About the Author

A. C. ARTHUR was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland where she currently resides with her husband and three children. Determined to bring a new edge to romance, she continues to develop intriguing plots, sensual love scenes, racy characters and fresh dialogue, thus keeping the readers on their toes! Artist loves to hear from her readers and can be reached through her contact form or via email at acarthur22@yahoo.com

One Perfect Moment

A.C. Arthur

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08489-5

ONE PERFECT MOMENT

© 2018 Artist Arthur

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Back Cover Text

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

About the Publisher

He thought he’d escaped his notorious history—

Now she could thrust him back in the spotlight...

TV producer Ava Cannon is stunned to discover that the secret lover who briefly shared her bed is one of America’s most famous sextuplets. But Dr. Gage Taylor now shuns the spotlight. As they rekindle their sizzling affair, will Ava have to choose between a game-changing career move and the man she loves?

Prologue

Staten Island, New York

“Just this one time,” Ava Cannon whispered as his hands cupped her butt.

“Once is enough,” Gage Taylor murmured while moving them farther into her trailer.

He kicked the door closed with his foot, pausing a second to reach back and lock it. Then his hands were on her once more, his mouth crashing down over hers. The kiss took her breath away, every stroke of his tongue sending searing bolts of desire through her system until her fingers were gripping his shirt. The feel of his strong biceps through the cotton material, coupled with the hardness of his body, now pressed closely against hers, caused Ava’s knees to tremble.

This was what she’d been fighting for over the last couple of months. Each day she’d stepped onto the set of Doctor’s Orders, knowing that he would be there. The strong hands that she’d seen holding her script as he’d checked the words she’d written, monitoring them for medical accuracy, now touched her body.

“It will be enough,” Ava whispered when he tore his mouth away from hers and she could take a breath.

He tugged the hem of her shirt from her pants. She lifted her arms up over her head, and he pulled the shirt off. His hands immediately went around her to the clasp of her bra, which he quickly unhooked before removing and tossing it somewhere on the trailer floor.

“Enough,” he mumbled as he dipped his head. “More than enough.”

His lips were on her breast then, teeth holding a turgid nipple before he sucked her in deep. Ava arched her back, her hands going to his shoulders as she tried to hold on to him. When he moved to the other breast she let her head lull back, her eyes closing to the delicious sensations rippling throughout her body.

Dr. Gage Taylor was a brilliant obstetrician and researcher. He’d come highly recommended when she’d asked who in the New York area would be a good consultant for her show. And when he arrived in her office that first day, she’d been rewarded with how jaw-dropping handsome the guy was. Ava should have known then that she was in trouble.

Now, she was pulling at his shirt until the buttons popped off. He grunted and hurried to unsnap his pants while she did the same, toed off her flats and pushed her pants and panties down her legs. His shirt was on the floor, his pants undone, his hands moving quickly to pull a condom packet from his wallet. She pushed his pants and his boxers down as he ripped the condom packet open and then smoothed the latex over his length. He wore leather loafers that he kicked off his feet before stepping out of his pants.

Ava sat on the couch. She scooted back on the wide pillows and looked up at all of the heavenly goodness that was Gage Taylor. Six feet one inch of golden honey-hued skin, ripped abs, muscled limbs and a thick, long erection. She swallowed as her gaze rested there.

“Just this once,” he said, his voice deep and husky in the confined space of the trailer.

Ava licked her lips and nodded. “Yes, just this once.”

He was over her by then, his lips on hers, his knee spreading her legs apart. She opened her mouth to his persistence, clasped her hands to the back of his head to hold him there. He pushed them both back to a lying position on the couch, arranging himself between her legs. He said something, but Ava couldn’t hear him over the pounding of her heart and the rush of desire.

Her legs were already trembling by the time the crest of his erection touched her entrance. He pressed harder.

She moaned deeper, and their “one time” began.

Chapter 1

New York City Three weeks later

Gage stepped out onto the sidewalk on a warm September morning, three weeks after they’d wrapped up shooting on Doctor’s Orders. Despite the strange hours he’d been keeping during the seven weeks he served as an on-site consultant for the network medical drama, this morning he was expected at the hospital by nine. That meant he was taking his usual four-block walk to the Nancy Links Medical Center, where he’d worked as an obstetrician for the last four years.

He held his briefcase in one hand, cell phone in the other as he walked away from the thirty-story condo building, his Italian leather dress shoes clicking on the sidewalk. This afternoon he was seeing patients, but this morning was relatively free, he noted as he looked at his mobile calendar.

Gage had discovered early in life that being organized was a necessity. Growing up in a household with five siblings meant he had to know what was his and where his personal belongings were at all times. He’d learned a lot growing up as one of the infamous Taylor sextuplets, enough to make not repeating past mistakes one of his main priorities in life.

He looked up in time to see the light changing and then crossed the street just before his phone rang.

“Dr. Taylor,” he answered because he could see from the caller ID that it was the hospital calling.

“Good morning,” his assistant, Carrie, replied.

Carrie had been with him for the last six months. For his first two years at the medical center he’d been in residency, and then his inaugural research paper on infertility and the strides that had been made in the field had been published. That had propelled his career forward, and Gage became a staff obstetrician as well as a grant recipient in the following weeks to continue his research. With those dual titles, he’d been given a corner office on the hospital’s fourth floor, an administrative assistant and, just recently, a lab assistant. His first admin had gone on maternity leave just weeks before his father’s death last September. Since then, he’d gone through three more assistants, who had been sent to him via an employment agency.

Who would have thought that after all this time out of the spotlight, there would still be someone—actually three someones, all female—who not only knew who he was, but were also ready to claim their place in the spotlight by either working for him, or possibly sleeping with him.

