By Tess St. John

Tess St. John

"The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing." ~ Albert Einstein

Prologue

Kasey Hunter drove into the parking lot of Marshall's Hardware Store, parked, and checked the time on his phone. Damn, first day of his new job, and he was late. Time got away from him after the last school bell rang, and he'd walked Stacy to her car. Being with her always made him lose track of time.

His mom's disappointed voice rang in his head. "Being late isn't starting on the right foot." With any luck, she wouldn't find out, but the odds were against him. His mother knew everyone in town and trying to hide anything from her proved impossible for him and his brothers.

His friend Mike Marshall got Kasey the job at his dad's store. He'd be working his first shift with Mike and Mr. Marshall today.

He hustled inside. Seeing no one, he strode down the center of the showroom floor, between the displays filled with everything from plungers to lawnmowers, glancing both right and left down every aisle—still seeing no one.

At the end of the aisle, he stepped behind the counter and paced down the dark hallway leading to a bathroom, a cleaning closet, and a huge warehouse-storage room with tables, benches, a refrigerator, and shelves filled with surplus hardware items. As he entered the room, he spotted Mike sitting on a bench between two shelves in front of the black, freestanding safe against the back wall.

He peered around the corner of the shelf.

An average-height guy with dirty blonde hair wearing a green jacket and jeans stood next to the bench. "Open the safe." He gestured toward the safe with something shiny.

It took a second for Kasey to make out what it was.

A gun!

He froze.

"I don't have the combination." Mike was tall and close to three hundred pounds. Right now, though, he appeared small and weak sitting on the low bench.

Where is Mr. Marshall?

Kasey took a step back to call for help.

Suddenly, the hand with the weapon slammed into Mike's face. Mike groaned and slumped to the ground.

Kasey's gut twisted. He couldn't leave Mike alone with this guy. He acted like he hadn't seen or heard a thing and called, "Mike," before he stepped around the corner of the shelving."

The attacker spun toward Kasey and pointed the gun at him. "Who the fuck are you?"

A chill ran up Kasey's spine.

Mike's head shot up, terror in his eyes.

"Nobody." Kasey held up his hands, uncertain what lengths the guy would go to to get what he wanted. Maybe I should've gone for help.

"You're somebody. We're all somebody." The man's bloodshot eyes had deep blue circles underneath.

Mike grabbed the bench with one hand, his other on his bleeding head, and got to his feet. "He's a new employee. This is his first day."

"Is that true?" Gun guy directed the question at Kasey.

He nodded.

"Hell of a first day." The robber smirked then frowned at Mike. "I'm going to ask you again, real nice. Unlock the safe."

"I can't." Blood from Mike's head oozed through his fingers. "My dad is the only one who has the combination."

The robber motioned with the gun for Kasey to stand beside Mike. "Both of you sit."

They sat. Kasey's senses swiftly sprang to high alert, and he noticed things that never normally caught his attention. Black and gray scuff marks on the white floor, ticking from the wall clock, a hum from the icebox in the corner, and Mike's heavy breaths.

"I'm sure Mike can open the register for you." Kasey hoped to keep the guy talking instead of hitting or shooting people.

"I can," Mike offered eagerly.

"How much is in the register?"

"A hundred bucks plus any cash sales from the day," Mike said.

"I need more." Gun guy walked behind them.

Kasey turned his head and watched the guy pace back and forth, tenseness in his steps. "It'll be a hundred more than you have now,"

The guy rushed over and seized him around the neck. "Know what?" The stench of his breath nauseated Kasey. His attacker squeezed tight, cutting off Kasey's air. He couldn't breathe. Panicked, he clawed at the arm, struggling to get free.

"You've got—"

The pressure abruptly eased as gun guy grunted. Rowdy scuffling caused more grunts. It sounded like a wrestling match.

Kasey took a deep inhale.

Boom!

A gun went off.

Kasey ducked and raised his arms to cover his head.

A sting radiated from his calf.

He turned to see gun guy fighting two cops in black. More officers swarmed in from all directions.

Once they subdued gun guy, Mr. Marshall rushed over. He sat on the bench between Kasey and Mike and put his arms around them. "Oh, boys, I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"

An officer approached. "What happened?"

"When Mike got here, I left to eat. When I returned and opened the back door, I heard the robber and called 911. They told me to wait until the cops got here." Mr. Marshall squeezed Kasey's shoulder. "I'm so sorry you walked in on this. Nothing like this has ever..."

All at once weak, Kasey stopped listening. The sting in his calf turned to burning. He hissed.

"What's wrong?" the same cop questioned.

"I think the bullet nicked my leg."

The cop examined him. "You're bleeding like hell."

Kasey could've told him that.

With his dad's arm around him, Mike sat motionless staring straight ahead at the safe.

"You okay, Mike?" Kasey asked.

His friend didn't move or make a sound. The cops escorted gun guy out of the room in a flurry of shuffling and scuttling.

"You okay, man?" he questioned again, louder this time.

Mr. Marshall patted Mike's shoulder. "Everything's all right, son."

Paramedics entered, and the cop motioned them over.

At seeing them, Mike finally blinked and looked at Kasey. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." He knew what a sensitive guy Mike was and downplayed the bullet wound. And he knew he'd done the right thing in not leaving Mike alone and going for help. Because if Mike had gotten badly hurt, Kasey would never have forgiven himself.

Mr. Marshall squinted at the blood on the floor from Kasey's injury. He helped Mike up and led him around so he didn't see the blood. They crossed the room, and before they exited, Mr. Marshall looked at Kasey. "I'll call your folks and tell them to meet us at the hospital."

"Thank you." Streaks of firing pain shot up from his calf.

Hanover, a paramedic who bowled with Kasey's parents, hunched in front of him. "Damn, stay still. You're in a puddle of blood." Hanover shouted instructions, and another paramedic appeared with a gurney. They maneuvered Kasey until he was face down on the gurney. With his every move, every breath, he wanted to groan in pain but didn't want to look like a wimp. Cold sweat chilled his skin.

"I have to cut your jeans," Hanover said.

Damn. The jeans were brand new.

In the next second, the fabric ripped. Thankfully he didn't jostle Kasey's leg at all. "How are you not howling? The whole damn bullet is in there."

"Explains why it feels like a branding iron has been stabbed into my calf." Kasey buried his head in the pillow, praying to pass out.

~

Once the paramedicsstarted an IV, Kasey got immediate relief and breathed easy. At the hospital, he was transferred from the gurney to a bed then immediately wheeled to the x-ray and CT labs. When he made it to a curtained ER room, his parents were there, along with Coach Banks, and his best friends, Dre and Zack.

He focused his attention on his friends. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Mike called me," Zack replied.

A young doctor came in wearing black scrubs and bright blue rimmed glasses. "I'm Dr. Derek." He studied the tablet in his hand. "Kasey, have you always been an athletic guy?"

"Yes," everyone in the room answered.

The doctor looked up and smiled. "You must be. The bullet is completely embedded, but your superhuman developed calf muscles prevented it from penetrating deep enough to hit bone or your arteries. Is his athleticism from you, Dad?"

Kasey's father shook his head. "His mom's the jock."

"My mistake." Dr. Derek bowed toward Kasey's mother. "Respect."

Mom grinned.

"So, no surgery," the doctor said."

"What a relief." Dad sighed.

"I'm sure Kasey appreciates you all being here, but you'll have to leave while we remove the bullet and stitch him up."

His friends and Coach Banks nodded at Kasey as they left the room.

"I'm staying." Mom sat in the only chair. Dad waited by the opening in the curtain.

"Mrs. Hunter," Dr. Derek began. "I understand you'd like to stay. The truth is we don't have the room. I'll need at least three nurses in here while I remove the bullet."

"I'll stay out of the way."

Dr. Derek went over to her and spoke to her privately.

She frowned. "We'll be in the waiting room, honey."

Dad opened the curtain for her to leave and followed her out.

"What did you say to her?" Kasey asked.

"I told her you didn't need your mother ogling your ass."

Kasey laughed. "You did not."

"No. I didn't. I told her I suspected you were being brave in front of them, but I needed you to be able to tell me if something hurts. Which is true. If you feel anything, don't play the tough guy. Tell me because you shouldn't experience any pain with what I'm going to do. Not today, at least. It might hurt like a bitch tomorrow."

Twice while the doctor worked on him, Kasey jumped and hissed from a spike of pain. Each time, Dr. Derek quickly said, "I got you, Kasey," and the pain instantly went away.

When the doctor finished, a nurse brought in two police officers who wanted to hear Kasey's account of the robbery. The doctor raised his brows. "You up to it?"

"Sure."

The nurses left and one returned with his mother and father. Dr. Derek remained by the bed. Kasey described what transpired. He wondered how Mike was handling it all.

The police listened intently. When they left, they insisted if Kasey needed anything to give them a call and requested to see his parents outside the room. After they left, the doctor said, "What you went through was traumatic, Kasey. I'd like you to speak to Dr. Youst. She's a therapist."

He'd just given an account of everything and didn't want to relive it again. "I'm okay."

"Let me rephrase. Dr. Youst is on her way. We request all our shooting victims talk to a trauma specialist."

"I can still go home tonight, right?"

"Like I told you earlier, we'll monitor you for a few hours. If your vitals stay normal, you can go home."

"Okay."

"You want your parents here when you talk to her?"

"I don't care." He wanted to get it over with and go home. "They heard the account I gave the cops."

A beautiful woman in a white lab coat entered the curtain and looked at Dr. Derek then peeked at Kasey. "How are we doing in here?"

Dr. Derek bumped Kasey's shoulder. "Kasey Hunter, this is Dr. Youst. The prettiest doctor in Texas."

Her blue eyes sparkled. "Dr. Derek has a crush on me."

"Guilty." Dr. Derek winked at her. "Who can blame me?"

"I'm sure you're tired of people questioning you, Kasey, I'm here in case you'd like to talk about anything. I spoke to Mike Marshall, and he said you walked in on him being held at gunpoint."

"That's about it." Kasey's shoulders relaxed for the first time since he walked into the store.

"Mike told me you were very brave."

"Not really. I just couldn't leave Mike after the guy pistol-whipped him."

"You want to tell me how it felt or what you're feeling now?"

"I'm okay."

She held quiet. Dr. Derek patiently waited as well.

Kasey wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't say anything.

Sure, he'd been frightened. At one point, he'd wondered if they'd make it out of the store alive.

~

Later, Kasey was inhis room playing video game, his injured leg propped on pillows. Zack was on the other twin bed and Dre sat in a beanbag chair. He was grateful for these guys. They saw each other through everything life served them. They hadn't asked anything about what happened. The best thing about his friends...they knew he'd talk when he needed to. It was good to think of things other than the shooting.

His four brothers had nagged him for information until his friends showed up, and he'd escaped with them to his room. Reporters in front of the house waited for an exclusive, any morsel of scandal to exploit. Kasey had hobbled into the house on crutches while they'd shouted questions from the drive. He'd ignored them.

At a knock on the door, Kasey called, "What?"

It had to be one of his brothers. He knew it wasn't his mom or dad, they'd gone bowling. They hadn't wanted to, but he'd begged them to go, telling them he needed everyone to go about life normally. They were worried about him, he saw it in their eyes, but they went.

The door opened. Ethan walked inside. "I'm on TV. Do you want to watch me? They keep playing my interview."

"Interview?" Anger flashed through Kasey. "You weren't supposed to talk to anyone."

"They cornered me when I brought the garbage to the front."

Kasey rolled his eyes. "Since when do you bring the garbage to the curb?"

"Since you got shot."

A frustrated hum vibrated through him. "You were supposed to say ‘no comment'."

"I did. Then one of the reporters wanted to know if we owned guns."

"What did you say?"

"That we have hunting rifles, not handguns like the one you were shot with."

Kasey threw one of his pillows at Ethan, wishing it was something that'd do the dumbass harm. "Get out!"

He and his friends continued to play video games well into the night. It was like so many other weekend nights they spent together—talking, laughing, and eating junk food.

Around three, the scene from earlier played in his mind. He closed his eyes. His breath caught, and his throat tightened. Maybe he should've talked more with Dr. Youst.

He opened his eyes and tried to concentrate on the video game.

The memory kept attacking him. The gun. The robber's bloodshot eyes. Mike falling to the ground, his head bleeding. The tick of the clock. The guy's arm around his neck.

He set the controller down and wrapped his arms around his torso. He had to find a way to stop the memory.

"Kasey?" Dre said. "You okay, man?"

"What happened keeps running through my mind." His words were fast, too fast. His mind had shifted to super speed. "When I saw what was happening, I couldn't leave Mike alone, so I stepped forward. That's when the guy, I don't even know his name. Do you know his name?"

They shook their heads.

"That's when he turned the gun on me. He ordered me and Mike to sit and stood behind us." He cleared his throat, fighting it from closing. His eyes stung with tears. "I was okay until he began choking me. Even now I..."

No words could describe the terror in his mind. He bowed his head and rocked back and forth.

A hand clasped his bicep before Dre whispered, "Feel whatever you need to, man. Talk or don't, it's up to you."

"We're here." Zack gripped his other shoulder.

"I can't think of anything else." He hadn't cried in years, but he felt the sting of tears in his eyes.

"Come on, we'll take you to the hospital." Zack offered.

"No. I have an appointment at eight with Dr. Youst at her office. If I leave now to go to the hospital my mom will freak."

"Your mom will understand." Dre's voice was calm, it always was.

"No." His voice came out too loud. "I'm fine. I'll be fine," he choked. Why couldn't he hold himself together?

"I know, man," Dre spoke quietly. "What can we do to get you to eight?"

"I don't know." Tears blurred his vision. His body trembled. "I feel like I'm falling apart."

His friends each wrapped their arm firmly around his shoulders. "Go ahead," Dre murmured. "We'll hold you together."

Kasey fell apart.

"To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love." ― Jane Austen, "Pride and Prejudice"

Fifteen years later

Kasey Hunter stared out the backseat window of the Toyota trying to figure out how his life got so fucked up.

Forty-eight hours ago, he wouldn't have traded his life with anyone.

Now, he'd swap lives with the next person he met.

