so dark that she couldn’t make out the expression, but she couldn’t look away. Much like when she’d seen him first.

She realised that he’d already paid. He’d been watching her for the past couple of minutes, waiting to see what she’d do. Giving her the chance to go if she wanted to. And suddenly, something deep inside her rebelled. Broke free. She wanted this man so badly she ached all over. So she stood there. Didn’t move. It passed between them, unspoken but there. Yes.

Slowly he turned around and the full force of his physicality hit her between the eyes. Without a word he came towards her and took her free hand in his. Then he led her out of the bar.

In a daze, Orla let him lead her to the lift. Once inside they were alone. To her surprise, he let her go and leant back against the opposite wall. In the brighter lights of the lift he was even more intimidating. His skin was a dark olive, his eyes a very dark brown. For a second sanity threatened to return and then as the lift ascended he said in a low rough voice, ‘Show me your breast.’

His voice was commanding and any remaining sanity melted away and was replaced with heat. For a second Orla couldn’t take in his words and then she followed his gaze and looked down to see where her dress was gaping open slightly, showing skin.

Infused with a heady and hot sense of something very wicked, Orla lifted her hand and slowly pulled one side of the silk dress open, revealing one pale breast. Her fingers brushed against her tingling nipple and she had to bite her lip to stop a sound of reaction coming out of her mouth.

She stared at him, her cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and intoxification. His eyes were black, smouldering, cheekbones darkening with a rush of blood. Her nipple tightened, the aureole puckered.

The lift shuddered lightly to a halt. Marco’s eyes glittered as he dragged his gaze back up. Orla dropped her hand and the dress went back into place. The doors opened and he took her hand again, tightly, leading her out. She almost had to jog to keep up with his much longer stride.

He stopped at the end of the corridor and opened the door with a key card. They went in. Orla dimly registered that the room was palatial and had an astounding view. As soon as the door closed behind them, Marco let Orla’s hand go to rip off his jacket, throwing it in the direction of a chair.

Her back was against the door. He turned to face her and she looked up at him, in awe all over again at his sheer size. He made her feel tiny, delicate. Desire pounded through her in waves.

He stopped for a second and asked tautly, ‘Are you sure you want this?’

Orla had made her decision back in the bar when she’d met that black gaze in the mirror. She swallowed and tried to inject her voice with as much insouciance as she could muster considering this was the boldest thing she’d ever done in her life.

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

Copyright © 2014 by Harlequin Books S.A.

Falling for Her Captor

Elisabeth Hobbes

When the Captain spoke next his voice was unexpectedly gentle.

‘You should get some sleep, my lady. You have had a hard day and we'll be back on the road early. I give you my word that you will come to no such harm again.’

The memory of the Captain's body on hers as they had struggled on the ground came back to Aline in a flash, along with the words she had screamed at him and the manner in which he had countered her assumption. He had said she was safe from … that, but could she trust him?

As if he was reading Aline's thoughts, the Captain unrolled the blanket and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. ‘You need have no fear for your safety in any respect whilst you are in my charge. I will keep you safe.’

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