Gage blamed his father’s death a year ago for the renewed interest in the first African American sextuplets to be born in Temptation, Virginia, thirty years ago. After leaving his wife and seven-year-old children, Theodor Taylor had gone on to become the CEO of Taylor Manufacturing, building an empire that designed engines for a Japanese automotive company. Stock in the company had soared at the time of Theodor’s death, and when it was announced that the estate would be handled by the children, Gage recalled fielding calls from newspaper reporters to investors asking about their plans for the international company. That was until Gray, the oldest Taylor sextuplet, brokered a deal to sell Taylor Manufacturing and divided the proceeds evenly among the siblings.

“Dr. Gogenheim wants to see you as soon as you get in this morning,” Carrie was saying as Gage shook his head to rid himself of the memories of his father.

“Really? I didn’t see anything on my calendar,” he replied. “I planned to reach out to that research facility in Paris before their offices close for the day when I get in.”

“I recall you mentioning that yesterday when we spoke. However, Dr. Gogenheim’s assistant just called to see if you were in yet. I told her you were on your way.”

“I am,” Gage said just before a driver slammed on the brakes, subsequently causing the cars behind him to do the same.

Those were the glorious sounds of a morning during rush-hour traffic. When the noise subsided, he continued. “Fine, I’ll go right up to his office, but please have the number and the name of a contact person at the facility in Paris on my desk for when I return.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get that information now.”

“Thank you, and, Carrie?”

“Yes, sir, I hadn’t gone down to get your Caffè Americano yet. I’ll wait about half an hour. It will be on your desk when you finish with Dr. Gogenheim.”

Gage smiled. “Thanks, Carrie.”

He’d never been a morning person. To survive undergrad, med school and residency required the strongest coffee possible. Luckily for him, there was a Starbucks on the ground floor of the medical center. Gage showed his appreciation for Carrie going the extra mile to get his coffee by opening a credit account with the barista and paying them monthly for all drinks and any other items that he and Carrie ordered.

After disconnecting the call, Gage scrolled through some of the emails he’d missed in the last couple of days because he’d spent the weekend at a colleague’s house in the Hamptons. He had been attending, of all things, a baby shower.

Gage approached the hospital minutes later and walked through the revolving glass doors. His honey-colored burnished leather wingtip lace-up Tom Ford shoes clicked against the polished floors as he made his way through the lobby and down the hall toward the elevators that would lead to the obstetrics and gynecology floors. He slipped his phone into his suit jacket pocket just before stepping into the elevator. When he heard someone yelling, “Hold the elevator!” he extended his arm so that his briefcase kept the door from closing.

“Thanks,” the woman, dressed in light blue scrubs, said as she made her way into the compartment and pressed the floor she needed.

“No problem,” Gage said and returned the smile she was so eagerly offering.

As the elevator began to move, he thought of how pretty she was, with her dark brown hair pulled back from her face and green eyes twinkling each time she looked up at him. He could ask her out, but he’d decided a long time ago that the quick, no-commitment type of interaction he preferred to have with women didn’t bode well in the workplace.

The elevator stopped on her floor, and before she stepped off, she turned back to look at him. “Have a great day, Dr. Taylor.”

Her arm extended, and Gage looked down at the business card she held in her hand. He immediately accepted the card and wished her a great day, as well. When the doors closed and he was alone, Gage looked down at the card, a smile ghosting his face.

“Miranda,” he said and continued to read the words on the card as the elevator moved again.

She was a radiologist on the third floor. And she was hot. He tucked the card into the side of his briefcase and stepped off the elevator when it opened on his floor. He wasn’t going to call her, Gage told himself. Regardless of how good she looked. He had rules, and he had learned the hard way that it was best to stick to them, always.

“Good morning, Dr. Taylor. Dr. Gogenheim is waiting for you,” the receptionist said when he stopped in front of her. “Just go on back to his office.”

“Thank you,” Gage replied with a nod.

He was known throughout the hospital, a fact that should have bothered him considering he despised his family’s notoriety. But this was different. Gage’s recognition at the hospital came primarily from being a talented doctor who brought huge research grants to the facility and added to their already stellar reputation. The Taylors of Temptation, on the other hand, had commercialized a serious health condition for thousands of couples, and topped that off with a very public betrayal of marriage vows and desertion of a family. It had been the beginning of the worst years of Gage’s life.

Thankfully, that was then and this was now.

He gave a quick knock and then entered the office. Mortimer Gogenheim sat behind his desk, his thinning black hair brushed neatly to one side of his head, thick framed glasses perched on his nose.

“Good morning, Gage. Take a seat,” he said.

Gage nodded and moved to sit in one of the guest chairs across from the sleek, dark wood desk. “Good morning,” Gage replied. “I was surprised you wanted to see me so early. I thought the board meeting was scheduled for this morning.”

Which was why he hadn’t scheduled anything on his personal or business calendar. Gage wanted to be available the moment the board of directors decided he would become the youngest chief of obstetrics at the medical center. With all the research work he’d done this year, coupled with the latest grant that would fund the department’s research labs for the next three years, he was a shoo-in for the position. At least that’s what Mortimer had told him a couple of months ago. After that conversation, Gage was elated that his dream was about to become a reality, much sooner than he had ever anticipated.

“We had the meeting last night over dinner. My son-in-law received a job offer in Europe, so my daughter announced two weeks ago that they were moving over there. My wife was beside herself with worry at not being able to see the grandkids. So I’m stepping down sooner than I’d planned because we’re going to move over there with them,” Mortimer said as he sat forward, letting his arms rest on the desk.

Gage nodded. “Family first,” he said. “I understand.”

He did understand that concept, even if he didn’t have a wife and kids of his own. Outside of his job, Gage only had his family. His five siblings—Gray, Garrek, Gemma, Genevieve “Gen” and Gia—who lived in different areas of the United States. They’d grown up in a tight-knit household, and even though distance separated them, they’d tried to remain as close as their mother always wanted.