If only that was possible.

The Uber driver stopped the car in front of the nightclub with a huge brown neon sign in the shape of a boot with Tiny's flashing in red.

Kasey blew out a breath knowing this was where he needed to be at the moment. The Star Breeze, an entertainment news program, wouldn't run the piece on what transpired on the set of his reality show yesterday until tomorrow.

If only he wasn't a public figure, he'd be able to escape the humiliation, but he couldn't. She'd made certain of that.

He didn't look forward to being hounded for a statement, or the media circus that would ensue as soon as the news broke.

His Uber driver, Perry, a twenty-something college student, recognized him and had been good company on the drive. Instead of peppering Kasey with questions, he'd talked about studying for finals and how he only had one more semester before he graduated with a computer science degree.

Perry set the car in park and turned in his seat. "Hit me up if you need a ride home or anywhere while you're in town. If you request me, day or night, I'll show up."

"Thanks. I hope you do well on your finals."

"Thanks, man."

Kasey slid from the car, punched the app on his phone, and left Perry a hundred-dollar tip. Bouquet of flowers in hand, he headed toward the club. It was around ten, and there was a crowd waiting to get inside. He glanced at the door on his way to join the line. His high school friend Mike Marshall, the owner, stood right inside the door. The club was in Houston, yet only minutes from where he'd grown up in Katy.

Mike spotted him and motioned him forward. Once Kasey got close, the three-hundred-pound man with a bald head and tattoos covering his arms grasped his hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Damn good to see you, Kasey. Of course, I watch you every Monday night on TV, but this is so much better."

"I was here in the fall, the night of the tornado. You were off."

"Sorry I missed you."

"Looks crowded tonight."

"Everyone's thirsty." Mike ushered him inside. "I have to relieve my bouncer for his break. I'll talk to you a little later."

"Thanks for getting me in."

"Least I can do." Mike's words and his expression were full of gratitude. They'd talked about being held at gunpoint many times, especially right after the incident, even attended therapy sessions together. Mike had expressed over and over how grateful he was Kasey intervened with the robber, saying he wasn't sure what would've happened otherwise. The unsettled feeling Kasey sometimes got when thinking about what they went through cramped his stomach. Not wanting to give it his attention or energy, he nodded to Mike and continued into the club.

From what he could see with the dim lighting, Mike had done extensive renovations since the last time he was here. Where it used to hold the vibe of a dingy nightclub, now it resembled a barn with a loft in one corner, paneled walls all around, and clear milk jug lights hanging from the ceiling. A bar with stools now took up the left wall and was flanked by swinging doors on each end. Pub tables and chairs surrounded the huge dance floor.

A cute blonde bumped into him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine."

"Wait, you're Hunter Kase."

He smiled tightly. He hated the name the network insisted he use. Well, she insisted he use.

Blondie squealed. "Oh my God! You have to come meet my friends."

"Actually, I'm late for a birthday party. I'm sure I'll meet your friends during the night."

"Oh, it'll just take a minute." She latched on to his arm.

He sighed. While he followed her, he searched for Dre. He'd texted his friend an hour ago, and Dre told him to meet them here for Quinn's birthday party. The two were getting married soon.

Blondie stopped at a bar table where a girl sat with two guys. Kasey saw immediate recognition on the guys' faces. One shouted, "Hunter Kase!"

A few people around them turned their heads and approached. Luckily, the music was loud and not everyone heard. After five minutes of smiling for pictures and shaking hands, Kasey excused himself. "I'm meeting friends."

"We're all friends here," the blonde said, obviously not ready for him to leave.

Kasey waved and walked away. He usually didn't mind the notoriety, it was part of his life, but right now it grated on his last nerve. He found Zack and Dre in a quiet corner at the back of the club playing pool.

Zack's wife, Sadie, rushed forward and threw her arms around him. "How are you? I hope you're staying in town longer than a day this time."

Without explaining why he'd returned unexpectedly, he hugged her. "Not sure how long I'll be here."

"Well, I'm happy to see you." She kissed his cheek and disappeared into the crowd.

Zack held out a pool stick. "Your turn." Zack was the worst pool player he knew and used any excuse not to play.

"What brings you to town?" Dre shook Kasey's hand and pulled him close to slap his back. "Are you alone?"

His friends knew what he'd planned yesterday, and he hadn't filled them in on the details of what happened yet. This wasn't the place to discuss that clusterfuck. "I'll explain later."

Dre, who had an uncanny ability to read people, immediately said, "Nine ball. Kasey, you rack."

Half an hour later, Quinn approached them. She was as bright as sunshine with her golden blonde hair and beaming smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss your party." Kasey grabbed the bouquet he'd brought and handed it to her. "Happy Birthday."

"Oh, how sweet." She embraced him. "Come. I want to introduce you to my friends."

Kasey picked up his beer. Dre did the same, and they followed her. Since Dre played in the NFL, and Kasey's show had been on for four seasons, many people called their names and wanted them to stop. Quinn made excuses, claiming she needed them right now.

When Dre stopped to talk to Mike, Kasey continued on with Quinn. She introduced him to her friends standing at the edge of the dance floor. Then she gripped his arm and led him to a table with tons of drinks scattered around with a woman sitting at it. He could only make out her profile. She did not look happy.

"Amanda Crane," Quinn called.

The lady spun around in her chair.

"Nice to see you again, Kasey."

See me again? Damn. Although he didn't recall her, he liked that she didn't call him Hunter or Hunter Kase.

His confusion must have showed, because she continued, "At Quinn and Dre's engagement party I was a blonde." She pointed at her raven black hair.

"Amanda." He remembered her now. Her hair was cut in the same short precise style. She wore jeans and the same Lemur shirt as Quinn and some of the others.

A new tune started, and Quinn excitedly waved. "I love this song. I'm going to find Dre."

She left Kasey standing there.

"You want to sit?" Amanda motioned to the empty chair next to her. "I helped Sadie plan this surprise party for Quinn. We went over the guest list, and she didn't mention you were going to be here."

He pulled out the chair and sat. "You think I'm crashing the party?"

"Maybe." Amanda brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

"You'd be right. I texted Dre a couple of hours ago to tell him I was in town, and he invited me to join the birthday celebration."

"I met your girlfriend at the engagement party. Is she with you?"

"We're not together anymore." It was the first time he'd said the words out loud.

All the sudden, a hand snaked around his shoulder.

He stiffened and turned his head to find a gorgeous redhead standing close. He took a breath and centered himself. Right after the holdup, someone surprising him from behind would send him into a panic. Now he could control the fear.

The woman's flowery perfume clouded the air. "Hunter Kase, how about a dance?"

"I'm in the middle of a conversation so I can't right now."

She rubbed his shoulder. "I'm sure your friend won't mind."

He frowned. "I can't be rude. You understand."

Pout on her red lips, the woman walked off.

"Is that normal? Women coming on to you?" Amanda asked.

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I've taken a vow of celibacy."

"Becoming a priest?"

"Oh, hell no."

She laughed, which made her eyes sparkle. He couldn't tell the color in this lighting and didn't remember from the time they'd met. "So why have you sworn off sex?"

"I need time to recalibrate."

"I get it. I swore off sex following my divorce."

"How long were you married?"

"Four years." She flicked a speck of something off the table.

"Is he a prick? Do I need to kick his ass?"

"He's a great guy. My first real boyfriend."

"Your high school sweetheart?"

She shook her head. "High school came too early in my development. At least, as far as my body was concerned. I didn't develop until my twenties."

He held up his beer bottle like toasting. "Well, your twenties did a hell of a job."

"Kind of you to say." Even in the shadows, he noticed her skin brightened at his words. "Especially, since I didn't get a chance to change after work and wash off the day. We took Quinn out to dinner as camouflage and came straight here for the surprise party."

He pointed to her shirt. "You teach, right?"

"I'm a counselor."

Dr. Youst came to his mind. Following the gun fiasco, Dre and Zack had stayed up with him all night and brought him to her office for his appointment the next day. He'd been a wreck when he walked into her office, but by the time he'd left, he felt so much better, so much calmer. He'd met with her weekly until he left for college and even drove in for appointments once a month. They still had sessions over Zoom every three months. With what happened yesterday, he should probably make an appointment with Dr. Youst and talk about it.

He cracked his neck.

Amanda studied him. "Which Jane Austen character are you?"

"You've heard about my mom's obsession."

"I'm in a book club with her. She told me how she named all her boys after characters in Jane Austen's books."

"All except for me," he clarified. "My name is Austen, spelled with an E as Jane spelled it. Austen Kastor Hunter."

"Kastor?"

"My great grandfather's name."

"What are your brother's names?"

"Bennet James, Darcy Henry, Oliver Collins, and Ethan Knightly. Darcy and Bennet are the only ones who go by their Austen names."

"It's interesting."

"It gives people something to talk about." He'd lived with the oddity his whole life and only the people in town knew about it. "Why did you look miserable earlier?"

She leaned over and murmured, "Country music is not my favorite."

He laughed. "That'd explain it."

"You know, as a licensed counselor, if you'd like to share why you've chosen to take a celibacy vow, I am beholden to keep it confidential."

"Beholden? Who says beholden?"

"Blame it on the historical books I read."

"It's a torrid, messy tale. You sure you want to hear it?"

"Of course. Torrid is always exciting." She lifted what appeared to be a strawberry daiquiri to her lips.

He hadn't told anyone the story and was surprised the press hadn't leaked it to the public. He glanced around. His friends were busy, each giving their soulmates their undivided attention. Tennessee Whisky came on, and Amanda swayed in her seat. It was the first time he'd seen her slightly move to the music.

"You like this song?" he asked.

"It's one of the few country songs I like."

"Let's dance."

She narrowed her eyes. "Trying to get out of telling your torrid tale?"

"No. I like this song too." He stood. "Come on, we're going to miss it."

"Why, yes, Kasey, I'd love to dance. Thanks for ordering me to do it."

Her sarcasm was well placed. "Sorry. Amanda, would you like to dance?"

"Better."

Once on the dance floor, he faced her, and clasped one of her hands. His other found her lower back, and he swept her across the floor. He'd learned long ago most girls liked a guy who danced, so he'd had his girlfriends in high school and college teach him. For some reason, girls loved to teach guys to dance, and he'd always been a willing student.

Amanda's perfume was an inviting hint of cinnamon and vanilla. So inviting, he wanted to press his nose to her throat and smell it full force. A rebound reaction to the last twenty-four hours for sure. His life was too fucked up to have such a thought, yet there it was. Long ago, Dr. Youst explained that people didn't have control over what they thought, only what energy they gave to it or how they reacted to it.

The song was what his dad called belly-rubbing music. Slow, with a beat that urged a couple to snuggle up to each other.

As they turned, Amanda stepped too quickly. He squeezed her hand. "Let me lead."

She frowned. "I don't dance to country."

"Which is why you should let me lead."

Still frowning, she shrugged. "I'll try."

He gently pulled her closer and applied pressure on her hand and hip as he encouraged her. At her hesitancy, he rubbed her lower back. "Small steps—move with me."

She stared up at him. Desire flashed in her eyes an instant before she blinked, and it was gone. Tempted to pull her closer, he didn't. He kept everything respectable, and her body eventually relaxed in his hold. The song ended and a fast song came on.

She smiled. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. I'll get us drinks and meet you in the back by the dart boards. It's less noisy back there. A strawberry daiquiri, right?"

"A virgin."

"Well, your virgin pairs nicely with my celibacy."

She let out a low, sexy chuckle and headed toward a table.

Was he fixing to spill his guts to a woman he'd met one time? Although she'd promised not to talk about whatever he told her, he had no idea if he should trust her. But she was Quinn's friend and something about her put him at ease.

Twenty minutes later, he'd told her everything. Every last sorted detail. She'd listened, her eyes never wandering from his face. She picked up her drink and clinked it to the beer in his hand. "That, my friend, is fucked up."

And how.

"Nothing like waiting for a bomb to go off."

"I know." He sipped his beer.

She pulled out her phone to check the time. "T minus fifteen hours." As he set the bottle down, Amanda reached over and patted his hand. "Her mistake."

"Thanks. I don't pretend to be perfect. I'd never—" He gazed across the dance floor and his heart plunged to his gut. There she was, looking absolutely beautiful with his brothers behind her. "Shit."

Amanda glanced to where he stared, stood, and pulled on his arm. "Let's get you out of here."

He followed her as she stayed by the wall and darted behind and around people. They moved as fast as possible while trying not to look conspicuous. "I need to tell Dre I'm leaving and call an Uber."

"I'll tell him," Amanda assured him. "And you can call once you're outside."

The music stopped.

"Where are you, Hunter Kase?" Mike's voice boomed over the speakers.

Amanda didn't stop. She motioned him in front of her. If he made it to the hallway, he might be able to sneak out.

"He's right there," the blonde from earlier shouted.

"Damn," he uttered in surrender as he turned and frowned at Amanda.

She laced her fingers through his and tugged him along while the woman started toward them from across the room, his brothers behind her.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," his betrayer said.

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Eyes of Jade Excerpt

?Tess St. John

Jake jolted awake in a cold sweat, his pulse pounding in his ears. The beeping of his cell phone registered. He pressed his face into the pillow and concentrated on inhaling deep breaths. Five years and he still couldn't escape the nightmare: the images of her beaten body, the metallic scent of blood, and the terror that squeezed his heart like a tourniquet.

His phone beeped again. He rolled over and grabbed it off the nightstand. "Jake Dane."

"I'll pick you up in ten minutes."

The first gray haze of morning filtered through the blinds. "I'm on vacation."

"Not anymore." The line clicked dead.

With a glance at the empty space beside him, a familiar twinge tightened in his chest. With no time to dwell, he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower.

Ten minutes later, hair still wet, he slid into the passenger side of the unmarked Mercury Sable. "This better be good."

His partner, Stewart Rainey, hit the gas pedal and raced down the street. Jake waved to his neighbor, who was in his robe and slippers dragging a trash can to the curb. Rain clouds dipped low in the sky, promising relief from the stifling Houston heat.

"No coffee?" Jake grumbled.

