CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
* * *
Rufus stood a moment at Averil’s door. There were lights inside the house and he knew they were home, even if James hadn’t told him so when he’d returned from the police house. His uncle had been over the moon, gabbling about Beth and how happy he was. Eustace was there, too, and Rufus mentioned dryly that he believed they had promised him they’d stay at the castle, but both his son and his uncle were practiced prevaricators.
“Have you seen Averil yet?” Eustace demanded, when James had finally run out of things to say.
“I’m seeing her tonight.”
Eustace nodded, giving him a narrowed look. “You’ll need to smarten yourself up a bit, Papa.”
Rufus, who was still wearing his disguise, agreed.
Now here he was, clean and smart, looking every inch an earl, and he still hesitated to ring the bell. When he thought of the expression in Averil’s eyes, as she stood looking up at him in that dingy kitchen at The Tin Soldier, he was hopeful that everything would turn out the way he wanted it to. But then he remembered the scene at the castle, when she had walked away from him, and was cast into doubt once more.
If her answer hadn’t meant so much to him he wouldn’t be so anxious. The thought of a life without her in it was almost unbearable. With a soft groan he finally reached up and rang the bell.
The maid opened the door and peered up at him.
“Lord Southbrook to see Lady Averil,” he said brusquely. “I have some important news for her.”
“Oh. Lord, eh. I’ll just . . .” And she hurried off. Rufus sighed, expecting to be told to go away, but she was back a moment later, informing him that Lady Averil would speak to him in the parlor and to please follow her.
There was a fire in the parlor and a lamp turned down low on a side table. He removed his hat and coat, and then went over to the hearth to stare into the flames. She was going to speak to him then, at least that was something. Although listening to him might be another matter entirely.
He recognized her steps approaching, and then the door opened and there she was. She was wearing a plain blue dress with a single row of lace at the neckline, and her hair was fashioned into a simple knot on top of her head. But then she didn’t need adornments; she was beautiful enough without them.
“Lord Southbrook,” she said, and he thought she was struggling to sound as if she didn’t find it surprising he had called upon her at such an odd time.
“Lady Averil.” He bowed. “I have something to tell you and I thought you would want to hear it as soon as possible.”
She tipped her head slightly to the side, searching his face with her straight, clear gaze. Oh God, how he had missed that look. How he had missed her.
“What is it?”
“I’ve found your sister, Averil.”
She blinked, and then she smiled. “It’s Violet,” she said.
“How did you know?” He was surprised and perhaps a little peeved that his grand gesture had fallen flat. “Sally Jakes has only just confessed it to me.”
Averil reached into the pocket of her dress and drew out a folded letter, handing it to him. He took it and slowly unfolded it, watching the firelight flicker over her face, reflecting the gold specks in her gray eyes. He took a moment to cast his gaze over the appalling writing, but he was able to read enough to understand what had happened.
“Sally admitted it at the police house,” he said, returning the letter. “Violet was your mother’s child and she asked Sally to care for her, according to Sally. Anastasia was afraid Percival Arnutt’s parents would turn the child against her, at least that’s what Sally says. I think she just wanted something of your mother’s, either because she was jealous of her or because she loved her. Both, perhaps.”
Averil sighed. “I’m so glad I know now. I’m so glad I’ve found her. And do you know,” she added, leaning toward him in a confidential manner, “I like her. She’s a brave and good girl, she cares about other people, and she wants to help them. And I can help her to do that. If she’ll let me,” she added wryly. “I think Violet is the sort of person who may object to me wanting to share my inheritance. She’ll see it as charity.”
Rufus laughed softly. “You’ll be able to persuade her.”
She smiled back. “I hope so.”
“Actually I have something for you and Violet. From Sally.”
He removed the crumpled, folded sheet of paper from his pocket. Averil took it as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. She straightened it gingerly and held it to the light. Her gaze ran down the lines to the signature at the bottom and her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Your mother wrote it before she died, Averil. Sally kept it all these years.”
Averil didn’t seem to hear him. She had begun to read.