“Good,” Mortimer told him with a nod. “So I’ll get right to the point.”

Gage sat up straighter in the chair and thought about how his sisters were going to react when they heard the news. His oldest brother, Gray, was an overachiever himself, becoming one of the first African American billionaires to own and operate his own electronics company before he turned thirty. And Garrek was an exceptional navy pilot who was steadily moving up in the ranks. They were both tenacious and goal-oriented, just like Gage. His sisters each had stellar careers, as well. Gemma owned an upscale beauty salon in Washington, DC, while Gen ran her own software development company, and Gia worked as an executive chef at one of Chicago’s swankiest restaurants.

He’d call Gemma first, he decided as he nodded and stared expectantly at Mortimer. She would never let him live it down if he didn’t.

“The chief position is going to Edgar Rodenstein. He’s been in this field for more than thirty years, and he’s worked with the medical director before. In fact, Bart was the one who recommended Edgar for the job. So we’re confident that the transition will be smooth. You, on the other hand, well, we’re extremely happy with the work you’ve been doing in infertility and multiple birth research. We’d like you to continue in that vein, and we will possibly entertain a chief researcher position for you in the future.”

Gage was stunned. The calm and relaxed feeling he’d had only moments ago as he’d stepped off the elevator had dissipated. It was now replaced with a sick feeling that had him shaking his head.

“Bart—” he began and then corrected himself “—the medical director hand-selected who would work with him?” he asked, and then answered his own question. “Of course he did.”

Because that’s what men like Bart Thomas did when faced with a younger, smarter and more innovative candidate. He selected the guy he knew best, the one he could control under the guise of training, no doubt. Gage was livid.

“I guess that makes sense,” he continued because he had no intention of showing Mortimer how truly upset he was about this development.

Mortimer nodded and cleared his throat. “It makes perfect sense. The board agreed. The transition will begin immediately. We’ll need you to be on hand in case further press conferences or other media appearances are required.”

“I’m not sure that will be possible, Mortimer,” he said before he could completely work through his thoughts. “These past few months have been a little hectic with my research and patient list, combined with the work on the television show. I was actually considering taking some time off.”

Mortimer sat back in his burgundy leather chair, setting his elbows on the arms and clasping his hands. “Really?” he asked and arched a bushy gray-haired brow.

“Yes,” Gage replied, his tone smooth and even, as if this was what he’d planned to say from the moment he walked into the office. “My brother and his wife have just welcomed twins, and I’ve been meaning to get down to Virginia to see them.”

“Well, the arrival of babies is always a festive occasion,” Mortimer said. “Especially in our business.”

Gage chuckled along with him. “Definitely. So I’ll be completing the proper paperwork this morning and briefing the other doctors in my department on my patient statuses.”

“How long do you plan to be away?” Mortimer asked. “The department agreed to work around the shooting schedule for that show because it was good exposure for us to have your name and the hospital’s name running in the credits of a nationally viewed program every week. New-patient visits at the clinic have grown by thirty percent in that time.”

Gage nodded. He didn’t need Mortimer to tell him that he’d been an asset to the medical center. He already knew that. Which was why being passed over for this promotion was a bunch of good-ole-boy crap that Gage did not appreciate.

“I’m aware,” he replied. “Which is why I believe that a three-week vacation is not only warranted, but justified.”

While Gage had adjusted his hours at the medical center during the shooting of Doctor’s Orders, he hadn’t missed a beat with his own patients and had even been on call most of the time while on set, rushing to the medical center to deliver three babies for other doctors who were on vacation. He would wait to see if Mortimer pressed this issue to play that card.

Instead Mortimer nodded, his cool gaze resting on Gage. “You’re right,” he said. “I’d hoped, however, that you would be available to represent the hospital to the media.”

“I’d rather stay out of the media, if at all possible, Mortimer. I’m sure you understand my reasons,” Gage told him.

While he’d been more than excited to have his research paper published and enjoyed the accolades that came his way in the medical industry, Gage did not do media. He never granted interviews and did not appear for photo opportunities or press conferences. Up until this point, Mortimer had been happy to stand with his chest poked out, speaking on behalf of their department.

This was why Gage had been more than surprised when a production assistant from the television network had contacted him with regard to working on a show they were developing. He’d immediately turned them down, thinking they were asking him to star in the show. Gage never wanted to be in front of a camera again. But when he found out the position was simply as a consultant where he could lend his expertise and still stay in the background, he’d agreed.

“Yes,” Mortimer replied. “I do understand.”

“Well, then,” Gage said as he stood. “I’ll head down to congratulate Ed and then take care of the arrangements for my vacation.”

Mortimer stood. “How are you going to adjust for three weeks without being at the hospital?” he asked. “You are your career, Gage.”

Gage nodded because just fifteen minutes ago he’d been telling himself that, as well.

“I’m going to be with my family, Mortimer,” was all he said before walking out of the office.

Gage squared his shoulders and walked as proudly as if he’d just received the best news of his life, down the hall and back to the elevator. As far as his career went, he wasn’t sure what his next step was going to be, but didn’t doubt that he would figure it out. He always did. For now, Gage was going to see Gray and his new nieces and nephews. He was going back to family, the only people he could ever trust and depend on.

Los Angeles

Ava wanted to scream at her mother.

It wasn’t the first time, and she was fairly certain it wouldn’t be the last. But instead of screaming, she used the fact that she was running late for a meeting to get off the phone with Eleanor Cannon. That was only a temporary reprieve, but Ava would take what she could get.