"We'll stop on the way. Nothing with a smell is tolerated at my house. Peg's miserable and still claims it's my fault."

"You did get her pregnant."

"Vasectomies are supposed to work."

Jake grinned. "Maybe you should've gotten that last checkup."

"I did, we just hadn't gotten the results. It's a crime when a man can't make love to his wife without using a fucking condom. No pun intended." Stewart checked his rearview mirror. "I don't remember her morning sickness being this bad with the other two."

Traffic crawled bumper to bumper in the heart of the city, even at six-thirty in the morning. Jake's phone vibrated, and he fished it out of his pocket. Sam, his ex-partner, was calling—no doubt worried Jake would spend the day alone. Jake didn't answer but texted him instead. Couldn't answer. Working today.

And before she called, he texted his mother. Vacation canceled. I'm at work. She'd be relieved he wasn't at the beach house watching waves crash to the shore. Taking vacation on this day each year and spending it at the beach had become his ritual.

Stewart exited the highway and hung a right at the first corner. The road transformed into a quiet street lined by massive oaks and dense foliage. A quarter mile down the street, a metal gate stood open with police officers and vehicles surrounding the entrance. Squad cars' red lights flashed in the morning gloom.

Stewart rolled down his window and flashed his badge to the officers, then parked on the asphalt drive inside the fence. On the other side of the fire engines and more police cars, the rubble of a warehouse smoldered. Portions of the gray building remained two to three feet high around the ruins—everything charred in black soot. By the overgrown grass and weeds, he guessed the place hadn't been used in years.

Firefighters lingered around the perimeter of the property, their coats open, some still in black helmets. A few folded hoses onto the trucks.

In a blue pinstriped suit, Kirk McDermott strode from the back of the property. With his side-parted brown hair and spit-shined loafers, he was the epitome of a straight-laced FBI agent. McDermott shook hands with Stewart, then Jake. "I'm the case agent."

"Why are we here?" Jake asked.

McDermott reached inside his coat and pulled out a small clear evidence bag. Inside was a soup can-size spool with a hook on the top.

Stewart whistled. "A triggered spark gap."

Innocent enough when used to ignite electrical shock waves to break up kidney stones, the device could also be used to detonate a nuclear bomb.

"First responders found it on the front steps." McDermott frowned. "With a note." He held out another baggie which had a piece of paper with one word written on it. BOOM.

"Why is this familiar?" Stewart asked softly, mostly to himself.

Nothing about this felt familiar to Jake. He pulled his camera from his coat pocket and took pictures of the device and note.

"Someone intentionally torched the warehouse. We just don't know if it's a random or deliberate act against the owner." McDermott hesitated. "There's more. Last week a non-profit organization purchased the place. The only executive on the organization's records is Eve Knight."

Stewart stiffened. "The Eve Knight?"

"One and the same."

Stewart's face lit up. His wife loved Hollywood gossip.

Jake cringed. All they needed was a spoiled-ass actress with an attitude. "Has anyone contacted Ms. Knight or is she in this debris?"

"She canceled a private flight to Bush Intercontinental last night and caught the earliest commercial flight from LA this morning. She's due to land in Houston within the hour." McDermott's brown eyes were hard—like he'd seen everything in life and nothing surprised him anymore.

"Would she have done this for the insurance money?" Jake asked.

"Records show she paid in cash and insured it for the exact amount of the purchase, so it's doubtful." McDermott placed the triggered spark gap and note back in his pocket. "You need to intercept Ms. Knight, inform her about the warehouse, and bring her in for questioning. It won't be easy since she's on a commercial flight."

Jake didn't follow Hollywood, but no one missed Eve Knight's picture on the cover of magazines in every grocery store, her movie trailers, or the ridiculous stories about her on TV and the news. Not to mention reruns of the sitcom Raising Trudy. She'd starred on the show as a young girl.

McDermott checked his watch. "You better head out. We've talked to the airlines and asked them to keep her on the plane until you arrive."

Great, they'd have to deal with airport security. This day got better and better.

On the way to the airport, Stewart chattered like a schoolgirl. "I've read quite a bit about Eve. They say she's a nice person. Her fans love her."

"You can't believe everything you read."

Stewart ignored Jake's remark and slapped the steering wheel. "Wait until I tell Peg. She won't believe Eve Knight is in Houston."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Will she be as excited as you?"

"What's up your ass?"

"I'm supposed to be on vacation, away from this shit."

"The real reason." One thing about partners, they sensed things others couldn't.

"This wasn't a random arson if someone left a triggered spark gap and a note."

~

"Oh my God, it's EveKnight."

Eve flinched as she grabbed her phone and considered ignoring the lady, but she didn't want to appear rude. Because she wasn't rude, no matter what the Hollywood rags wrote about her. Why had the flight attendant asked her to wait for an escort? The last time she flew commercially, she'd been instructed to get off the plane first.

Giving in to the inevitable, she dropped her phone into her purse, not having turned it on yet. With a flick of her hand, the scarf fell from around her hair to her neck, and she took off her sunglasses. She rose and faced the passengers exiting. On a plane this size, the door was behind the seats in first class, so she'd hoped to avoid the travelers since they wouldn't pass in the aisle. No such luck.

A red-haired woman gasped and slapped the arm of the man beside her. "I told you." Her smile was huge and toothy. "Eve, I'm your biggest fan. I can't believe we rode on the same plane. Are you in Houston for long?"

"I'm not sure. It's nice to meet you."

Others on the plane bobbed their heads and craned their necks to get a glimpse of her.

The woman squealed. "Can I get a picture with you?"

That photo led to at least ten other pictures with people Eve had never met and would never meet again.

How many of these people believed what the press reported and wrote about her? Did they trust the media's version of her life—which had little to do with her real life?

As a child, her stepfather sheltered her from the vultures. In her late teens, her emotions see-sawed with every piece of gossip she heard and read. Finally, in her twenties, after her divorce and rehab, she realized nothing written or reported in the media was worth worrying over. It didn't define her.

When the last passengers were gone, Eve gathered her purse and computer bag. Two men charged onto the plane, flashing their badges. She recognized the FBI insignia having played an agent in one of her movies. She'd even worked with actual agents to make her character more realistic.

"Hello, Ms. Knight. My name is Stewart Rainey, and this is Jake Dane. We're from the local FBI office."

Stewart Rainey. Jake Dane.Eve studied each man and repeated the names five times in her head. The trick her agent taught her as a child had come in useful her whole life. She rarely forgot a name.

The men were of a similar build, both around six feet. However, their likeness ended there. The one who spoke, Stewart Rainey, had happy blue eyes, his blond hair in a flat-top, and dressed in slacks with a blazer. Jake Dane had solemn green eyes, a deep tan, and brown hair much longer than his partner's—almost touching his collar. He wore well-fitted jeans, a polo with a white T-shirt underneath, and a sports jacket strained over his broad shoulders.

"Can you tell me what this is about?" she asked.

Agent Rainey gestured to her computer bag and held out his hand. "An incident occurred at the property you bought here in Houston."

She passed him the bag. "An incident? At the warehouse?"

"We'll explain on the way to the property."

"Thank you." If she'd arrived on schedule last night, a limo would've been waiting in a private hangar, but this morning she expected to hail a taxi.

She followed in Agent Rainey's wake, hoping to get out of the airport without too much interference.

Agent Dane, who stayed at her side, scowled.

He stepped between her and the crowd when eager fans ran up. "Please, let us through. Ms. Knight is late for an appointment."

While she waved, she whispered under her breath, "It's easier if I acknowledge them. Trust me. I've dealt with this my whole life." She faced the crowd. Phone cameras flickered like strobe lights in the darkened terminal. Even though it was eight in the morning, the dismal weather outside cast an ominous drape over the day.

As she took a step to skirt the agent and reached for an outstretched pen, she felt her upper arm being grasped. Again, Agent Dane positioned his body between her and the crowd. "Sorry, folks. Ms. Knight is late."

She waved as he rushed her away from the fans, his grip not crushing, yet firm—very firm. Why was he in such a rush? Her name rang out often while the agents hurried her through the corridors.

She'd been in the limelight since the age of six, and although the attention was a nuisance, she had a certain responsibility to the fans. They were the ones who bought the tickets, the ones who—in essence—paid her salary. She respected that and respected them. Now the people she just dissed might call her a snob, or claim she was too good to give them the time of day. "You didn't do me any favors back there."

"I'm not here to do favors." Agent Dane's voice sounded like a growl.

She stopped and twisted from his hold, fed up with his cloak-and-dagger routine. "Why are you here?"

The agents each reached for her arms.

"Don't you dare. You won't drag me out of here like I've done something wrong."

"We can't discuss this here." Agent Rainey glanced about. "Will you please come with us?" He held out his arm. At least he seemed to be giving her a choice. She took the proffered arm and let him guide her. Outside the automatic glass doors, a sedan waited. Agent Dane held the car door open, and she slid inside. He followed right behind her, his big body crowding hers. Rainey hopped into the driver's seat.

Before they drove out of the covered parking garage, she huffed. "What's this about my warehouse?"

Agent Dane's eyes reminded her of uncut pieces of jade, the color brilliant, yet flat—lifeless. "Why didn't you make your chartered flight last night?" he asked.

A stab of sadness pierced her heart, her loss still new. "Something came up."

"What?"

It wasn't any of his business. "I don't see why you're ask—"

"We need to know."

After the night she'd suffered and how she'd accommodated these agents, his tone and interruption angered her. "You're the—"

"Answer the question."

She folded her arms over her chest, having no intention of telling the ill-mannered agent anything.

"A fire destroyed your warehouse."

Alarm seared her nerves, and she lurched forward. "My warehouse?" How long would it take to rebuild?

From the front seat, Agent Rainey shook his head. "Jake, you didn't need to blurt it out."

"Yes, I did. She's angry we wouldn't let her greet her adoring fans. We don't have time for her to play America's Sweetheart."

She'd never wanted to be America's Sweetheart.

Dane rubbed his forehead. "Someone deliberately set the fire. We're trying to figure out if someone is trying to send you a message or hurt you."

Shock vibrated through her. "I hoped this was behind me. I never expected to live anonymously here in Houston, but figured I might escape the crazy stalkers." Her life had been threatened many times, yet luckily nothing ever developed beyond threats.

Until now.

An eerie shiver jangled down her spine. "You can't be sure someone is after me. The warehouse needed drastic repairs. Maybe the gas line exploded when the utility company turned it on." Another thought occurred to her. "Why is the fire a Bureau issue?"

Agent Dane pulled a camera from his coat pocket and showed her a picture. "This was found at the warehouse."

Eve gasped. "That's a triggered spark gap."

"How do you know what it is?"

"One was used as part of the script on a film I made."

Rainey regarded her in the rearview mirror. "That's what felt familiar. In Till We Meet Again, you played the FBI agent in charge of protecting it."

How sweet, Rainey is a fan.

She met Dane's annoyed gaze. He, clearly, was not a fan.

Rainey continued. "They left a note with boom written on it as well."

"You're kidding?" Who would do this? "Surely my warehouse wasn't blown up with a nuclear bomb."

"No." Dane turned off the camera. "But this is why we were assigned to the case."

She studied his chiseled features. "What if I want my own bodyguards?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Rainey said. "We're going to take you to the property, then to the office."

She reached inside her purse. "I need to call my dad."

Rainey's deep voice came from the front seat. "We'll have to rule him out as a suspect first."

She blew out an appalled breath. "My dad would never do this."

"Until we are satisfied he didn't do it, you're not to contact him," Dane insisted.

Now they were trying to provoke her. Her heartbeat picked up speed. "You can't forbid me to speak to my father."

"Yes, we can." Dane glared out the rear window.

"You're being unreasonable." She laughed before nagging fear gripped her. Who set fire to her warehouse? And why leave a triggered spark gap and note like in one of her movies?

Keeping her demeanor calm was almost impossible with her heart pounding so fast. But she'd acted most of her life. She could do it.

A twinge of pain twitched in her head. Oh, crumbs, all I need is a headache.

~

Eve was too calm. Spookycalm. Any other woman would be freaking out. Not Eve Knight. Just seconds ago she'd been laughing.

Her attitude pissed Jake off. She needed to be on guard, more aware of potential danger.

Ready to lecture her, Jake studied her first. On closer inspection, her hands were clutched together in her lap, knuckles white and her body shook. Now that he thought about it, her laugh had sounded a bit hysterical. First impression aside, he could tell she was terrified.

Although Eve had been a cute kid on Raising Trudy, cute no longer described her. As she grew up, and he saw her in a couple of her early movies, he wasn't immune to her girl-next-door-you'd-like-to-jump looks. And now, well, she glowed with simple beauty, from her shiny, brunette hair to her flawless, radiant skin. In jeans and a button-down top, she didn't flaunt her petite body, but he didn't miss her delicate, perfect curves.

Her eyes were what undid him though. So dark, so outwardly innocent. One glimpse into those brown depths and her soul appeared laid out before him.

She was out of her ever-loving beautiful mind if she believed moving to Houston would help her escape fans and the paparazzi.

His hardened attitude softened a bit, like releasing a held breath. He wanted to place a hand over hers to give her encouragement, unsure if she'd accept it. They hadn't gotten off on the best foot. He'd expected her to protest and fight him and Stewart. So he'd been more insistent than necessary making sure she understood they were in charge.

But after seeing her this scared, he regretted his hard-ass attitude. "Sorry about what happened at the airport."

She didn't respond.

Is she even listening?"Can you tell us why you missed your flight last night?"

"Something important came up." Her voice quivered.

He slid his arm behind her on the car seat, trying to lend her strength without touching her. With no family or friends, she might need a lot more strength before this case ended. For now, this would have to do.

He cleared his throat. "We need a list of everyone who knew you purchased the warehouse and knew you were coming to Houston last night."

"Only my family and Paige knew."

"Paige?"

"My agent, Paige Delano." She blinked slowly. "I'm sure no one else expected me to arrive until Friday for the benefit."

"What benefit?"

"A benefit for my charity is arranged for this weekend."

One thing at a time; the benefit could wait. "When you say your family, who are you talking about?"