“My dear ones, forgive me. I did not realize when I ran away with Percy that I would not have the chance to make matters right. That things could go so very wrong so quickly. I suppose it is what I deserve. But I loved him so, and I was always one to follow my heart. Averil, I should never have married your father. There I erred. We were so different and I think I believed his sober influence would steady me. Instead I felt suffocated. Forgive me. And Rose, my baby, think of me sometimes and know my biggest regret now is leaving you without your mama. I have asked Sally to care for you and to tell you every day about me, so you don’t forget. Forgive me, my girls, and think of me sometimes as I will think of you, always.
“Anastasia.”
Averil’s eyes were filled with tears. She blinked and then wiped the tip of her finger beneath her eyes. She took a deep, steadying breath.
There was a pause, but before he could launch into the other reason for his being there, Averil spoke again.
“Thank you for coming to tell me. Thank you for letting me read my mother’s last thoughts. You’ve done exactly as you promised. I’m grateful. And the Home,” she hurried on, looking away, fiddling with the buttons on her sleeves. “If you hadn’t found out what Jackson and Sally Jakes were up to . . . well, we might have lost many more women.”
“Averil . . .”
“And Gareth was so worried, what with everything else that has been happening. The baroness. And then—”
“Averil, stop. There’s something else I want to say.”
She froze, her lips parted, her eyes wide. “Some-something else?”
The way he was looking at her was making her agitated, and she’d been so calm up until now. Even when she read that heartbreaking letter. His dark eyes slid over her face, pausing on her lips as if he wanted to kiss her. Averil tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was she who wanted to kiss him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss him and let him touch her as he had the day of the storm.
There had been times since then when she’d awoken in the night, aching for his touch in a way that made her want to weep, wanting to hold him and say all the things to him that were in her heart. And now here he was, in the flesh, and she was struggling to keep her distance.
“Averil,” he said, and his voice dropped into that deeper register that sent tingles over her skin. “We parted at the castle in a way that has troubled me ever since.”
He was going to apologize. Averil felt her spirits sink. He felt sorry for her and now that his uncle was marrying Beth he wanted to be on good terms with her. Distant acquaintances. She really couldn’t bear it.
“There’s no need,” she said briskly. “I like to think that is all past and we can move on with our lives. Our separate lives.”
“Our separate lives?”
She stood up. She couldn’t seem to sit still anymore. And besides, she might begin to cry in a ridiculous manner, and then he’d feel the need to comfort her and she might well do something reprehensible. Like kiss him.
He stood up, too, and took her hands. He held them tightly to still her fidgeting. He was very close suddenly, and her heart was beating so quickly she wondered if it would leap out of her chest.
“Averil, I am selling the castle. I am selling the house in Mayfair. We’ve agreed between us, James and Eustace and me. The money is no longer important to me.”
“Oh.” It was all she could manage. His lovely castle! How could he bear to give it up, and why was he?
“Marry me, Averil. I love you. I love you. I don’t want your money, I never did. James talked me into the whole thing, and although I went along with it, I was always worried it would come back to haunt me. I fell in love with you and then you found out about the debts, and you thought I only wanted you for your fortune. I don’t.”
He looked flushed and anxious, and his eyes were fixed on her as if he expected her to laugh in his face.
“You’re giving up your castle?” she whispered.
“And the Mayfair house. The lot. I won’t be a wealthy man, but I’ll have enough to offer you a respectable life, and without touching a penny of your fortune. That’s for you to do with as you wish.”
He was giving everything up. He was giving it up for her. To prove that he loved her.
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. Her smile transformed her face, and when he saw it, suddenly he was smiling, too, and she did what she’d wanted to do all along. She flung herself into his arms.
His beautiful Averil was in his arms, her face turned to his, her arms about his neck tugging him down. Instead he lifted her, her feet dangling above the floor, and kissed her as wildly and passionately as he’d been dreaming of.
“I love you,” he groaned. “Averil, don’t ever leave me again.”
“I won’t, I won’t,” she muttered feverishly, planting little hot kisses over his face, finally finding his mouth.
Ah, this was what he wanted, he thought, and prepared to delve into the warm, sweet depths with his tongue.