Coffee spilled onto the marble floor as she stepped into the hallway of the Yearling Broadcast Network. Two years ago, when Ava was just twenty-five years old, she’d walked down this same hallway with her heart pounding wildly, her entire life bound in sixty-three typed pages. The TV script for Doctor’s Orders was the result of a year and a half’s work, researching and developing her idea for the new medical drama. She was young and unknown at that time, but had landed the face-to-face meeting with Carroll Fleming through the showrunner for another show where she’d worked as a staff writer. Now Carroll was her current executive at the network after helping her to develop and launch Doctor’s Orders.

Today’s meeting was with Carroll and Jenner Reisling, a development executive at the same network. Ava was going to pitch her new series idea to them and prayed that the success of Doctor’s Orders, currently the network’s number one show on Thursday nights, would add weight to the new pilot following the lives of African American law students navigating their way through school, the professional world and, of course, love.

She was only a few minutes late but hated that just the same. Ava prided herself on being professional at all times. She’d always had to be. As a woman in the television industry, she knew she had to be on her game, no matter what her credentials were.

“I apologize for being late,” she said immediately upon entering the conference room. “I know your time is valuable, so I’m ready to get started.”

Carroll, with his shiny bald head and long, bushy red beard, sat forward in the chair he’d been lounging in.

“Don’t speak of it,” he said, pulling some papers that had been spread across the conference room table into a neat pile. “We were just talking about the ratings for the season finale of Doctor’s Orders.”

“Phenomenal,” Jenner, a slim man with dirty-blond hair and dark brown-framed glasses, said. “As a first year procedural in a really competitive time slot, you knocked it out of the box with this one.”

Ava beamed. That was the praise she’d wanted to hear for the last year. Actually, the last five years, since she’d decided that writing was her niche. She didn’t believe it was conceited at all to like hearing that she’d done a good—no, a great—job with her first network show. Especially after all the critical words she received from her mother in her lifetime. If she’d listened to anything Eleanor Cannon said, Ava doubted she’d be where she was today.

“I’m elated at the show’s success,” she said and pulled three copies of her newest screenplay out of her bag.

The bag was huge and just a little worn around the straps. It was her favorite because it easily accommodated all the necessities she carried with her daily. Today, in addition to the script, she’d added her handheld recorder so she would be sure not to miss anything that was said in this meeting, a second spiral notebook that would be solely dedicated to this screenplay and any additional work she needed to do on it, and her newest pair of reading glasses because she’d accidentally stepped on the old pair when they’d fallen off the desk in her apartment.

“We are, too,” Carroll continued and folded his hands over his stack of papers.

Jenner sat right next to him, smiling across the table at Ava.

“Yes, that’s great,” she continued as she pushed copies of the bound pages toward each of them. When they were both looking down at the cover page, Ava took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“That brings me to this new pitch. Two young African American women spend their weekdays attending competing law schools, drinking and partying on weekends and navigating the murky waters of dating 24/7. This new, vibrant, urban take on sex and young professionals in the city will cater to the twenty-to thirtysomething crowd. A prime time slot would be Sunday evenings. This would be an hour-long show, with a huge draw to advertisers geared toward the female consumer.”

Jenner flipped through the pages of the script and glanced down at them. Carroll did neither. Instead, Ava found him staring at her as he drummed his fingers over his stack of papers.

“We have another idea in mind,” Carroll told her.

Ava was about to open her mouth to speak, but she thought better of it. She always tried to evaluate her words carefully. Something else she’d learned from her mother, or rather because of her mother. Eleanor Cannon said whatever she wanted to say, whenever she wanted to say it. Even if it ended with hurt feelings or offense. Her mother believed that because she was a millionaire, she was entitled to speak her mind and never apologized for doing so. But Ava believed in giving people respect and demanded the same in return.

“I don’t understand,” she replied finally.

“Not that this wouldn’t be great,” Jenner began. “You’ve already proven that you have your finger on the pulse of what viewers want. And your pitch was quite intriguing. But I’m looking for something specific to boost our reality television programming.”

“I see,” Ava said. “I don’t write reality TV shows.”

She rarely even watched them. While they were extremely profitable and most brought in huge ratings and large sums of advertising dollars, they didn’t exhibit the creativity and originality Ava liked to pour into her shows.

“You haven’t yet,” Carroll said, his excited smile spreading widely across his face.

The last time Ava had seen that smile was the day he’d shown up in her trailer on the set in New York to tell her they’d been renewed for a second season. That had been just six hours before she’d returned to her trailer with another man—the man who continued to creep into her thoughts on a daily basis.

“These are notes on the previous show of this kind,” Carroll continued. “We want you to look at these to get a feel for the subject matter.”

“You’ll still have creative freedom to work this out in the way you see fit, but we’re really aiming for the family reunion angle. If you can have a preliminary outline of the show in three months, we’ll be ready to shoot the first pilot right after the first of the year. We already have the time slot selected. It will air at eight o’clock Thursday evening, with its debut on Thanksgiving Day. This will give us time to put a vigorous promotional plan in effect,” Jenner told her.

Carroll was nodding now as he pushed that pile of papers across the table to her.

“Doctor’s Orders is number one in the Thursday at eight slot,” she said slowly, not liking where she felt like this was going.

“We know! We know,” Carroll continued with glee. “That’s why this is so perfect. That’s why you are the perfect one to write this new script.”

“I thought reality shows were supposed to be unscripted,” Ava told him. “If you already have the idea and time slot locked in, you don’t need me.”

Besides, Marcelle, her agent, hadn’t said anything to her about the network wanting her to work on a different project. She’d spoken to her late last night, and they were both pumped about the new pilot idea. Ava wasn’t interested in a reality television show.

“Oh, but we do need you,” Jenner said. “I believe you can bring a fresh slant to this idea and the execution of the show.”

Carroll nodded enthusiastically. “We both believe you can do this, Ava. Especially since you already have a foot in the door with one of the stars of the show,” Carroll continued.