"My father, sister, and brother."

"You mean your stepfather and stepbrother, right?" Stewart took a sharp right.

"They're my family." By her tone, she didn't consider them step anything.

"Do any of them know you didn't make your flight last night?" Jake asked.

"No. I was at the hospital until this morning, I'm sure they think I flew out last night." When she finished her sentence, they drove up to the warehouse. "Oh my God," she whispered.

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Chance for FreedomExcerpt

?Tess St. John

London, England, April 1826

Malcolm Westbourne startled awake, barely catching himself before the bouncing carriage tossed him to the floor. He'd had the dream again. Settling back in the seat, he tried to relax, but even in wakefulness, he couldn't escape the torturous memory.

By order of the Royal Navy, Malcolm marched across the plank between ships. His crew boarded behind him, swarming the deck and below. They searched every inch—from the captain's cabin to the bilge. "They cannot all be gone." He stormed to the deck and rushed toward the vessel's owner. "What did you do with them?"

William Fitz's onyx eyes flashed with triumph. "Do with whom?"

"Everyone aboard ship."

Slight sneer on his lips, Fitz said, "My men are all accounted for."

"Where are the others?" Malcolm yelled.

"I do not know what you are nattering about."

He lunged for the bastard's throat.

Malcolm ran a hand over his face, trying to erase the memory, the images, the utter helplessness. At the age of six and thirty, he had witnessed his share of cruelty in the world, but what happened to those innocent victims that day was unconscionable. The most infuriating part of it all was the lack of evidence to prove what Fitz had done.

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, he buttoned his naval uniform coat and took in the familiar sights and sounds while the hackney rumbled along the waking streets. In the middle of the night, he'd docked The Greyhound at the naval shipyard in Southampton and immediately hired this hackney to convey him to London. Per Malcolm's instructions, the coach approached the dockyard. Each time he returned to Town, the polluted air seemed worse, thicker, producing an incessant cloud overhead. The port grew wider and busier, resembling an ever-growing bee hive.

A stench waylaid him as the driver traversed the roads near the Thames. Malcolm rapped on the roof and the vehicle stopped. Jumping from the hackney, he joined the driver on the seat up front. As they drove, he scoured the harbor, looking for Fitz's vessel, and found it docked in its usual spot. When was the blackguard scheduled to leave port and with what aboard his ship?

Thankfully, the farther they rode from the river, the smell abated.

When the carriage took a sharp turn onto Dover Street, Malcolm inhaled a deep, chest-expanding breath. He used his family's townhouse when in London, having never purchased his own residence. He'd lived more of his adult life on the sea than land, and considered nowhere home.

Once he arrived at his family's light gray brick townhouse, Malcolm paid the driver and picked up his bag. He tried the door. Locked. Banging the polished brass knocker, he waited.

When the door opened, Barkly exclaimed, "Captain Westbourne. Good to see you, sir."

"Captain? Sir? Why so formal?" Malcolm clapped his friend's shoulder, receiving a pat in return. "I am relieved to be in London."

"For a day or two perhaps, but you will long for the sea soon. She is your mistress."

Malcolm laughed. "You know me well."

Dressed in livery, Barkly motioned to Malcolm's bag. "Allow me to help you." Ebony skin, as dark as his eyes, Barkly's tall stately frame filled the doorway. He had been fifteen when Malcolm rescued him ten years earlier. Father instantly agreed to employ Barkly when Malcolm explained the boy's plight.

"Malcolm," his brother's deep voice called.

He entered the house to find Trevor in the hallway next to the dining room. Malcolm had not expected his brother to be in London. No wonder Barkly was standing on formality.

Trevor looked most earl-like in tan trousers and a green waistcoat of the finest quality, his white cravat tied perfectly. "So glad you are home."

"What brings you to Town?" Malcolm shook his hand.

"We can discuss that later. I am sure you would enjoy a meal and a bath."

"Do I smell that bad? I could not tell with the stench of the city."

Trevor chuckled. "You do not reek. Would you join me in breaking my fast?"

Malcolm's stomach growled.

His brother grinned and gestured toward the dining room. "Breakfast awaits."

Turning to Barkly, Malcolm said, "If you would, please take my bag to my room and ask for a bath to be readied. Also..." He dug into his coat pocket and handed Barkly his compass. "I was thrown against the gunwale in a storm and the glass broke."

"I will take care of it."

"Thank you." Malcolm joined Trevor in the dining room. The scent of freshly cooked eggs and ham caused his stomach to grumble again. He savored every bite of his meal, glad to eat anything besides hardtack for breakfast. He continued to sip his tea while his brother Colin, his wife Antoinette, and Trevor's wife Margaret joined them.

Trevor looked at Malcolm over the rim of his cup. "Was your trip successful?"

"Yes." He didn't elaborate. His family knew he was a Royal Navy officer, and that he served in the West Africa Squadron upholding the abolition of slave trading before being assigned to stopping the abductions of English workhouse children. But he never shared the details of his job with them. He saw no reason to describe the degradation he'd witnessed or give them reason to worry over his safety.

"Will you be on land for a while?" Trevor asked.

He nodded. "I hope to be."

"What do you plan to do while in London?" Without waiting for an answer, Trevor spoke again. "I am quite sure I can gain another ticket to the theater tonight, would you like to accompany us?"

Margaret grabbed Trevor's hand. "Malcolm has just arrived. Must you question him to death?" Everyone knew Trevor woke in a jovial, talkative mood each morning, while his wife, decidedly, did not.

"It is all right, Margaret." Malcolm answered more of Trevor's questions, then asked one of his own. "Are Beatrice and Mary due to arrive soon?" With his brothers in London, he expected his sisters and their families might be on their way.

Colin and Trevor glanced at each other. "Not that we are aware of." Colin went on to invite Malcolm to other outings they had planned for that week. His brothers, like himself and his sisters, had dark-brown eyes and brown-reddish hair. Trevor and Colin wore their hair short and it had begun to gray around the temples, while Malcolm's reached his collar and showed no signs of aging.

Throughout the conversation, Malcolm felt an urge to confide in them about his relationship with their father but was unsure how they would react. Malcolm's siblings shunned Father for years before his death because of a misunderstanding, and Malcolm had pretended to do the same. But he'd actually visited Father anytime he was in port.

Eventually, he excused himself to bathe and dress in a fresh uniform. The huge bed in his chamber made up with a royal blue counterpane that matched the drapes, looked decidedly appealing, but he was never one to lie about in bed all day.

Unless he had a female companion.

The vision of Miss Katherine Ashby, her brown eyes smiling, flashed like a miniature painting in his mind. A year had passed since he'd seen her, but he still remembered her every feature in vivid detail.

He left his room, trod down the stairs, and knocked on the study door before entering. Trevor sat behind the teakwood desk, and Colin faced him in a wingback chair. Their father had traveled extensively, to India and beyond, and this study housed everything from brass incense burners to gold-handled, razor-sharp bayonets.

"Have you seen my messages?" Malcolm asked.

Trevor pointed to the side table where a pile of missives waited. Malcolm riffled through the stack, searching for a particular letter.

Nothing from Katherine.

Damn her.

He did find a message from Miss Celeste Young though. She apologized for her absence from their scheduled night over a year ago and requested his presence again—detailing the many pleasurable activities she planned for them to share.

Why wasn't his body standing at attention? Why wasn't he excited at the prospect of bedding Celeste? He brushed off his lack of enthusiasm as weariness from his journey. Retrieving a quill and paper, he wrote a response, agreeing to meet Celeste three nights hence.

If Katherine continued to avoid him, he would do whatever it took to expunge her from his thoughts. Celeste's invitation was just the thing.

He brought the letter to the foyer table to put with the rest of the outgoing posts. Before he threw it in with the others, he paused.

If only Katherine...

No. She'd made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing to do with him. He tossed his reply on the stack and marched back to the study. A quarter-hour later, done reading his mail, he arranged them in order of importance.

"Malcolm," Colin said. "There is a matter I..." He shared a look with Trevor, the same as the glance at the dining table. "We need to discuss with you."

A pinch of resentment tweaked in his chest at his brothers' relationship. They were close, as brothers should be. Malcolm was much younger and never enjoyed the same comradeship with them.

He sat in the chair next to Colin.

"This is a somewhat delicate matter." Colin rose and shut the door.

"One which will need a certain..." Trevor closed the account book in front of him. "Discretion."

Malcolm nodded. "I understand."

Colin paced the Persian rug. "Ten years ago, when Antoinette and the girls traveled to Bath to visit her aunt, I became involved with a woman. Her husband was fighting in the Peninsula war at the time. We were both quite lonely."

Though he detested the fact Colin betrayed his wife, Malcolm masked his emotions. Affairs were a common occurrence among the ton, but he expected more from his brother.

"Six months after the affair began, the woman vanished. A year after her disappearance, I received a summons and met with her. That's when I learned she had borne a son."

"Your son?" A throb pounded in Malcolm's temple as he processed his brother's revelation.

"She claimed so."

"You had doubts?"

"Perhaps at first, but after I saw the boy there was no question to his fatherhood. He resembled me too much."

"Then she didn't bear a son, she bore your son," Malcolm clarified.

"As you say." Colin stopped and turned to face Malcolm. "She explained the babe resided at St. Lucien's Orphanage in Reading."

"The mother did not keep the child?" Malcolm's temper spiked as if a mast was thrust into his brain. He struggled to keep his voice even. "Did you offer to raise the boy?"

"How could I? Antoinette had just moved back home, and she knew nothing of the affair. Still doesn't. When she left for Bath in such a temper, I had misgivings she would ever return. But that happened years ago. We worked out our differences. I love Antoinette."

Malcolm stood, crossed his arms, and waited.

"As soon as I learned about the child, I visited to check on him and give a stipend. That is when I met the manager, Tomas, who assured me the boy—"

"Use his name," Malcolm interrupted. If his brother used the child's name, perhaps he would become more compassionate toward the boy.

"Charles. His name is Charles. I continued to meet with Tomas once a year. He promised me of the boy's happiness living there."

Who could believe the words of an orphanage manager? It was common knowledge many of them mistreated the children and pocketed the financial contributions. Not all of them, of course. He felt certain Katherine involved herself in every facet of her orphanage and the children at Harrington's were treated well. And loved. She never stopped talking about them the first time he met her.

"I received a missive three days ago from Tomas explaining Charles had vanished." Colin scratched his forehead. "And Charles is not the only one. There are others."

"From orphanages?" A prickle of awareness swept Malcolm's spine. He knew all too well what happened to many of the missing children in England.

"Yes." Colin spoke quickly. "Close to a dozen children."

And those were the ones reported. How many others had been taken that no one cared about or noticed missing? Another thought hit him. What about Katherine's children? If any of her orphans turned up missing, she would be devastated.

"Tomas alerted a magistrate and the Bow Street Runners. Malcolm, we are here to ask for your help."

"I will see what information I can find." Malcolm grabbed his messages and hastened across the room, then stopped at the doorway to glare at Colin. "You must inform Antoinette. And do it soon. I do not plan to keep secrets from your wife."

Once out of the room, he strode to the table where he'd tossed the note for Celeste, but the stack was gone. He doubted he would make his night with the beautiful courtesan. That was probably for the best; she was not the woman he desired.

His concentration must center on uncovering information about the children, but that would be a challenge since his thoughts constantly reverted to Katherine. He hoped her beloved orphans were safe.

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LEVI

?Tess St. John

Levi Danby entered his office, flipping on the light switch. Exhausted, he dropped into the executive chair behind his leather-topped desk and closed his eyes. This morning he'd arrived at work before five to check on a patient and right now he wanted nothing more than to get back to his apartment and sleep. He looked forward to the day his house at the back of the clinic property would be finished.

"Dr. Levi?" one of his evening crew said from the door.

"Yeah, Nigel?"

"Juliana's here."

Levi pried his eyes open and checked the clock on the wall. Five, closing time. Poor Princess must be hurting. He'd never seen a cat who suffered so many urinary tract infections. Of course, if she lost five pounds the infections would probably go away. "Show her and Princess to a room."

Nigel shook his head. "Princess isn't with her."

"Then what does she want?"

"She didn't say."

"Send her in." He and his brothers knew Juliana from high school. Levi had been surprised when, more than ten years after they graduated, Brock brought her to Sunday dinner at Pops' house. A few short months later they were married.

Levi wiped his tired eyes.

"I hope this isn't an inconvenient time." Juliana closed the door behind her. Brunette hair slicked back into a ponytail, she wore a short jean jacket over a red dress.

He stood and kissed her cheek. "What's so important it couldn't wait until Sunday dinner?"

She sat on the edge of one of the chairs facing his desk, and he plopped back into his.

"Well, as you know, the Hot Firemen Calendar was a huge success. Now they want to do one highlighting businessmen who work and live in Houston. It's titled Houston Hotties."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"I suggested you. You're perfect for this. You started and run an extremely successful business. You're generous to the community, your logo is on sponsorships everywhere." Her brows lifted. "And I've taken enough photos of you to know the camera loves you."

He opened his mouth to say no.

She raised her hand. "Let me explain before you blow me off. I will come here to the clinic to photograph you, so all you have to do is pose. And the proceeds are going to charity."

"What charity?"

"You'll have a say in that. The profits will be divided between the models' choices and another couple of organizations the committee putting it together has chosen."

He definitely wasn't model material, although he did like the idea of being able to pick a charity to donate some of the proceeds to.

"They're planning for this to be huge." She kept on, talking quickly. "Your charity would get an equal share. And all you have to do is take a picture."

"How naked do I have to be?"

She smirked. "Not totally naked." Her expression became serious and her voice took on a pleading tone. "Please, Levi. It would be great exposure."

He chuckled. "Exactly what I'm afraid of."

~

Levi pulled back thedressing on Beauregard's stomach, pleased the skin around the sutures appeared healthy and pink. The gray cat licked his hand. "You're doing great, boy." After replacing the bandage over the stitches, Levi scratched behind the cat's ears.

The front door chimed. He closed Beauregard's cage, stepped from the operating room, down the hall, and opened the door to the lobby.