There was the sound of the door to the parlor opening and then something huge knocked against him, almost sending him sprawling. He turned, his arms still around Averil, and found himself looking into Hercules’s excited face, and there behind the dog, his son.
“Oh good,” Eustace said, smiling widely. “You did it, Papa! Averil, you’re going to marry him, aren’t you? I was so worried he’d mess it up again.”
Rufus groaned and sank down into the chair. Hercules tried to lick him, but Eustace wisely tugged the dog away. Averil looked from one to the other of them, and then she laughed.
“Oh dear, I can see that by marrying one of the Southbrooks I will be marrying them all.”
“Not marrying us,” Eustace retorted a little scornfully, “but perhaps you will be my-my mother?” He looked at her anxiously. “Will you, Averil?”
Rufus watched her rest her hand gently on his son’s head. “I think I’d like that,” she told him.
“Good,” the earl said, “that’s sorted out. Now can we have some time alone, Eustace? And take that monster with you.”
Eustace grinned and began to drag Hercules from the room.
“No, wait.” Averil touched Rufus’s sleeve, her fingers clinging as if she didn’t want to let go. “There’s something I want to say. To you both.”
What now? Rufus wondered. He didn’t want any more hurdles to jump over. He’d given up his Southbrook inheritance spanning centuries for the woman he loved, and she’d accepted him. He wanted to wallow in the sweetness of the moment and start planning for their years together.
“I know how much Southbrook Castle means to you,” Averil said, her chin up, as if she expected opposition. “I rather like it myself. In fact I envy you both such a wonderful home, and all the history that goes with it. Rufus”—and she looked at him—“I never begrudged the money you wanted to spend on your castle. It wasn’t that. It was the fact that you didn’t tell me, that you weren’t honest.”
“Averil—”
“That you are willing to give it up, all of it, for me . . . That makes all the difference. Don’t sell your castle or your Mayfair home. We’ll need somewhere to live, and Eustace must have his inheritance. I have a great deal of money, enough for everyone.”
Eustace gave a shout of glee and went running from the room, presumably to tell Uncle James, who was no doubt lurking about somewhere. Rufus looked at his beloved and shook his head.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Averil. You should think very hard before—”
“I have. I want to do it. I want to sit by the lake with you on summer evenings and climb the stairs to the tower in the winter, and watch the weather coming in from the North Sea.”
“Storms?” he murmured, his mouth quirking into a smile.
Her eyes brightened. “I’ll need you to comfort me, won’t I? Are there a great many storms at Southbrook Castle?”
“A very great many.”
“Oh . . .” she whispered.
He kissed her then, and this time they were not interrupted.
EPILOGUE
* * *
“Is she ready?”
Averil heard Eustace’s loud whisper at the door, followed by Violet’s reply, “Nearly.”
“Papa is getting restless,” Rufus’s son added.
“She’ll be there in just a moment.”
Averil smiled as Violet returned to her side. The girl was dressed in pale blue silk that matched her eyes, and her fair hair was interwoven with flowers. “Rosebuds for a Violet,” Averil said with a laugh.
Violet had taken some persuading that she was not Sally Jakes’s daughter, although she’d later admitted that that was because she’d been afraid to let herself believe something so wonderful in case it was snatched away from her again. But Averil and Rufus had convinced her, with the help of Anastasia’s letter, and then when the locket was finally repaired and opened, they had found a scrap of pink ribbon inside it, and Violet had taken one look at it and burst into tears.
It turned out it was from a favorite dress she’d had when she was tiny, and she remembered it all these years later. Who else but Anastasia, her true mother, would have such a memento inside her locket?
Violet had agreed she would help Averil with the Home, and the dower house, which was to become a place of sanctuary for the women and children they saved, but she had a mind of her own. She would not be told what to do, and Averil liked that about her. She rather thought she was similar herself.
“I think Sally changed my name,” Violet spoke now. “I was probably Rose at first, but Sally preferred Violet. She even told me so once, that it was her favorite flower.”
“I like Violet,” Averil retorted, “whoever gave you the name. Perhaps you could be Violet Rose?”
“Violet Rose Arnutt.” Violet had a faraway look in her eyes. She’d recently been reunited with her father’s family and she had told Averil that she couldn’t believe how kind they’d been. How kind everyone had been.