“What are you talking about?” Ava asked. “This is the first I’ve heard of this show at all. How do I know who is starring in it?”

Carroll rubbed his thick fingers together, and Ava could swear his cool gray eyes glowed with excitement.

“His name is Gage Taylor. He just worked on Doctor’s Orders with you,” Carroll said.

Gage Taylor, as in the gorgeous doctor whom she’d spent the last two and a half months acting as if she weren’t attracted to? The man whom she’d finally decided to have once and for all as a celebratory prize for the second season renewal? The guy whom she hadn’t seen since that night, yet had thought about at least once each day in the past two weeks?

“He’s a doctor,” she said after taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “Is this show about doctors? Because I really don’t want to work in the same area. That’s why my new show idea is so different from Doctor’s Orders. One is a procedural drama, while the other will be mostly drama, with lots of sex thrown in.”

“No,” Jenner replied. “This show is not about doctors. It has its own fantastic and totally original idea we’re trying to bring across!” Jenner told her. “It’s a reality television family coming back together thirty years after their original story aired. We’re going to call it The Taylors of Temptation: Remember the Times.”

Ava sat back in her chair and stared at them.

“Thirty years ago, Olivia and Theodor Taylor had the first sextuplets born in the town of Temptation, Virginia. The parents are dead now, but we want to bring the sextuplets together again, in Temptation, to see how their lives have changed,” Jenner told her. “The network is already on board with the concept and you writing it. All you have to do is grab your computer and head out to Temptation to get started.”

She had never heard of The Taylors of Temptation. Probably because she was only twenty-seven, and this show would have originally aired before she was born. Gage Taylor had come to her via recommendation from Daniel, her production assistant, whose wife, Leslie, was one of Gage’s patients. Ava had known they’d need a consultant to make sure the story lines surrounding the doctors and the clinic where they worked was as authentic as possible. So she’d taken Daniel’s and Leslie’s word for how good Gage was and ended up enjoying working with him. A lot.

She folded her hands in her lap and shook her head once more. “I do not write reality television,” she told them again.

This time Carroll’s smile disappeared, and the cold edge of those gray eyes rested solely on her.

“Then you don’t write another show for this network,” he said with finality.

Ava couldn’t breathe. She wanted to curse or kick something...possibly Carroll. Instead she kept her lips tightly clamped.

“Look, Ava, we like you,” Jenner began. “Doctor’s Orders is doing very well, and we’d love to continue working with you. To possibly develop other shows with you in the future. But for right now, this is the show we want. Do you understand?”

She absolutely did. They were giving her an ultimatum. One Ava didn’t know if she could walk away from.

Chapter 2

Temptation, Virginia

One week after the tumultuous meeting at the network, Ava drove a rented fuel-efficient car into the town of Temptation, Virginia.

For the last thirty minutes, her speed had slowed. After passing the large heart-shaped sign with “Welcome to Temptation” written in bright turquoise letters, she’d felt a bit of calm take over. The drive from the airport took a few hours, and she’d hurried at first, driving as if she was on her way to an emergency. She wanted to get this over with.

Except Ava knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. She hated that Jenner and Carroll had given her no choice in this matter. Or rather, she despised that their choice meant she would either have to shop her new idea to another network—and risk news traveling that she was difficult to work with—or do what she was told to do, something she’d sworn she was beyond doing.

Ava was not difficult to work with. Not on the set of the first network series she’d written for, or as the executive producer and writer of her own show. But that didn’t mean Carroll wouldn’t put that rumor out there, just to keep her from working anywhere else in television. That’s how the industry worked. There were lots of intimidation tactics used by those in controlling positions, and Ava was glad that hers had, thankfully, only included a delayed green light of her new show idea. She knew of too many women who had suffered in other ways.

Ava was going to write the treatment for this show. Taking the next step in her career meant that much to her. And while she was sure she could use her family’s influence to work with another network or even to produce her own movie if she wanted to, Ava chose not to do that. She wanted to do this on her own merit, and she would, even if it meant approaching a family who—she’d learned from the research she’d done in the last few days—had done all that they could to stay out of the spotlight.

Mature trees ushered her along the road, standing thick and tall on both sides. The sky was a perfect blue, accompanied by the fluffiest white clouds and shimmers of golden sunlight. She’d cut off the air-conditioning and rolled down the front windows, inhaling deeply the warm, fresh air. In the rearview mirror, looking as if they were somehow following her, were the peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Ava figured they were just as majestic and beautiful up close as they were from this distance.

She wished this excursion would allow time for a hiking trip along some of the famous trails she’d read about during her research of the town. But she was on a tight schedule. Jenner wanted a thirteen-episode outline by Halloween—six weeks from now—and final consent contracts signed by each of the Taylor sextuplets no later than Thanksgiving. This would keep them on schedule for shooting to begin in January. Ava tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused her mind once more on the plan she’d come up with.

Grayson Taylor was the CEO of Taylor Electronics and had recently returned to Temptation, found a wife with twins and renovated the old Victorian house where the original Taylor family had lived thirty years ago. Just three weeks ago, Grayson and his wife, Morgan, had welcomed a second set of twins, giving them a total of four children. Ava couldn’t imagine taking care of anyone but herself—four kids would definitely be out of her league. Grayson and his family would be the key to getting all the siblings on board. She’d concluded that because, as the oldest, he also seemed to be the spokesperson for the Taylor sextuplets.

She made a right turn that landed her on a dirt road and was just about to check her GPS when her phone rang. It was on the console, connected to the charger, and she pressed the button to answer without looking at the screen. She was more concerned with whether or not she’d taken a wrong turn.

“You said you were going to call me back. You didn’t. I despise lies, Ava. You know that.”

Ava rolled her eyes and silently chastised herself for not checking her caller ID before answering.