Trying to control a pack of puppies scurrying this way and that, a woman held the glass front door open, her red hair whipping around her face.

His heart skipped a beat. He'd only met one woman with hair that color. But it couldn't be her.

The dozen or so leashes she held tugged in different directions. The six-week-old yellow Labrador puppies had coats as white as fresh snow. She finally corralled the dogs, entered the office, and shut the door.

The air now still, he made out her profile.

He froze.

It was her. What was Candice Purdy doing here? It'd been five years since he'd seen her, tasted her lips, smelled her skin, made love to every inch of her body.

His body hardened, remembering.

The pups chaotically strained against their tethers. Candice yelped as the leashes tangled around her ankles and she lost her footing, landing ass down on the white tile floor. Thinking she was playing, the puppies began jumping on her, licking her, and barking.

She giggled. "Stop, guys, stop." Her laugh genuine, infectious—and unforgettable.

An unwanted grin tugged at his mouth. Nearing her, he coached himself to remember she'd rejected him. Left him.

"Do you need some help?" he asked.

Her laughter instantly died. She stared up at him. "Levi."

He tried not to notice her hair spread on the floor like it used to feather across his pillow, tried not to notice her innocent eyes—so deceptively trusting, tried not to focus on her plump pink lips, but honestly, they were made for sin.

"Hi, Candice. You okay?" He reached out and she placed a hand in his and let him lift her to a seated position. Which needed to happen, she created too much of a temptation lying there.

"Fine. Simone asked me to bring the puppies." Simone was a friend of theirs from college who bred Labradors. "She said they were for some photo shoot."

"Yeah. The photographer, my sister-in-law Juliana, is running late. Guess that makes you early. A first for you." He crouched down next to her and patted one of the puppy's heads and the others swarmed him, each clambering over the other for his attention.

"Simone said you were picked to be a Houston Hottie. Mr. January, I believe?"

"My sister-in-law asked me to do the calendar."

She smiled. "Well, I hear it's for a good cause."

"That's the reason I agreed. Lots of charities will benefit."

She picked up a pup and placed it in her lap. "Aren't they the cutest things?"

He was looking at the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Her. Not classically beautiful, her red hair and brown eyes complimented her freckles and light skin.

One of the puppies whined and hiked his tiny leg.

Levi tugged the pup's leash. "We better let them out before they start peeing everywhere."

She laughed. "I think you're right."

After helping her stand, he took the leashes and led her and the puppies to the huge fenced-in yard out the back door. He unhooked the dogs and let them run free.

Candice's hair glistened in the sunshine, catching sparks of gold among the red. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she hadn't gained an ounce in the last few years. He peeked at her left hand, no wedding ring. "Have you moved back to Houston?" he asked.

"I have. I had enough of New York."

A pinch of resentment twisted inside his chest. She'd left him for her career.

"My big break wasn't all it was cracked up to be. And I couldn't catch another. Now I'm teaching dance."

"I'm sorry." And he was. He wished it'd worked out for her.

Her sorrowful eyes met his. "Me too. Very sorry."

He made a straight line with his lips, feeling his heart buoy a bit at her confession.

She glanced away. "I was a fool to leave like I did. Please forgive me for being young and stupid, Levi."

"There's nothing to forgive."

"Yes, there is. I threw us away." The wind blew tendrils of hair into her face.

He just stopped himself from lifting his hand and brushing the hair from her cheek. "It happened a long time ago."

"Are you married?"

He shook his head.

"Engaged?"

"No."

"Same Levi. I've got to drag any little morsel of information out of you."

"I'm not the same."

"You appear the same." Her eyes leisurely surveyed him, starting at his face, down to his shoes, and back to his face. "Tall, gorgeous, and if memory serves me right, a body that doesn't quit."

Images of their bodies intertwined and tangled in the sheets seared his mind. They'd been great together—and life sizzled when they dated. Everything sizzled.

He didn't answer her statement. He'd never stopped wanting her.

"The worst part was how much I missed you," she said. "You were my best friend."

"You were mine, too, Candice."

"I never went out with another man I felt such a strong connection to—like the one we shared."

He hadn't met another woman either, but didn't confess the same. Studying her face, he saw regret. Their gazes held.

After a second, she glanced at her watch. "Did the photographer say what time she'd be here?"

"Four."

"Four? That's not for a couple of hours." She put a hand to her stomach. "I'm starved. Would you like to grab a bite?"

Spending time with her was dangerous. Years ago he'd told himself he'd gotten over her. Seeing her now, he wasn't completely sure. "We can't leave these puppies unattended. I let the staff off this afternoon and canceled my appointments. I didn't want them around for the photo shoot."

Her brows playfully rose, her dark eyes brimming with humor. "What kind of pictures are these?"

An unwanted laugh escaped him. She'd always been able to make him laugh. "You'll have to buy a Houston Hotties Calendar to find out."

"Are they taking orders?"

Like she needed a calendar. She'd touched, caressed, and kissed him everywhere. He scrubbed a hand over his face trying to distract himself from his thoughts. "I'll order lunch."

~

Thirty minutes later, Candice sat in the backyard on a lawn chair watching the puppies playing in the grass around her. The March weather was nice, not too cool, and thankfully not hot yet.

Levi must be doing well; this facility was amazing. A small barn loomed behind the huge yard. Off to the left of the office stood a covered area, most likely used for obstacle courses and such. His dreams of owning his own clinic had come true. A part of her heart warmed.

The back door opened and Levi came out. His brown wavy hair had blond highlights and brushed his shirt collar. His skin seemed tanner than she remembered, and his hazel eyes still had the ability to make her melt.

She gripped the handles of the chair, stopping herself from running to him and begging for forgiveness. No, she would have to win him back honestly, stating her intentions upfront, and wait for him to either reject or accept her.

His arms were full with a tray packed with boxes of Chinese food, drinks, napkins, and chopsticks. "You always liked spicy food. I hope that's still true." He set the tray on a tiny wooden table between her chair and another, then he sat.

"I like spicy everything." Levi being the spiciest man she'd ever known.

"I remember," he mumbled, never glancing her way while twisting open a bottle of tea. He was being kind to her, however, pain lingered in his expression.

Why had she been so foolish years ago and taken off for New York when she could have stayed with him?

He opened a box of food and used a set of chopsticks to take a bite.

Befuddled, she forced herself to relax. She opened one of the containers nearest to her. "Levi, will you go out with me?"

"Out?"

"On a date."

His arm slowed as he ate another bite. "Why?"

"It'd be nice to catch up on what's been happening in your life and find out how your family's doing."

He drank from his bottle of tea. "Not a good idea."

"Why?" Like she needed to ask.

"You made your choice, Candice. We can't go back."

"I don't want to go back."

He shooed a fly from his food. "Then what do you want?"

"I'm asking for another chance."

"A chance for what? A friendship? A relationship?" He shrugged. "I gave you everything I had when we were together, it was never enough."

Her face heated, his words were true. "Levi, I never knew if you were considering a future with me."

"I was just finishing vet school. I had student loans out the ass. I was in no position to make you promises."

"You could have told me—"

"Don't say I could have told you I loved you. I told you repeatedly."

She sat forward. "Yes, you did, but you might have at least told me you were considering building a future with me. I don't know...grab a Cracker Jack box and give me a toy ring. Some grand gesture to lead me to believe you would ask me to marry you one day."

"We had plans to move in together. Why would I have been doing that if I wasn't thinking of the future?" He let out a frustrated sigh. "Hell, I'm sure I could have done a lot of things differently, but there was no doubt in your mind I planned to build a life with you."

"You never said it."

"I didn't have to." He glared at her. "You refused to believe I was different from your father, no matter what I did."

In her heart she'd understood Levi loved her, he'd said it often enough and shown her every day. However, when her graduation came and went without a proposal from him, doubts of his intentions set in and she'd become terrified she'd end up like her mother. Unwed, alone, and pregnant.

"Anyway, I can't give you or anyone that much of myself again." He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"I'm asking for a date, not for all of you, Levi."

"You will." He scowled. "Let's not pretend we don't know each other very well. With you, love is all or nothing. You refused to even try a long-distance relationship when you left."

"A part of me believed if you loved me, you would have dropped everything to come to New York after me."

He stared at her, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"I know." She rubbed her forehead. "Another grand gesture I expected you to make."

He let out a long breath. "The bottom line is you wanted things I couldn't give you, Candice."

"I'm not that same silly girl anymore."

"Doesn't help. I loved that silly girl."

Her heart flipped. "I loved you too."

"Not enough."

Tears clogged her throat, she swallowed them. "You're stubborn as ever."

"I'm careful, there's a difference."

His words pierced her heart. "Like I said, I was a fool." Forcing the words, she said what she'd come to say. "For what it's worth, if I had it to do over, I would have stayed."

He glanced away from her.

"It's the truth."

Setting down his food, he put a hand to his temple as if fighting a headache. A puppy playfully bit at the end of one of his tennis shoe strings and tugged. Levi reached down and picked up the puppy, placing it in his lap. He rubbed behind the dog's ears and the puppy shut his eyes in ecstasy. She remembered how his touch had done the same thing to her. Heat blazed through her insides.

His hazel eyes bore into hers. "I wish you would have stayed."

"Why didn't you ask me to?"

"And be the one who stopped you from chasing your dream? To live with that resentment the rest of our lives? No, thank you."

"But you didn't even act like you cared if I left."

"Do you remember that day?" He sat forward in the chair, his frustrated tone making his words hard to hear. "I'd been up for at least forty hours straight studying, taking finals, and working at the emergency clinic. I arrived at my apartment and you were there, sitting on my bed, and said you'd auditioned for Bewitched and got the part. Your big break." He exhaled, his voice softening. "And that it started at the end of the week in New York. I was in shock. You'd already signed a contract to work with the Houston Ballet. I'd secured a job with an emergency clinic here on the north side of town. Hell, we'd signed a lease on an apartment together."

Silence stretched between them. How unfair she'd been to him. She wouldn't take him back if he'd done the same to her. How could she repair the damage she'd caused? Her life was empty without him.

"Can we try to put the past behind us, Levi?"

"I'm not sure."

Her heart leapt. He hadn't come out and said no. She rose from her chair and bent over, pressing her lips to his. She tentatively rubbed the back of her fingers over his cheek. He tasted the same—spicy and hot. "How I've missed you," she whispered against his lips.

He groaned. She realized he'd set the puppy on the ground when he tugged her into his lap and sat her across his knees, one hand holding her nape. Their attraction, their sexual connection, was still alive.

Abruptly, he pulled back and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "We can't pick up where we left off."

"I know." So happy not to get a total refusal, had she pushed too hard by kissing him? He'd gone from smoking hot one minute to cool and collected the next. How did he change from one to the other so swiftly?

He held up her arm and checked her watch. "Juliana will arrive soon."

She wasn't ready to get up, to lose the feel of his heat. "Let me take you on a date."

As if powerless to stop himself, he sifted her hair through his fingers. He'd always loved her hair, talked of how silky it was, how he loved the color.

"Tomorrow night. What do you say?" Her heart almost stopped when he didn't answer.

He stared at her lips.

She stood and winked. "I'll pick you up here at seven."

"If you're late the date's off."

While they'd dated, she'd been notoriously tardy. "Okay." No way would she be late. She tilted her head toward the door leading inside. "Can I meet your patients?" She used to visit him a lot when they attended Texas AM in College Station, and he worked for one of the vet offices near campus.

"Sure." He stood and threw away their trash, then held out a hand to her.

She slid her hand into his, the simple act so right, so comfortable. He led her back into the building. Dozens of leashes hung near the door, she'd been too in awe of Levi to notice them earlier. In the first room they entered, harsh fluorescent lights lit the white tile floor and light green walls. One wall was lined with cages holding half a dozen dogs and three cats. He told her about each one as he opened the cage doors and they petted the animals. In another similar room, he housed a quarantined ferret that had the flu.

They entered the surgery room. It had the same white tile that ran throughout the clinic, the walls painted army green. Two gurneys lined the wall next to various medical carts holding different machines and instruments.

"Wow, Levi."

"Glad you approve." He walked to a lone cage positioned on one of the carts and opened the door. "This is Beauregard."

She stepped forward and rubbed the cat's ears, noting the bandage on his tummy. "What happened?"

"Bladder stones. I removed them yesterday. We're keeping him as immobile as possible, that's why he's in such a tiny cage."

The cat licked her hand and purred.

"He's a charmer." Levi grinned and set the cat back into the cage, then took a step toward her. His gaze locked with hers.

"It's hard to believe it's been five years. You haven't changed a bit. You're as pretty as ever." His words were sweet, but she saw a lonely longing in his eyes.

Would he kiss her again? Deeper this time, like he used to. Like she wished.

Taking another step closer, he raised his hand.

A chime sounded.

He stopped, letting his hands fall to his sides.

Damn. So close and yet so far.

He pointed toward the door. "My sister-in-law."

"I have to go anyway. Simone expected the shoot would be over sooner than this. I'm teaching a class later this evening, so I'll return the van to her and tell her to pick up the dogs." She followed him down the hallway.

"Thanks for dropping them off," he said.

They stopped before opening the door to the lobby. She put an index finger over her mouth and whispered like she was telling him a secret. "I begged Simone to let me bring them." Confession out, she opened the door, dodged around the photographer, and hurried to the front entrance.

"Don't be late tomorrow," Levi called.

"Not to worry." She trotted to Simone's van, slid behind the steering wheel, and gunned the engine. As she exited the parking lot, a delicious shiver ran through her. He wanted her. She felt it in his restraint when he kissed her and saw that yearning in his eyes. Now, if only she might figure out a way to make him remember the good times they'd shared, the companionship, the love.

~

"Who was that?" Julianaasked in a chipper voice as she hugged him.

"My ancient past."

"So that's Candice?"

Since Juliana and his brother Brock had been together almost a year, Levi felt sure Brock told her many details about his brothers. "Yeah, that was her."

"She's cute."

He nodded. Cute. If only he could trust that cuteness.

Juliana must have sensed he didn't want to get into a conversation about his ex because she switched topics. "I told Pops about this photo shoot. He's already telling his friends they have to buy a calendar."