“I never would have stopped looking for you, you know,” Averil said softly.
Violet smiled. “I know.”
Averil stepped back, striking a pose. “How do I look? Will I do, do you think?”
Violet gave her sister’s wedding dress a final glance. The silk was beautiful, and the pearls sewn into the bodice and skirt seemed to catch the light in a warm glow that was reflected in Averil’s face. She was happy, and this was the beginning of her new life.
“You will do,” Violet assured her. “Now we’d better go down before Eustace sends Hercules up to fetch you.”
They walked together along the gallery, toward the stairs that led down into the medieval great hall. The castle was full of flowers and their scent wafted up to Averil as she paused at the top of the stairs. Below she could see the guests, some well-known faces and others she would grow to know. Beth and James were there, smiling up at her, and she felt a new flood of happiness wash over her at the sight of their own joy in each other.
Douglas McInnes was there, his gaze resting on Violet, and Gareth with several of the women from the Home who had asked to come. Her friends from Miss Debenham’s were present, too, and she knew there would be many questions thrown at her when she had a moment alone with them.
The fact that there were few members of polite society present did not bother her. She still had plans to reinstate the Southbrooks to the position they once held, before Rufus fell from grace, but there was plenty of time for that. The people she loved and valued were here today, and that was all that really mattered.
Averil began her journey down the stairs and there he was, waiting to take her hand. Her wicked earl. So handsome in his wedding attire, his dark hair brushing his shoulders and his dark eyes alight with love.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers squeezing hers. “I thought so the night I first saw you. At the opera. Do you remember?”
“Yes. I think-I think I might have loved you from that moment, Rufus. I never believed in love at first sight, but I felt as if . . .”
“As if there would never be anyone else,” he finished for her, and bent down to kiss her gently on the lips.
A cheer went up from the guests, and flushed and beaming, Averil clung to her earl’s arm as he led her into their future.
ABOUTTHE AUTHOR
* * *
SARA BENNETT has always had an interest in history, and to survive a series of mind-numbing jobs, she turned to writing historical romance. She lives in an old house with her husband and animals too numerous to mention, in the state of Victoria, Australia, where she tries to keep the house and garden tidy, but rarely succeeds—she’d rather be writing or reading. Find Sara online at www.sara-bennett.com or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/SARA-BENNETT/112854572767.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also by Sara Bennett
Sin With a Scoundrel
To Pleasure a Duke
A Most Sinful Proposal
Led Astray by a Rake
Her Secret Lover
A Seduction in Scarlet
Mistress of Scandal
The Rules of Passion
Lessons in Seduction
Kissing the Bride
Beloved Highlander
Once He Loves
The Rose and the Shield
The Lily and the Sword
Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at four brand-new
e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
THE LAST WICKED SCOUNDREL
ASCOUNDRELS OF ST.JAMES NOVELLA
By Lorraine Heath
BLITZING EMILY
ALOVE AND FOOTBALL NOVEL
By Julie Brannagh
SAVOR
ABILLIONAIRE BACHELORS CLUB NOVEL
By Monica Murphy
IF YOU ONLY KNEW
ATRUST NO ONE NOVEL
By Dixie Lee Brown
An Excerpt from
THE LAST WICKED SCOUNDREL
A Scoundrels of St. James Novella
by Lorraine Heath
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lorraine Heath brings us the eagerly awaited final story in the Scoundrels of St. James series.
Winnie, the Duchess of Avendale, never knew peace until her brutal husband died. With William Graves, a royal physician, she’s discovered burning desire—and the healing power of love. But now, confronted by the past she thought she’d left behind, Winnie must face her fears . . . or risk losing the one man who can fulfill all her dreams.
After last night, she’d dared to hope that she meant something special to him, but they were so very different in rank and purpose. She considered suggesting that they go for a walk now, but she didn’t want to move away from where she was. So near to him. He smelled of sandalwood. His jaw and cheeks were smooth. He’d shaved before he came to see her. His hair curled wildly about his head, and she wondered if he ever tried to tame it, then decided he wouldn’t look like himself without the wildness.