“Hi, Mom. I’m in the car,” Ava replied because she knew her mother hated her talking on the phone while driving—even if Ava used a Bluetooth.

“Then why are you answering the phone?” Eleanor immediately asked.

Ava smiled.

“I didn’t want to ignore your call. Listen, I should be at the bed-and-breakfast in about twenty minutes. I’ll give you a call as soon as I get settled in.”

“Bed-and-breakfast? Where are you? And who stays in a bed-and-breakfast when there are perfectly acceptable hotels throughout the world?”

Not Eleanor Cannon, that was for sure. Her mother would only stay in the best hotels, drive the fanciest cars, pay a small fortune for the most stylish clothes, and buy whatever else her inherited fortune would allow. Everything her mother did was done with style and grace, while Ava had adopted a more frugal lifestyle that drove Eleanor insane.

“I’m on a research assignment. I’ll give you a call with more details once I’m settled.”

Her mother would want the name of the bed-and-breakfast and a landline number to reach Ava in case cell service suddenly went down worldwide. Being an only child hadn’t been easy for Ava. In the past six years since Ava’s father’s unexpected death Eleanor had become even more overbearing.

“That will be fine. I’ll wait for your call. Drive safely,” Eleanor said before disconnecting.

Ava took that to mean she’d better call her mother back, or Eleanor might send out the cavalry to look for her.

Tossing the headset onto the seat, Ava returned her attention to the GPS. The directions took her down a long cobblestoned street. Hearty mums stuffed in big black pots circled each lamppost. Cute little storefronts had twinkle lights or harvest baskets, pumpkins and gourds decorating their slice of the sidewalk. People moved about, walking slowly and staring at the decorations or what the store had advertised in their front windows, Ava couldn’t tell which. What she saw on their faces, however, was, without a doubt, contentment.

She drove the remaining ten minutes until making the final turn to her destination. The Sunnydale Bed-and-Breakfast was a stately white colonial house with black shutters, nestled in the center of a cul-de-sac and surrounded by a number of beautifully mature trees. It looked like something straight out of Leave It to Beaver or one of those other old black-and-white family shows. Ava favored nostalgic television over today’s modern reality. But while recognizing the need to grow and accept change, she still tried to bring a sense of those old-time family values and simplicity into her writing. A fact, she hated to admit, that would come in handy for this project.

She parked the car and reached over to grab her phone and purse before stepping out. She traveled light, with only one huge duffel bag and her laptop, which she retrieved from the back seat before locking the car and heading up the brick walkway toward the house.

The bed-and-breakfast looked exactly as it had in the brochure, including the chubby shrubs lined up along the perimeter with picture-perfect precision. Ava smiled at the pair of stone bulldog statues guarding the premises as she stepped up onto the porch. Opening the door, she walked inside and was further warmed by the historic charm that continued. Scuffed wood-planked floors, and emerald-green-and-white textured wallpaper stretched throughout the front foyer and along the wall next to a winding glossy cherrywood railing.

She liked it here. Liked the ambience and was glad she’d selected this brochure from the three Saraya, her assistant, had given her. The research trip had been quickly planned once she’d decided to go through with the project. And once that decision was made, Ava had known exactly how she wanted to approach it—straight through the heart.

The Taylors had loved this town and the people who lived here. If Ava were going to write this show, she had to get to know the people here. What they liked, how they lived, what they feared, all of it. Then she’d tackle the Taylor sextuplets.

“Well, hello, ma’am. Welcome to Sunnydale,” an older gentleman said.

He stood behind the front desk—a continuation of the cherrywood, with a black marble top. There was a large fresh flower arrangement toward the end of the desk, closest to the wall, along with a shiny gold bell and a placard on the other end that explained all the forms of payment accepted.

“Hello,” Ava replied. “I have a reservation. My name is Ava Cannon.”

The man never even looked at the computer sitting on the part of the desk that faced a bay window. Instead he stood and came around until he was directly in front of her. He extended his hand and gave a toothy grin.

“I’m Otis,” he said. “Welcome to Sunnydale and to Temptation.”

“Ah, thank you,” Ava said and shook his hand.

He was still holding her hand seconds later when a younger man entered the lobby area.

“The paint’s still wet, but the job’s done, Mr. Otis. I have to head back out to Harper’s place, but just let Nana Lou know we’ll be sending her an invoice in the mail,” the second man said.

There was a big contrast between the two men, and Ava, always one to pay attention to the details, picked up on it immediately. The first man, the older one who had just been called Mr. Otis, wore dark gray pants that were baggy on his slim frame. Black suspenders helped to keep the pants from falling down, and his short-sleeved light blue dress shirt was wrinkled, with a floral trimmed handkerchief in his breast pocket. His skin was a very weathered almond complexion, and his hair—what was left of it—was short, gray and curled close to his scalp.

The second man was much younger, probably in his early to mid-twenties. He was at least six feet tall with a short bush of brown hair, and he wore faded jeans and a plaid shirt with drops of paint all over it.

“Pardon me,” the younger guy said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your check-in.”

They would know instantly that she wasn’t from Temptation, and it had nothing to do with the cream-colored pantsuit she was wearing. Ava had left the jacket to the suit on the back seat of the rental car so that her arms were bare in the peach tank top she wore. Her shoes were comfortable leather flats, and the flashiest piece of jewelry she wore was the diamond tennis bracelet her father had given her as an eighteenth birthday present.

No, they knew she wasn’t from here because they knew everybody in this town. She could see it by the way they were assessing her.

“Hi. I’m Ava Cannon,” she said and was finally able to ease her hand away from Mr. Otis’s grip. She extended it to the young man, who smiled as he shook it.

“I’m Craig Presley,” he said. “Welcome to Temptation.”

“Thank you,” Ava said. Both of them were actually very welcoming and genuine.

“No thanks necessary. In fact, since you’re new to town, I would like to personally offer my services to show you around,” he said.