He smiled at the thought of Pops insisting his friends buy calendars with pictures of eligible young men.

"I believe he has a girlfriend." Juliana handed Levi a large black bag, no doubt her cameras were inside. "When I stopped by yesterday a woman was eating lunch with him at his condo."

"Ms. Avery?"

"Yes. You've met her?"

"No. Pops mentioned she brings him lunch some days. I thought only food was involved."

She laughed. "Maybe that's all it is, but they seemed rather chatty with one another."

Pops and Mimi, his adopted parents, had taken him in at the age of ten after he'd been moved from yet another foster home. He'd lived in foster homes for as long as he could remember. His parents were killed in a boating accident when he was only two, so Levi had no memories of them. He did remember being shuffled from different house to different house until being sent to Pops and Mimi. There he found a home he never wanted to leave.

Seeing Pops with another woman might be hard for Levi and his brothers—who they'd also adopted—but they certainly wanted the old man to be happy. Since Mimi's death, Pops had put up a brave face, although he must miss her terribly. They were very much in love and showed the boys what it meant to love another unconditionally.

"I guess he needs someone to do things with," he said.

She gave him a sad smile. "Everyone needs someone."

"There you go again, trying to match-make. No matter how much you beg me, I won't be set up on a blind date, Juliana."

"You've made that perfectly clear. I'm wondering about her." She pointed to the door Candice had left through. "As I understand you really loved her."

"And she left me. I'll keep to my animals, thank you. They're grateful creatures." And easier to deal with than humans.

"Oh, I understand. And when they lock you up because you claim to be the animal whisperer, I'll explain human relationships were just too much for you."

He never liked how Juliana seemed to be able to see right through him. "What are you getting at?"

"Have you even dated since you and Candice broke up?"

"Of course I have."

"Seen someone seriously?" She unzipped the bag he held for her.

"I've been too busy getting this practice off the ground."

"And you've been too hurt." Her soft-spoken words were not a question.

He looked away.

Yes, he had to admit, his heart still stung.

~

Candice arrived atthe clinic an hour early for her date with Levi. Sales products for pet lovers lined one wall, chairs another. Opposite the chairs loomed a huge registration desk.

What looked to be a family was huddled together. The woman held a little boy on her lap while the man sat next to them and a tiny girl stood in front of him, holding his hands. "You can't see him yet, honey. Dr. Levi is working on Panther," the man said.

Candice sat next to the family remembering Levi introducing her to Panther yesterday.

The blonde girl smiled at her, her two front teeth missing.

The door to the hallway opened and Levi came out with the sleek, black greyhound on a leash. The kids raced toward Panther. "Only pet him on the head, guys." Hair mussed, Levi wore green scrubs.

He glanced at Candice, at the clock on the wall, and then his gaze settled on her with a questioning look.

Her heart gave a kick.

Attention back on the family, Levi said, "Panther will need a few more weeks of rest and you'll have to bring him in once a week for a month to check his progress."

While the kids gently stroked the dog's head, as if afraid to touch him, the mother thanked Levi and took the leash, leading the dog and children out of the office. The man held out his hand to Levi. "Can't thank you enough." He glanced at the door to make sure the kids were out of earshot. "Amber and Shane would have been devastated had Panther died."

"I'm glad we got him diagnosed and removed the spleen before it did any damage. He'll be good as new in a month."

"Thanks, doc." The man pumped Levi's hand, then followed his family to their car.

Levi leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. "You're early."

She kept sitting. "Better early than late."

"True." He frowned. "I've got a quick surgery. Want me to meet you somewhere?"

"No. I'll wait."

Straightening away from the doorway, he said, "You look beautiful."

A smile came all the way from her heart. "Thank you."

"I won't be long."

He walked away, and she bowed her head and tried to calm her racing heart. His compliment, one he'd given her so often, one she'd taken for granted when they were together, gave her hope. Her desire was for him to begin to refer to her as angel again. When they'd dated, that had been his pet name for her. If she'd just hear that name from his lips, she could believe anything between them was possible.

She leafed through one of the veterinarian magazines on the coffee table and read a couple of articles. Clients and staff traipsed in and out while she waited. Forty-five minutes later, Levi came into the lobby, wavy hair wet, dressed in black slacks and a blue sweater.

God, he's gorgeous.

"You showered?" she asked.

"Yeah, I had a shower installed next to my office when the clinic was built." He smiled. "You ready?"

The sweater made his hazel eyes look a bit more blue than green. She'd always loved how his eyes changed colors—from hazel to green to blue to gray—with whatever he wore.

"Am I taking you from anything?" she asked.

"Nah. I've got my phone. They'll call if I'm needed. I have two people who work the evenings and one who takes the night shift." He checked the wall clock. "We're fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. Who would ever have believed it?"

In college, her dance rehearsals always lasted longer than planned. And since sleep was a rare commodity, sometimes she would plan to take a short nap before their dates and accidentally sleep for hours. "I'm sorry. How many hours did you spend waiting for me?"

"Too many to count." He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. "Shall we?"

"I'm driving," she said. "I asked you out."

"Fine by me." He locked the front door after they exited. "Where are you taking me?"

"Would you pick a place? I'm not familiar with this side of the city." She'd grown up in south Houston and his practice was forty miles away on the north side of town, in a rural area.

"What are you hungry for? Mexican, Italian, burgers?" he asked.

They settled on a Mexican restaurant that served green salsa to die for. They were seated at a small table in the back, not quite secluded, but far enough from other tables so no one overheard their conversation. Decorated in browns and beiges, the restaurant was classy, not cheesy like many Mexican establishments with loud bright colors. After the meal, she put her napkin on her plate and picked up her strawberry margarita. "How did the shoot go yesterday?"

"Fine."

"What was the picture? How were you posed?"

"Juliana did a Happy New Year's theme since I'm Mr. January. She brought bow ties for the dogs and a tuxedo for me. She took it in my surgery room on a gurney with six puppies lined up on each side of me. We waited until two of my employees showed up to help keep the pups on the table."

"Sounds precious." She played with the straw in her drink. "How's your family?"

"Pops is good. Mimi passed away a few years back."

Her heart squeezed. "Oh, Levi, I'm so sorry. I know how much you loved her."

"Yes, she was great. We all miss her." He drank from his water glass. "All my brothers are married now. As I'm sure you know, JC's singing career is going really well. How about your family?"

"My brother and his wife are fixing to have twin boys and my sister and her husband have two girls."

"Tell me about New York," he said, his tone a bit hard.

She sipped on her salty, sweet drink. "Too many people, too little room. After living in Texas I was used to space. There's none in New York City."

"I felt the same way when I visited." He half-smiled. "I came to see you in Bewitched."

Alarm struck through her.

Levi placed his napkin on the table. "Two months after you left I had this stupid idea I would come to the Big Apple and you would be miserable and I would profess my undying love for you. And take you home with me."

Unable to move or speak, she simply stared at him.

"The show had been sold out, so I bought a ticket off a scalper." He moved his plate forward on the table. "You were phenomenal. After the show, I stood outside the stage door waiting for you. You came out arm in arm with a tall guy. You looked happy, like you were living your dream."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Looks can be deceiving."

"You weren't happy?"

"I convinced myself that was the life I wanted. I had dreamt about it for so long. But no, I haven't been happy since I left you."

"I'm not sure you were ever really happy with me either, Candice."

"I was."

His intense expression softened to the look he wore often while they dated. He leaned over and grabbed her hand. His phone must have vibrated, because he let go of her and pulled it from his pants pocket to check a text. "Damn. I've got to get back to the office. There's an emergency."

Startled, she stood so quickly her chair overturned and clattered to the floor. "What happened?"

He righted the chair. "One of the dogs I've treated since a pup was hit by a car. My patrons usually bring their animals to emergency clinics after hours, but the family is so distraught, they brought him to my office instead."

"I've got to find the waiter and pay," she said.

Levi pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and threw it on the table. He placed his hand on her lower back and rushed her out of the restaurant. She tossed him her keys as they neared her car.

He raced back to his office and parked around the side. Once through the door, they were met by a young man in scrubs with a mask on his face. "Chocolate was hit by a car going approximately thirty-five miles an hour. I've administered a sedative, yet he continues to whimper and bite his front left leg."

They entered a surgery prep room, complete with large sinks and industrial-size faucets. Levi began scrubbing his hands with liquid soap.

The boy's voice sounded slightly muffled by his mask. "Heart rate is thirty. And his temperature is ninety-six."

"Damn." Levi glared through the glass window.

She followed his line of vision to the gurney in the middle of the room and her heart sank. What looked to be a lab-mix lay on his side biting his paw, which sat at a sickeningly odd angle.

"X-rays?" Levi asked.

"Full body. Casey should have them up any minute."

"Thanks, Nigel. I'll be right in." Levi turned off the faucet, tugged on some surgical gloves, and turned toward her. "Candice. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Go."

"Send a couple of good thoughts Chocolate's way."

"I will, but he doesn't need them." She cupped his cheek. "He has you."

He quickly kissed her, appreciation on his face. "You always say the right thing." He pushed the surgery room door with his elbow and Nigel immediately positioned a mask around Levi's nose and mouth.

She contemplated watching the surgery, but if the dog didn't make it, it would upset her too much. Backing out of the prep room, she sent up a quick prayer as she made her way to one of the rooms with the cages and animals. She found Beauregard in a larger cage, the cat alert and meowing.

"What's the matter?" She opened the cage and tenderly picked him up. The bandage on his belly was gone, the stitches exposed. Careful not to touch anywhere around the tender spot, she cradled the cat and walked around. "You'd probably like a change of scenery, huh?" An hour later, after taking each animal out of their cage and giving them attention, she cleaned her hands and grabbed a treat bag. She'd washed her hands after touching each animal, ever mindful of everything Levi had taught her about visiting patients.

"Candice," a voice called from the door. She turned to find Nigel. "Levi wondered if you were waiting. He said he's not sure how long the surgery will take."

"How's Chocolate? Will he make it?"

"If Dr. Levi has anything to say about it he will."

She nodded, certain the boy was right. "I'll be leaving." On the drive home, she wondered how often Levi's nights were ruined like this, by this emergency or that one. She took the on-ramp to Beltway 8 and replayed the night. How they'd been comfortable with one another. Amiable.

When he mentioned he'd come to New York, her heart shrieked with pain. How she wished he'd come to her then. Saved her from herself.

However, she would have refused him, not able to trust him enough. The pain her mother suffered, and never having met her father, Candice was terrified all men were like him. Poor Levi didn't stand a chance against her imagination or the hurt her unknown father inflicted.

An emptiness settled inside her. The familiar emptiness that had been her constant companion without Levi in her life.

Would she see him again soon? Things hadn't turned out like she'd wished tonight. Maybe that was for the best. She'd been prepared to throw herself at him. Make him remember how good they'd been together. But she couldn't win him over with sex. Their relationship had been based on so much more—love, laughter, companionship. She wanted that connection with him again.

Once she made it to her apartment, she sat in the driveway unsure what to do next. Her instincts told her to drive back to his clinic and wait for him, but those were the same instincts that told her to leave him years ago.

No, she'd made her intentions clear. She'd apologized and asked for forgiveness.

Now she must take a step back and let him make the next move.

~

Levi opened the backdoor to Pops' condo. The gated retirement village was nestled in northwest Houston, only fifteen miles from Levi's clinic. "Hey, Pops."

"I'm in the living room, son."

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon, and Levi saw a pan of cinnamon rolls on the stainless steel stove. He quickly tore a paper towel from the dispenser and grabbed a couple of rolls. Popping one into his mouth, he enjoyed the decadent sweetness. Mimi's old recipe brought up memories of growing up.

"I stole a roll," Levi said as he entered the living room. He held up the other one. "Well, two."

"I made them to be eaten." The TV was on, the volume low, and Pops sat in his black leather recliner. "What brings you by so early?"

"Mrs. Yeager's dog needs his shots. She called yesterday and I told her I'd be by this morning so she didn't have to take Hunter to the office."

"She needs to get her own veterinarian. You can't be expected to work for free and make house calls."

"I don't mind. Plus, it gives me an excuse to stop by."

"You can't make a living doing favors for your father's friends. Let me pay you." He sat up and tugged his wallet from his back pocket. "How much are shots?"

"Put your wallet away. You paid me in breakfast."

Pops scowled and replaced his wallet. "Doesn't seem fair."

"I'm happy to do it. What are your plans today?"

"Nita should be here soon for breakfast, and we're playing bingo this afternoon."

"Nita?"

"Yes, Nita Avery. We've been spending time together." Pops shrugged. "She's a good cook, not as good as Mimi, but better than me."

"I don't know, Pops, you've mastered Mimi's cinnamon rolls." He scarfed the other roll down and sat on the couch.

"Well, I watched her make them every Saturday for forty-five years. Hard to screw them up after that much time."

Levi smiled.

"How are you, son? Although we talk about how well the clinic is doing, I haven't heard you mention any girls lately."

"Subtlety was never your strong suit, Pops. I'm sure Juliana told you she saw Candice at my clinic."

"What was she doing there?"

"It's Juliana's fault. She wanted me to pose for that calendar photo with a dozen lab puppies, and Candice brought the puppies over for a mutual friend of ours. She's living in Houston now."

"What happened when you saw her? It's been what, five years?"

"Yeah. She apologized for everything."

"She needed to."

Levi chuckled. "Everything is so simple in your eyes. She wronged me, she needed to apologize to make it right."

"I'm not sure she can ever make it right. Her abandoning you like she did was too similar to when you lost your parents."

"I don't even remember them."

"Oh, son, I'm sure you don't, you were so young. But having your parents one day and losing them the next, I don't believe that kind of loss truly ever leaves a person, no matter their age."

Was Pops right? Was that why Candice's leaving hurt him so much? Since she left he'd had trust issues he didn't remember having in his youth.

"After you came to live with us, it took a long time before you truly trusted Mimi and me. Once the adoption went through, you finally understood we would never turn you out or let Child Protective Services move you."