With his thumb, he stroked her lower lip. His blue eyes darkened. She watched the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed. Leaning in, he lowered his mouth to hers. She rose up on her toes to meet him, inviting him to possess, plunder, have his way. She became lost in the sensations of his mouth playing over hers, vaguely aware of his twisting her around so they were facing each other. As she skimmed her hands up over his shoulders, his arms came around her, drawing her nearer. He was a man of nimble fingers, skilled hands that eased hurts and injuries and warded off death. He had mended her with those hands, and now with his lips he was mending her further.
Suddenly changing the angle of his mouth, he deepened the kiss, his tongue hungrily exploring, enticing her to take her own journey of discovery. He tasted of peppermint. She could well imagine him keeping the hard candies in his pocket to hand to children in order to ease their fears. Snitching one for himself every now and then.
He folded his hands around the sides of her waist and, without breaking his mouth from hers, lifted her onto the desk. Parchment crackled beneath her. She knew she should be worried that they were ruining the plans for the hospital, but she seemed unable to care about anything beyond the wondrous sensations that he was bringing to life.
Avendale had never kissed her with such enthusiasm, such resolve. She felt as though William were determined to devour her, and that it would be one of the most wondrous experiences of her life.
Hiking her skirts up over her knees, he wedged himself between her thighs. Very slowly, he lowered her back to the desk until she was sprawled over it like some wanton. On the desk! She had never known this sort of activity could occur anywhere other than the bed. It was wicked, exciting, intriguing. Surely he didn’t mean to do more than kiss her, not that she was opposed to him going further.
She’d gone so long without a caress, without being desired, without having passions stirred. She felt at once terrified and joyful while pleasure curled through her.
As he dragged his mouth along her throat, he began undoing buttons, giving himself access to more skin. He nipped at her collarbone, circled his tongue in the hollow at her throat. She plowed her fingers through his golden locks, relishing the soft curls as they wound around her fingers.
More buttons were unfastened. She sighed as he trailed his mouth and tongue along the upper swells of her breasts. Heat pooled deep within her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, taking surcease from the pressure of him against her. He moaned low, more a growl than anything as he pressed a kiss in the dip between her breasts.
God help her, but she wanted to feel his touch over all of her.
Peeling back her bodice, he began loosening the ribbons on her chemise. In the distance, someplace far far away, she thought she heard a door open.
“The count—” Her butler began and stopped.
“Winnie?” Catherine’s voice brought her crashing back to reality.
An Excerpt from
BLITZING EMILY
A Love and Football Novel
by Julie Brannagh
All’s fair in Love and Football . . .
Emily Hamilton doesn’t trust men. She’s much more comfortable playing the romantic lead in front of a packed house onstage than in her own life. So when NFL star and alluring ladies’ man Brandon McKenna acts as her personal white knight, she has no illusions that he’ll stick around. However, a misunderstanding with the press throws them together in a fake engagement that yields unexpected (and breathtaking) benefits in the first installment of Julie Brannagh’s irresistible new series.
Emily had barely enough time to hang up the cordless and flip on the TV before Brandon wandered down the stairs.
“Hey,” he said, and he threw himself down on the couch next to her.
His blond curls were tangled, his eyes sleepy, and she saw a pillowcase crease on his cheek. He looked completely innocent, until she saw the wicked twinkle in his eyes. Even in dirty workout clothes, he was breathtaking. She wondered if it was possible to ovulate on demand.
“I’m guessing you took a nap,” she said.
“I was supposed to be watching you.” He tried to look penitent. It wasn’t working.
“Glad to know you’re making yourself comfortable,” she teased.
He stretched his arm around the back of the couch.
“Everything in your room smells like flowers, and your bed’s great.” He pulled up the edge of his t-shirt and sniffed it. Emily almost drooled at a glimpse of his rock-hard abdomen. Evidently, it was possible to have more than a six pack. “The guys will love my new perfume. Maybe they’ll want some makeup tips,” he muttered, and grabbed for the remote Emily left on the coffee table.
He clicked through the channels at a rapid pace.