Craig Presley had a nice smile and warm, happy eyes. He was cute and friendly, but he wasn’t her type. Nor was hooking up with a guy in this town on her agenda.

“Presley? Are you any relation to a Harper Presley?”

“Yes,” Craig replied. “Harper’s my cousin. Are you looking to have a house renovated or built? Presley Construction can definitely take care of that for you. We’re the best in town. Here, let me get you a card.”

He was digging into his back pocket now, pulling out his wallet as he hunted for a card.

Mr. Otis scratched the side of his head. “If you’re thinking about planting roots here in Temptation, you should talk to Fred Randall about purchasing some land or a house. Then you get in contact with Harper. She’s a wisp of a pretty gal, and she’s mighty talented, too,” Mr. Otis stated.

“I’m just visiting,” Ava said and then thought quickly of something else. “But I like what I’ve seen of this town so far.” She shrugged. “Would be nice to maybe have a vacation home here.”

Craig handed her a card. “Then Presley Construction is definitely here to work with you. Phone numbers, email and address are on the card. Harper does all the intake for new clients. I can introduce you to her. I just need to make a quick trip back to the warehouse and clean up a bit. Then I would love to take you to dinner to tell you more about Temptation.”

Ava looked down at the card and nodded. Harper may be the head of Presley Construction, but she was also the fiancée of Garrek Taylor, the navy pilot. How lucky was she to have made this connection to the Taylor family so quickly?

“Or she can just take a little walk down Sycamore Lane. Three blocks past the traffic light and to the left—you’ll probably bump right into Harper at Gray Taylor’s house. They’re having a barbecue tonight.”

And the luck just continued to flow, Ava thought with a smile.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family gathering. I can just call tomorrow to schedule an appointment.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Otis said. “Nana Lou baked some cookies for Jack and Lily. I told her I’d run them over there, but you can deliver them in my place. Gives you the perfect opportunity to meet up with Harper.”

It certainly did. Almost too perfect, but Ava decided she would take it. This wasn’t LA or New York; people here were just friendly, she reminded herself. Nobody was going to be suspicious if a stranger just showed up with a plate of cookies. At least she hoped not.

“Tell Harper I sent you to her,” Craig added. “I’ll take a rain check for dinner.”

Ava found herself liking Craig Presley because she could definitely relate to his tenacity.

“I sure will,” she said. “Thanks, Craig, and you, too, Mr. Otis.”

Craig headed out, leaving Ava and Otis alone.

“Like Craig said before, no thanks necessary, ma’am,” Otis replied with a shake of his head. “I’ll just run out to the kitchen to get those cookies for you. Then I’ll take your bags up to your room.”

“That would be great,” Ava told him. “Oh, wait, don’t you need to swipe my credit card, get my ID or have me sign something?”

Otis chuckled. “I can get all that when you come back. If you’re thinking of getting a place here, we definitely don’t want to put that off.”

No, Ava did not want to put off the beginning of her second phase of research. She smiled and thanked Otis once more. She hadn’t been in Temptation for more than an hour, and already she was on her way to getting this story done.

Gage had been in Temptation for two days and he was already dressed down in basketball shorts, a T-shirt and tennis shoes. Garrek’s fiancée, Harper, hit the volleyball with a force Gage wasn’t expecting, and he ran backward in order to save the shot. He tripped over something and fell back instead.

And then she was there.

“Hello, Dr. Taylor,” she said with that smile that never failed to take his breath away.

She stared down at him, dark hair framing her pretty face, a light pink gloss on her soft lips. And Gage thought he must be dreaming.

“Ava?”

He moved quickly, coming to stand in front of her.

“I think you were trying to catch this,” she said and gave a light kick to the ball he’d been after.

Gage put his foot on the ball to stop it from rolling, but did not take his eyes off her. She looked amazing, her long legs clad in cream-colored pants, the formfitting peach blouse and all that thick hair hanging past her shoulders. He’d forgotten how sexy she was.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said and then asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Delivering cookies,” she replied and held up a plate covered in foil.

“All the way from New York or LA or wherever you live?” he asked.

It may have seemed like an odd statement since this was the last woman he’d had sex with. In a perfect world, he would have known more about her besides her last name and professional occupation. But in Gage’s world, it was the norm. He didn’t need to know much about the women he slept with, because he never intended there to be anything beyond the physical. It was easier that way.

“I’m ah...on a kind of retreat,” she replied. “A writing retreat.”

He nodded, noting the plausibility of her response, but still wondering how, of all the places in the world, Ava Cannon would turn up in Temptation.

“And a cookie delivery service?”

She looked down at the plate and then up to him again.

“They’re from someone named Nana Lou. Mr. Otis at the B and B said she promised to make them for Jack and Lily.”

Gage frowned. “Who?”

He’d come to Temptation to be with his family and so hadn’t met many people living in the town.

“Nana Lou is like our grandmother, but not really. She bakes the best double chocolate chip cookies ever,” Lily said.

The precocious seven-year-old girl appeared, leaning against Gage’s leg.

“You’re hogging the ball, Uncle Gage,” she continued before bending down to take the ball he still had under his foot.

“You must be Lily,” Ava said, her attention shifting to the little girl Gage had been thoroughly enchanted by in the last couple of days.

He’d come back to Temptation to meet Gray’s new family and had been amazed at how much he adored the children. Sure, he delivered babies for a living, and he studied ways to help every woman wishing to have a baby fulfill her dream. But Gage didn’t think of becoming a father himself. Still, not even the smiling faces of youth, or the pure sweetness of babies, had been able to erase the thoughts of his one night with Ava. In fact, it had been all those things combined that kept Gage from thinking about his career situation.

“I am Lily, and this is my Uncle Gage. I have another uncle—his name’s Garrek—but he’s away flying planes right now.”