Levi may not have remembered the feeling of abandonment, or been too young to understand it when his parents died, but the day of the adoption, he remembered being on his knees that night, next to his four adopted brothers, all of them thanking God they'd found the Danbys, each other, and a place they could call home.

Had life with the Danbys made it all the easier to fall in love with Candice? Should he have been more wary?

Thinking back to the first time he met her, he realized it wouldn't have mattered. He could not have stopped his heart from falling in love with her.

After leaving like she did, he should hate her. Something inside him couldn't be that callous. He still wanted her, missed her with every part of himself, and wondered what their lives would be like if she hadn't left.

~

Three days after herdate with Levi, Candice drove her car into the parking lot at Sarah Hamilton's School of Dance. She loved the old-fashioned dance studio, complete with hardwood floors and full-length mirrors on every wall. The work was oddly fulfilling. She'd always believed she must be on stage and performing to enjoy dance but found it refreshing that wasn't the case.

The ages of students in her classes ranged from three to eighty. Mostly females and a few males. It felt rewarding when she taught a new step or introduced her students to use their bodies freely.

As she grabbed her purse, she checked her phone. Levi hadn't called since their date had been interrupted. Clearly, he didn't want to pursue a relationship with her.

Well, she knew it would be a long shot for him to forgive her, for her to become his angel again. She didn't expect to take up where they left off, her impetuousness years ago was too much for him to forget. It wasn't as if she deserved a second chance, but she'd let herself get hopeful.

A sharp prick stabbed at her heart. Bowing her head, tears flooded her eyes.

~

Time neared six inthe evening as Levi cut his truck engine and jumped from the vehicle. His heart sputtered in his chest. He felt confused, exhilarated, and bewildered since Candice stumbled back into his life.

Happy as he'd been to spend time with her, his conscience warned him to be wary. She might do serious damage if he let her close again. But, of course, he hadn't listened to himself. Here he was, in pursuit of her. It'd taken him three days to contact Simone and she told him where Candice worked.

Her confidence in him the night of Chocolate's injury, the comforting words she uttered before he went into surgery, had stayed with him. She'd always been supportive of his work—talked to him through the night sometimes when he'd lost a patient.

Was she in earnest about his forgiveness and wanting to spend time with him? Or planning to entice him only to slam the door in his face? Could she ever trust him, or any man, with the issues from her childhood?

If her playful brown eyes were any indication, she truly did want to make amends. Why hadn't she called him?

He had to find out.

Inside the colorfully decorated dance studio, many young girls in black leotards and pink tights were standing, sitting, and stretching on the floor. He walked to the reception desk.

"Hello." An elderly gray-haired woman greeted him. "How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Candice Purdy."

"She's busy with a class. This session will be over in fifteen minutes if you'd like to wait. She's in the third room to the left."

"Thank you." He followed where the woman pointed. Three rows of chairs lined the back of the room for observers to watch. The seats were filled with moms and dads watching and talking softly. Levi stood at the open door.

A dozen tiny girls were scattered around the room. Candice slowly went through many ballet positions, naming each. A few of the girls paid attention, but most were too intent on watching themselves in the mirrors.

The adults laughed quietly, enjoying the girls' antics. Finally, Candice picked up a remote and music started playing. The girls each stopped and focused their attention on Candice. They followed her every move. He'd seen her brilliance in dancing on stage in big production numbers, and she obviously had a talent for teaching too. The short dance ended, and the onlookers clapped. The girls skipped over to their parents.

Still at the door, his attention centered on Candice.

She finally spotted him, a disconcerted expression on her face. Hurrying over, she said, "What are you doing here?"

"I've been searching for you for three days. I had your old number. A pissed-off sleepy man answered when I called. Simone finally returned my call this afternoon, and I asked her where you lived and worked. You could have at least left me your cell number."

"Oh, no." Humor flitted across her face. She tried to hold in a laugh, and failed, making him grin. "I didn't realize you didn't have my current number. I'm such a fool." She stepped closer to him, her face somber now. "How did it go with Chocolate?"

"Minimal internal bleeding. We stopped it and set his leg."

"How long did the surgery take?"

"We worked on him until midnight. He's been resting comfortably ever since."

"The most you can hope for. You always said car victims were the worst."

"They are. I'm sorry we didn't get to finish our date." He lowered his voice. "We weren't done, were we?"

"I wasn't sure." A bell rang and she moved from the door, motioning him to follow.

The kids called, "Bye, Miss Candice," and waved as they left with their parents.

When the last child filed out of the room, Candice turned to him. "I'm happy to see you. I told myself I wouldn't get in touch with you. I can't force you to forgive me and accept me back into your life."

"I found you as soon as I could."

"I'm so tickled you did."

He reached out and took her hand. "Are you busy this evening?"

"I am. I have three more classes to teach."

"I expected as much. Maybe another night we can finish our date."

"Tomorrow?" she asked shyly. "I get off at seven."

He nodded. "That sounds great. I'll come by your apartment around eight."

"I can't wait."

Taking a step forward, he brushed his lips to hers. "I'm glad I found you."

"Not as glad as I am."

~

Levi drove away fromthe dance studio with Candice nestled into the passenger seat of his truck. For the last two weeks, he and Candice had spent a lot of time together. He was working on forgiving her but knew he was being too guarded. They kissed maybe once a night. It wasn't as if he didn't want her. He ached for her. He just wasn't sure where his heart stood.

His cell phone vibrated. His office. "Damn. I've got to take this." He answered his phone. "Levi here." Nigel explained that a dog they'd done surgery on that afternoon was growling and gnawing at the cast Levi had put on one of her hind legs. "I'm on my way." He punched his phone off. "We need to run by the clinic."

"Of course."

Evening traffic clogged the streets. Even Beltway 8 crawled bumper to bumper.

"You were great with those little girls." He'd caught a bit of her class when he arrived early to pick her up. "They followed your every move. Well, when they weren't admiring themselves in the mirror."

With a laugh, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "They're fun. A lot of work, but fun. As always, dancing exhilarates me. The only thing I've ever been good at."

"Well, that isn't true."

Her eyes narrowed. "It isn't?"

He patted her thigh. "You have endless talents."

"Such as?"

His body stiffened as he remembered her talents in vivid detail. He shifted in his seat. "After watching you today, I would say you have a talent for teaching. You've always been incredibly limber—must be all those years of dance. And you make the best omelet I've ever eaten."

She smiled, then turned to stare out the passenger window.

He took a left into his parking lot. They entered the side door and Nigel met them in the hallway.

"How's the patient?" Levi asked.

Nigel frowned. "She won't leave the cast alone. Every time I check on her, she's chewing it."

"I'll give her something to help the pain." He turned to Candice. "If you'll excuse us."

She pointed down the hall. "I'll go check on your other patients. Maybe I can find them some treats."

Levi watched her walk down the hall and then he entered the surgery room where they'd been keeping Delilah. The German shepherd had gnawed halfway through the cast on her leg. "Hurts like the devil, doesn't it," he said, giving the dog a shot of deadening agent and sedative combined. Within minutes, Delilah stopped chewing, her eyelids heavy.

After removing the cast and putting another on the dog, Levi took a quick shower and found Candice where she said she'd be, handing out treats to the animals. "You'll spoil them."

She rolled her eyes. "Like you don't?"

Trying to look innocent, he held up his hands showing they were empty.

"You probably get on to your employees for being too lenient with the patients while you spoil them rotten."

"Who me?" He smirked. "Come out back. I want to show you something."

"Sure." She reached for his arm and they walked down the hallway.

~

The evening air wasdamp and cool, the sun having set thirty minutes ago. He led her across the yard they'd been in with the puppies and out a gate in the back. They followed a worn path in the grass, past the barn. "Where are you taking me?" She shivered. "I left my jacket in your truck."

Levi was in jeans and a button-down shirt and didn't appear the slightest bit cold. "I can keep you warm." He stopped and pulled her close.

She faced him and his cool lips captured hers. He tasted of the peppermint patty they'd shared in the car. She rubbed his chest. "You've always had a gift with animals. When did it start?"

He put his arm around her shoulder and continued down the path. "When I was twelve I watched our mutt, Mr. Jackal, suffer a seizure and die. After that, I read article after article on dog seizures and found it fascinating. From that moment on I knew I wanted to work with animals."

She stayed close to him, to his heat. "Twelve. You poor thing."

"No. It happened for a reason. Although I was upset about the dog dying, I also started having a clinical view of animals. I read more animal medical journals by the time I started school than most vets read during their careers. I can't save every animal that comes into my office, but I can diagnose quickly and that saves lives."

Security lights lit the path, and soon a beautiful ranch-style home came into view. Debris and dirt littered the front. She couldn't quite discern the color of the brick and stone.

"It's beautiful." She looked at Levi. The lights were not bright enough for her to make out his expression.

"The builders aren't quite finished yet. I haven't showed anyone. You're the first." He kissed her, his arms engulfing her.

Responding, she opened to him and invited him in.

The next second he backed her against the house. He leaned his forehead to hers. "I'm battling myself here, Candice. I want you. I've wanted you since you stumbled into the office and fell ass first on the floor. You're lucky I didn't take you right then and there."

"You have a hell of a poker face," she said. "You could have had me then and you can have me now."

He lifted his head and held her face in his hands. His eyes searched hers.

She let the truth of her love for him shine in her shadowed face.

He took her lips with greed, gratefulness, and tenderness.

She arched to press her body to his.

In an instant, he yanked a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the wooden front door. He pulled her through and slammed it shut. Nudging her back against the door, he made short work of her clothing as she did the same with his, discarding each piece to the floor.

Oh, to love him again would be heaven.

"Are you still on the pill?" he asked in a quiet plea.

"Yes."

"I never forgot how beautiful you are. Or stopped wanting you." His words caused contractions to spasm in her stomach.

Levi stilled. He smiled. His real smile. The one she remembered, the one he saved for her.

The next few minutes his hands and mouth worshiped her. He left not an inch of her skin untouched, and when his mouth finally returned to hers, her knees felt like jelly.

"I'd sell my soul for a bed right now," he muttered.

His teeth lightly scored the side of her neck—not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make her tingle all over.

"Candice." He breathed.

Oh, how she'd missed him.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze as he united their bodies. She saw the love in his eyes. Felt his love in her heart.

How could she ever have left this man?

He was the best thing she'd ever had in her life.

Their bodies were desperate for each other. Years of longing, of need, tensed inside her.

Eyes locked, they gave themselves over—body and soul—into each other's keeping. Way too soon, waves of ecstasy crashed over her.

His head dropped to her shoulder.

Joy spilled from her heart. "I missed you so much."

He hugged her. "As you can tell, I missed you a little too."

"A little?" She laughed. Her confidence lifted, she snuggled closer, loving his skin on hers. "Give me a chance, Levi. I was messed up from never having a dad or man in my life. I never trusted that you loved me."

"I tried to tell you, angel."

Her heart skipped a beat. He'd finally called her angel. "You did, and you showed me in every way. Let me earn your forgiveness."

He rubbed the side of her torso. "I'm obviously already working on forgiving you."

She smiled. The house was dark, except for the light from a security lamp blazing through a window. It smelled of fresh paint and wood. "I will do everything to gain your trust, Levi. I'm ready to—"

"Be yourself, Candice. Believe the things I tell you. Trust me." He kissed his way down her neck. "I would say we'll take this slow, but it appears neither of us has the patience for that."

She giggled uncontrollably. "Patience is overrated."

"I want a bed, and a week to reacquaint myself with your body." Levi's voice sent delicious chills over her.

Ear over his heart, she listened to his heartbeat for a minute. "This will work. I'm willing to give you time, space, whatever you need." She held him close, certain they would have to work for their relationship to survive, willing to do anything to have him in her life.

~

Four Months Later

Levi found Candice in the recovery room. She was busy petting a bunny who'd given birth two hours ago.

Uncomfortable with the Houston Hottie photo Juliana had blown up of him and the puppies, he still let his sister-in-law put the wall-length photo in this room. His patients' owners always commented on the picture, about how much they liked it. He'd dressed in a tux Juliana brought. Well, not the entire tux. He wore no shirt, just a bow tie and slacks, with the tux coat draped over one shoulder.

He approached Candice now and smiled when she turned toward him.

She was gorgeous, her red mane lively, her brown eyes twinkling.

He gently touched his lips to hers. "How did your day go?"

"Good. It took forever to get here, though." His house had been finished a couple of months now and she lived with him most of the time, but still had an apartment and worked on the south side of town. "I hate the traffic in this city."

The perfect opening for what he had planned. His heart throbbed. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her from the room and out the front door.

She went along, laughing. "Where are you dragging me?"

"I want to show you something."

Since it was summer, the sun sat high in the sky, even at seven in the evening. They walked across the parking area to the lot next door. "Did I ever tell you I own the land from the clinic to the corner?"

She shook her head.

"I received an inheritance from an aunt on my mother's side of the family soon after I finished school. It was a total surprise. Her will said she always felt guilty she didn't take me in after my parents died, so she left me the bulk of her estate. The money paid off my student loans and I had enough left to buy this property."

"How wonderful."

Blood pulsed in his ears. This was the biggest leap of his life. "I want to build you a dance studio."

"What?" She appeared unsure whether to laugh or cry.

"This part of town is surrounded by subdivisions. You'll have students in no time."

"You're building something for me?"

He pulled a Cracker Jack box from his pocket.

Spying him with watchful eyes, she carefully opened the box, to find another smaller box inside.

"I want to build a life with you. A future."

She didn't move.

"Without you, my life is dull, dead. With you, everything is bright, alive, and sizzles. Since the day I met you, I've loved you. Even those five years apart I never stopped." He inhaled a deep breath. "Candice, will you marry me?"

Bowing her head, she said, "You'll never understand how sorry I am for hurting you." She spoke like she hadn't heard his proposal.

"I do understand." The pounding in his ears was now as loud as a jackhammer.

"You don't. You could never understand." Her voice choked. "I will spend each day trying to make it up to you." When she lifted her head, he saw tears swimming in her eyes.

"Good. I'll let you, but first, you have to answer my question."

She flung her arms around his neck. "Yes, yes, yes."

Relief rushed through him. He took the small box from her and opened it.

She gasped.