“Excuse me. I had that.” She lunged for it. No such luck. Emily ended up sprawled across his lap.
“The operative word here, sugar, is ‘had.’ ” He held it up in the air out of her reach while he continued to click. He’d wear a hole in his thumb if he kept this up. “No NFL Network.” She tried to sit up again, which wasn’t working well. Of course, he was chuckling at her struggles. “Oh, I get it. You’re heading for second base.”
“Hardly.” Emily reached over and tried to push off on the other arm of the couch. One beefy arm wrapped around her. “I’m not trying to do anything. Oh, whatever.”
“You know, if you want a kiss, all you have to do is ask.”
She couldn’t imagine how he managed to look so innocent while smirking.
“I haven’t had a woman throw herself in my lap for a while now. This could be interesting,” he said.
Emily’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I did not throw myself in your lap.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Which one of us is—”
“Let go of me.” She was still trying to grab the remote, without success.
“You’ll fall,” he warned.
“What’s your point?”
“Here.” He stuck the remote down the side of the couch cushion so Emily couldn’t grab it. He grasped her upper arms, righted her with no effort at all, and looked into her eyes. “All better. Shouldn’t you be resting, anyway?”
Emily tried to take a breath. Their bodies were frozen. He held her, and she gazed into his face. His dimple appeared, vanished, appeared again. She licked her lips with the microscopic amount of moisture left in her mouth. He was fighting a smile, but even more, he dipped his head toward her. He was going to kiss her.
“Yes,” she said.
Her voice sounded weak, but it was all she could do to push it out of lungs that had no air at all. He continued to watch her, and he gradually moved closer. Their mouths were inches apart. Emily couldn’t stop looking at his lips. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, he released her and dug the remote from the couch cushion. She felt a stab of disappointment. He had changed his mind.
“Turns out you have the NFL Network, so I think I can handle another twenty-four hours here,” he announced as he stopped on a channel she’d never seen before.
“You might not be here another twenty-four minutes. Don’t you have a TV at home?” She wrapped her arms around her midsection. She wished she could come up with something more witty and cutting to say. She was so sure he would kiss her, and then he hadn’t.
An Excerpt from
SAVOR
A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel
by Monica Murphy
New York Times bestselling author Monica Murphy concludes her sexy Billionaire Bachelors Club series with a fiery romance that refuses to be left at the office.
Bryn James can’t take much more of being invisible to her smart, sexy boss, Matthew DeLuca. Matt’s never been immune to his gorgeous assistant’s charms, and though he’s tried to stay professional, Bryn—with a jaw-dropping new look—is suddenly making it very difficult. And when the lines between business and pleasure become blurred, he’ll be faced with the biggest risk of his career—and his heart.
Bryn
“I shouldn’t do this.” He’s coming right at me, one determined step after another, and I slowly start to back up, fear and excitement bubbling up inside me, making it hard to think clearly.
“Shouldn’t do what?”
I lift my chin, my gaze meeting his, and I see all the turbulent, confusing emotions in his eyes, the grim set of his jaw and usually lush mouth. The man means business—what sort of business I’m not exactly sure, but I can take a guess. Increasing my pace, I take hurried backward steps to get away from all that handsome intensity coming at me until my butt meets the wall.
I’m trapped. And in the best possible place too.
“You’ve been driving me f*cking crazy all night,” he practically growls, stopping just in front of me.
I have? I want to ask, but I keep my lips clamped tight. He never seems to notice me, not that I ever really want him to. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself. That sort of thing usually brings too much unwanted attention. I’ve dealt with that sort of trouble before, and it nearly destroyed me.
The more time I spend with my boss though, the more I want him to see me. Really see me as a woman. Not the dependable, efficiently organized Miss James who makes his life so much easier.
I want Matt to see me as a woman. A woman he wants.
Playing with fire. . .
The thought floating through my brain is apt, considering the potent heat in Matt’s gaze.
“I don’t understand how I could be, considering I’ve done nothing but work my tail off the entire evening,” I retort, wincing the moment the words leave me. I blame my mounting frustration over our situation. I’m tired, I’ve done nothing but live and breathe this winery opening for the last few weeks, and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed. Pull the covers over my head and sleep for a month.