“Oh, that sounds cool. These cookies smell amazing, Lily. Do you think I could try one?” Ava asked.

“Sure. Mommy won’t let me and Jack have more than one for dessert. But Jack doesn’t like to share, so you should take yours now.”

“Hey, guys, Morgan is calling us in for dinner,” Harper said as she joined them. “Oh. Hi,” she added to Ava.

“Hello,” Ava replied. “I’m Ava Cannon. I’m in town for a writing retreat and was told to deliver these cookies.”

“And she’s Uncle Gage’s friend,” Lily added.

Gage didn’t know what to say. Hence the reason he’d been standing there watching the exchange between his niece and his ex-boss-slash-one-night-stand.

“Hi, Ava. I’m Harper Presley.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Harper. I met your cousin Craig when I was checking in to the B and B. He gave me your card.”

“Really?” Harper asked. “Do you have a house that needs to be renovated?”

“No,” Gage replied quickly. “She’s just here to write.”

Harper, with her sandy-brown hair pulled back from her face, arched a brow as she looked at him.

“You two know each other?” she asked.

Before Gage could answer, his legs almost buckled once more as a laughing seven-year-old ran into him.

“Come on, Uncle Gage, you’re gonna make us lose,” Jack said.

“You already lost. He fell, and the lady got the ball. That means the girls win. Right, Aunt Harper?” Lily asked.

“I’m calling interference,” Gage told Jack. “We’ll need a rematch.”

Lily pouted, and to Gage’s chagrin, Ava knelt down until she was face-to-face with his niece.

“Boys always try to cheat. I think he fell on purpose so he could ask for a rematch,” she said.

A mutinous Lily nodded her agreement. “I think so, too.”

Harper chuckled. “Okay, we’ll have a rematch, but Morgan has dinner ready. You two run along and wash your face and hands so we can eat.”

Thankful to Harper for getting rid of the children, Gage turned his attention back to Ava. It was close to six o’clock in the evening, and the sun was beginning to set; still, the last fading rays cast Ava’s creamed-coffee-toned skin in a golden hue that looked surreal. Or maybe it was because this was the first time he’d seen her outside of the sultry dreams that plagued him each night in the last few weeks.

“Why don’t you join us for dinner, Ava? Gray and Morgan always cook a ton, and since you’re a friend of Gage’s, you should definitely be here to help us celebrate his homecoming,” Harper said.

The gratitude Gage had just felt toward his soon-to-be sister-in-law dissipated as he turned from Ava to look at Harper with a frown.

“I’d love to,” Ava happily replied.

“Great, Gage will bring you up to the house,” Harper said. “I’ll just go and tell Gray and Morgan to set another place at the table.”

When Harper was about to walk away, Ava spoke again. “I really appreciate the offer. I’ve been traveling all day, and I don’t even know if my room at the bed-and-breakfast is ready yet. I just dropped my bags off and came straight here.”

Gage touched her elbow to stop her from following behind Harper.

“Why would you come here? How did you know where here was?” he asked, because no matter how his body was reacting to seeing her again, his mind was still suspicious.

Old habits were hard to break.

A breeze swept by, and Ava eased her arm from his grasp. She pushed her blowing hair behind her ears. And Gage thought he’d never seen anyone as pretty as she was at this moment.

“Small towns are great for writing retreats. Meeting Craig at the B and B and Mr. Otis having cookies that needed to be delivered were coincidences,” she said.

Gage watched her lips moving as she spoke and listened to the slightly husky timbre of her voice. Not only did he listen, but he felt as if that voice, her words, somehow touched a part of him. It was ridiculous, he knew, yet...he decided to believe her. It wasn’t that big of a deal. She could go wherever she wanted without needing his permission. Just because she ended up here, at the same time he was, didn’t mean anything. He needed to stop being so suspicious all the time.

“I would have never expected you to be here,” he replied.

“It’s work,” she said. “Everything I do is about my work.”

Gage could definitely relate to that. In contrast to her writing retreat, however, he had been taking the last couple of days to think about things other than his career. She was one of those things, even though he’d called himself a thousand fools for thinking about a one-time fling weeks later.

“But I can go if it’s weird for you,” she continued.

Was it weird for him?

Considering he hadn’t expected to see her again until it was time to start shooting the second season of the show, maybe. Realizing that his body had already begun reacting to seeing her—via the beginning of an erection as his gaze dipped from her big brown eyes to the unmistakable curve of her full breasts in that tight blouse—hell no, this wasn’t weird at all.

“It’s cool,” he replied. “But we’d better get going. From what I understand, my sister-in-law, Morgan, does everything based on a schedule these days. Something about having a set of twins in elementary school in addition to a set of newborn twins and coveting any sleep she can get.”

“Two sets of twins?” Ava asked with an incredulous look on her face.

Gage nodded and smiled. He ignored the burst of pride that spread throughout his chest as he looked toward the house and the back porch, where his family had begun to assemble at the table to eat the celebratory meal. Gage never talked about his family to anyone because he liked to believe they belonged to only him. Not a part of the world, the way his father had tried to make the sextuplets.

“Yes,” he continued and began walking toward the house. “My older brother Gray is married to Morgan, an elementary school teacher. They have a boy and a girl, Jack and Lily, who you just met. Ryan and Emma are the new babies. Do you like babies, Ava?”

She shrugged as she walked beside him.

“I never thought about it,” she said and then looked at him with a sinfully delicious smile. “I like how babies are made, though.”

The semi-erection that Gage had been trying to ignore grew instantly as he recalled her smiling up at him that night he’d moved between her legs and thrust his length deep inside of her. She’d told him how much she liked it that night, and Gage would swear that the smile she was giving him now was meant as a reminder.

“Yeah,” he said grinning back at her. “So do I.”

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