But if a certain someone wanted to join me in my bed, there wouldn’t be any sleeping involved. Just plenty of nakedness and kissing and hot, delicious sex . . .
My entire body flushes at the thought.
“And I appreciate you working that pretty tail of yours off for me. Though I’d hate to see it go,” he drawls, his gaze dropping low. Like he’s actually trying to check out my backside. His flirtatious tone shocks me, rendering me still.
Our relationship isn’t like this. Strictly professional is how Matt and I keep it between us. But that last remark was most definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he’s looking at me . . .
Oh. My.
My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.
God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.
Yeah. I sound like those romance novels I used to devour when I had more time to freaking read. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could what happens in a romance novel actually occur in real life.
But I’m feeling it. Right now. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me almost makes me think he might be feeling it too.
“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.
Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon. I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before, but not like this. Never like this.
An Excerpt from
IF YOU ONLY KNEW
A Trust No One Novel
by Dixie Lee Brown
Beautiful and deadly, Rayna Dugan is a force to be reckoned with. But when she must suddenly defend her life against a criminal empire, Rayna knows she needs backup. Ex-cop Ty Whitlock never meant for his former flame to get mixed up in this mess—a mess he feels responsible for. Now he’s got only one choice: find Rayna and keep her safe. But that’s the easy part. Once he finds her, can he convince her to stay?
He leaned close. “Goddammit, Rayna. You could have been killed.” He breathed the words, and the anger in his expression morphed into fear as he grabbed her forearms and gave her a shake.
The deep emotion playing across his face tugged at her heart. His tortured gaze held her transfixed. She searched for the words to fix everything, starting with the way she’d botched their relationship, but some things couldn’t be fixed.
She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and drew semicircles on his firmly toned abdomen with her thumbs until she found her voice again. “But I wasn’t . . . thanks to you and Ribs.”
Ty straightened and glanced upward, away from her face. “I thought I was going to lose you. I won’t lose you, Rayna.” His piercing gaze fastened on her again, and he raised one hand to caress her cheek. “Don’t you get it? We’re a team. I need you, and whether you’ll admit it or not, you need me too.”
Hope flared within her at his words, followed almost immediately by a spark of anger. “If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t be trying to keep me out of the hunt for Andre. If we’re such a good team, why not act like one?”
Ty swept a hand across the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to keep you . . .” He stopped and looked away from her. “Shit. You’re right. I wanted you out of it so you’d be safe, and so I could do my job without worrying about you. I still want you to be safe . . . but I’m fairly certain Joe was going to side with you anyway.” He swung his gaze back to her, and amusement quirked his lips. “Besides, if he takes you home, you’ll just spend all your time worrying about me.”
“Oh, you think so?” Rayna raised a quizzical eyebrow. Did he mean it this time? Would he let her help take Andre down, or was he simply putting her off again?
Ty grew serious. “Stay with me, Rayna, and we’ll get this guy. He won’t know what hit him.”
His soft words and the sincerity in his eyes melted her heart and filled her with sadness at the same time. It sounded like he was asking her to stay with him forever, but he’d already made it clear that he wasn’t returning to Montana. So where did that leave them? The smart thing to do would be to ask, but her courage failed in the face of what his answer could be. For right now, she wanted to believe he meant forever, but the truth was she wanted him for however long he would have her, and she’d convince him later that he couldn’t live without her. Did that make her desperate? So what if it did? She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer as she shook her head slowly. “Try getting rid of me.”
A genuine smile lit his eyes, and his head lowered slowly. His lips touched hers in a lingering kiss, warm and promising more. His arms slid around her waist, pulled her in tightly, and he rested his chin on top of her head. She inhaled a deep breath, and her wild heartbeat began to slow. The safety and comfort of his embrace was exactly what she needed, and it was surprisingly easy to surrender herself to his care. Of course, there were still things to do. They had to get Ribs back and his wounds treated, but for now—for just a moment . . .
A shrill siren screeched in the distance, disturbing the peace of Nate’s uncle’s property. Ty tensed and raised his head, listening, then pulled his gun from its shoulder holster.