He'd gone a bit overboard on the three-carat diamond, but found once he began planning this grand gesture, he wanted to give her the best of everything.

"I love it."

He placed it on her hand and she wiggled her fingers, the diamond sparkling in the sunshine.

"And I love you so much, Levi."

His heart found its normal rhythm and his ears quieted.

Suddenly, she grinned. "We should get married on New Year's Day. You are Mr. January."

"Any day, any time, any place. I'm yours."

She kissed his cheek. "I'm just glad no one else turned your head before I swallowed my pride and came back."

"I was waiting for you, angel."

Leaning her head against his chest, she said, "I'd been so intent on looking for my big break, that I failed to see that you were my big break, Levi."

Get your copy of the entire Danby Series NOW

Saving Lord CheswickExcerpt

?Tess St. John

London, England ~ Early Spring 1820

Graham Brinton woke to a banging knock beating into his skull like a mallet. He growled and scrunched his closed eyes. He'd consumed too much whiskey last night. Lately, he drank every day in celebration of his brother's return from the dead. It afforded him a reasonable excuse to be jug-bitten. In truth, drinking to excess had become a necessity to forget the war, his youth, and his life.

Funny thing, no matter how much he drank, he never forgot. He passed out from time to time, but when he woke the memories anxiously awaited him.

Another knock.

Blooming hell.He should've gone to his flat last night. His servants understood never to wake him unless the plagues of Hell were uprising. Likewise, the servants here at his brother's home knew as well.

The door hinges squeaked. "Graham?" his brother called.

He was glad to know the staff still respected his wishes. "Bugger off."

Tristan ignored the warning. "I would apologize if it was not two in the afternoon."

Graham buried his face deeper into the pillow. "I thought you and Millicent planned to hunt for bakery locations today."

"Ursula and Annise paid a visit before we had a chance to leave." His brother's footfalls neared the bed. "Nate is missing."

What?He lifted his head and flinched when the quick movement caused him a second of dizziness. Luckily, openings in the drapes let in enough sunlight to see without making him squint. "Officially?"

Tristan stood by the footboard, looking every bit the proper viscount in a dark blue suit and white cravat. "Not that I am aware. Ursula's upset because she has not received a letter from him in months. She believes something happened to him."

"A real possibility. Is Lord Belmont with her?"

"No. Her father thinks she is overreacting."

"I am sure he does. He's never cared for her feelings." He took a deep breath and stamped down his rising irritation. This was about Nate, not about the old pain Belmont caused Graham. "Damn Nate and how he romanticizes intelligence work."

"And damn him for being so good at it."

"That too."

Tristan leaned against the bedpost. "When her father declined to search for Nate, Ursula went to General Winthrop's office. Winthrop was out, and Coleman explained Nate's new assignment prevents him from writing often."

"What else would he say? He can't bloody well tell her, ‘Madam, your husband works for the Royal Army as a spy.'"

"Keep your voice down."

"Ursula is his wife, she should know."

"I cannot dispute Nate's decisions where his wife is concerned." Tristan appeared as frustrated as Graham. However, his brother possessed a knack for patience and tact Graham did not. "Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"He could be anywhere." Graham rolled out of bed and winced. The pounding in his head sounded more like a drum now. He yanked the bellpull near the wardrobe. He'd used this room his entire life but moved out weeks ago when Tristan and Millicent returned from their honeymoon. The dark, heavy furniture and green fabrics suited him. Suspecting he would often stay at the house, he'd left some of his clothes. He stomped over to drag his trousers and shirt from the dresser.

"You mentioned Nate came to see you while I was presumed dead," Tristan said.

"Yes." Graham slid the shirt over his head. "He was quite upset about the news of your death and told me he decided to take on a new assignment."

"Did he indicate where the mission would take place?"

"He was uncertain. There are undercurrents of Greeks who desire to be independent and free of Turkish rule. He swears there will be a revolution in Greece that will trigger a civil war."

"At the very least," Tristan agreed. "Did he explain his purpose?"

"Only to say he would be assisting the Filiki Eteria. The secret Greek organization is a powerful movement and has membership numbers in the thousands. They are situated in almost every region of Greece and in Greek communities all over the world."

"It will have to be powerful to overtake the Turks." Tristan rubbed his eyes. "They've been in control of Greece a long time."

"Too long, evidently."

Tristan's valet entered with a mug in his hand. Graham knew the mug held Mrs. Innis's special concoction. The beauty of having been the viscount for a time was the staff knew to bring Graham something for the aftereffects of his drinking each morning.

He stilled. The notion of him requiring something for a headache daily, and the staff recognizing it, suddenly bothered him.

With no time to contemplate that disturbing thought, he gulped the vile brew.

After freshening up, the potion had worked its magic, and Graham's head felt much improved as he stepped into the library behind Tristan. Landscapes hung over the sofas on two of the walls. Shelves lined with books and windows took up the rest of the wall space.

Ursula waited by the windows. Sunshine streaming into the room lit sparks in her blonde hair. She turned toward him, and their eyes met. The mere sight of her no longer jabbed like a hot poker to his heart. He did not experience the gut-wrenching pain he'd suffered following her marriage. He could finally be around her without longing to hold her. In an act of self-preservation, he rarely engaged her in conversation. She sent letter upon letter after her wedding, and Graham returned each one unopened. She'd recently sent more, and he refused to accept those as well. He'd made himself move on in the wake of her nuptials and only wished her well.

She rushed forward and stopped in front of him. A sob escaped her. "Nate is dead."

"Do you have confirmation?"

"No. But since he left on this assignment, he has faithfully written to me every two weeks, and I have received nothing from him in months."

"You say that with an unfounded confidence that posts are always prompt," he replied sarcastically.

She huffed out a half-laugh, half-cry.

He drew out his handkerchief and handed it to her.

Annise, Ursula's younger sister, walked up and kissed his cheek. Same blonde hair and blue eyes as her sister, Annise wore gold-rimmed spectacles. "She insisted on coming to see you."

Graham nodded. If Nate had landed in trouble or needed aid, he wanted to know. He glanced back to Ursula. "If you stopped receiving posts a while ago, why do you suddenly think something has happened to Nate?"

"It is not sudden. I have been worried for a while."

"She has," Annise added.

"I sent you correspondences telling you of my apprehension. You sent them back unopened." Her eyes looked wounded, hurt. "I have tried to speak to you, yet you hardly acknowledge me whenever we are in the same room."

He had no defense to her accusations. Everything she said was true.

"Recently..." Ursula put her hands over her heart. "I suffer this feeling something terrible has or is going to happen to him."

At her words, he wondered at the couple's closeness. He'd seen them together since they'd spoken their vows and never saw them so much as touch one another. Rather than let himself ponder those thoughts, he dismissed them. Their marriage was none of his affair. "We will investigate. We are no longer in the army and privy to information on government matters, though."

"Oh, Graham." She stepped closer, hesitated, then threw her arms around his neck.

This was the first time they'd hugged in eight years. She felt different in his arms. A distance separated them. The intimacy they'd shared for so many years was gone. Gratefully gone.

When they were children, he'd been the one she ran to when frightened or in need of comfort. Not her parents, or her sister, or her nanny ... him. He'd purposely distanced himself from her since her wedding, but as he embraced her, he believed he could manage a friendship with her now.

"I knew you would help." She buried her face in his coat.

He politely patted her back until she released him.

"We cannot make you promises. We may learn naught," Tristan added.

"I understand." She hurried over to hug his brother. "I am just grateful you are not dismissing me. Father completely ignores my worry."

Annise grunted. "He ignores everything. He cares only about his dogs and his port. I hope they will be enough to sustain him throughout the rest of his life."

"Annise," Ursula chastised in an exasperated voice. "What of mother?"

"He cares for her least of all."

Graham's lips twitched. The two had bickered about this topic since they were young. "Lasses, you can fight about your parents another time."

Ursula turned from her sister to face him. "Thank you for checking into this."

"Ever at your service." Graham had repeated the same to her many times during his life. Except it should not be his duty anymore. When they found Nate, he would insist his friend be more of a husband to her and tell her about his work.

If they could find him.

If he is alive.

~

Cromer, England

"Pardon?" Miss Constance Lansing blinked twice. Had she heard the man correctly?

Red hair combed to perfection and the freckles on his face more pronounced with the afternoon sun pouring down from the heavens and sparkling off the ocean water, Mr. Hamish Sharp cleared his throat. "I asked if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife."

Her stomach jolted.

Marry him?

In an attempt to hide her reaction, she tilted her head to the left, struggling to think of something to say. No words came to her. Shock obliterated her sense. Waves crashing to the shoreline roared in her ears.

"I believe I'll make a suitable husband. Our fathers are friends and our families know each other." He shyly smiled. "You're a most beautiful lass."

His last words eliminated her surprise. No man had ever said something so splendid to her. "How kind."

"I can assure you, I will be the best of husbands. We will live close so you can continue to help your mother and father run the inn. At a time when my father is ready to hand over his smithy, I'll assume his duties and business."

His words pressed heavily on her heart, yet not quite as heavily as they once would have. When young, she and her cousin, Millicent, would write to each other about how they dreamed of marrying a prince they loved. As she grew up, she understood a prince would never come for her, but still wished for love and a man who might spirit her away from Cromer to a better life elsewhere. "You must speak to my father."

"I did. Yesterday."

"Papa gave his permission?"

"He said I needed your acceptance, and seeing as how you are currently without suitors, he would support our union if you were agreeable."

Drat.

She had no suitors presently or previously. Many in the village considered her peculiar because she preferred to spend the little free time she had outside or in the stables with the animals. Hamish never seemed bothered by her oddity. They'd known each other since childhood and were of a similar age.

She should say yes and be grateful he offered. She'd begun to think no man ever would. Her mother had been right when she explained people of their ilk were not meant for lives of romance.

Hamish was a gentle sort, and she would more than likely live a comfortable life with him, even if boring.

Perhaps she was being unfair to the man. She knew without a doubt he would never hurt her. He'd always seemed shy and nervous around her. Had he been hiding his fondness for her?

Contemplation of his affections would wait until later. "Hamish, I'm flattered by your proposal. May I answer you when I return from my trip to London?"

His face fell, and she loathed herself for his discomfort.

"It is just that I promised my cousin I'd visit. I wish to go while I am unmarried. I would not want to leave a husband for a month or two."

His face brightened. "You're not refusing me?"

She shook her head. "Quite the contrary. I would be a fool to refuse a man as kind as you. Upon my homecoming, I will come to you straightaway and give you my response."

The bell on the door to the inn tinkled. Papa exited and headed toward them. "Am I interrupting?"

She squinted at him. "Hamish proposed. I told him I would give him my answer when I arrive back from London."

Papa frowned. "You still plan to go?"

"I promised Millicent. She begged me, Papa, I must go."

"Indeed." His lips pressed into a straight line. "Hamish, I planned to welcome you to the family today, but I guess I will have to wait."

"Miss Constance is worth whatever wait I may suffer." He pointed at his horse with his thumb. "I must get back. My father is expecting me."

She reached out a hand to him. "I'll see you upon my homecoming."

"I eagerly await the day." He kissed her hand, shook her father's, then started toward his horse. Once mounted, he saluted to them and shot off down the sandy coast.

"Why didn't you warn me?"

Her father rubbed his neck. "Your mother thought it better to surprise you."

"She did?"

"She gave me an entire story about how if her father had told her I planned to propose, she'd have fretted until it happened."

"Well, I was flabbergasted."

"He's a good man," he said with confidence.

"You obviously favor the match."

"Hamish will be kind to you and you'll remain close to us, which pleases me more than I can express."

"Of course." She picked up a sea shell and dusted off the sand.

"You do not appear happy about the prospect of marriage."

"I'm flattered. I merely bear no affection for Hamish."

"At least you have been acquainted with him for years." His lips twisted to the side of his mouth. "Your mother and I barely knew each other when we married. Time softened our hearts toward one another. We work hard, find common things to be joyful about, and treat each other with respect. I believe that constitutes love more than some untested declaration of affection. Our love has grown in the events of life every day. I cannot imagine being wed to anyone else. She's become my best friend."

Over the years, she'd learned her parents cared for each other. Even so, Papa never spoke so passionately about her mother.

She tossed the sea shell down, and they started toward the inn. "I hope Hamish and I will come to a great friendship in our union."

~

London, England

Tristan entered the white brick building in front of Graham. The cramped interior had low ceilings, dingy beige walls, and gray floor tiles that showed an abundance of black scuff marks. Benches abutted one wall and three desks another. A uniformed officer sat at one desk with a line of men waiting in front of it. Graham and Tristan passed through the foyer and down the hallway.

After Ursula requested they find information on Nate yesterday, Graham spent the evening at Wesley's—a club he and Nate both belonged to. No one he spoke to had been in touch with his friend. Today, they decided to visit Winthrop in hopes their old commander might have some news.

Tristan opened the door with General Winthrop written on it, to a tiny room with two filing cabinets, a small desk with a chair, and a little window. A man swiftly turned from a filing cabinet, almost like a boy being caught doing something naughty. Slender, tall, and bald, Coleman served in their regiment during the war. They'd seen him last week at a pub and congratulated him on his promotion to lieutenant colonel.

He smiled. "What can I do for you?"

Tristan pointed to the door leading to the general's office. "Is he in?"

"He left two days ago and will be gone for the next month." A slight overbite to his smile, Coleman asked, "What do you men need?"

"Cheswick's whereabouts." Graham stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Cheswick no longer reports to Winthrop."

Tristan cleared his throat. "Lady Cheswick said you told her Nate was on a special assignment. She never mentioned he is reporting to someone else."

"It is something we tell family members when they ask questions." He collected the sheets of paper on his desk and piled them into one neat stack. "I don't know who he reports to now. Intelligence officers are treated differently since the war. Everything surrounding them is secretive—their superiors, their missions. Even if you were to ask the actual person he is reporting to, they would more than likely deny Nate works for them. I explained to Lady Cheswick that Nate is on an assignment, but since she went to you two, I guess she's still concerned."

"She wants to make certain nothing has happened to him," Tristan explained.

"Women often fret for nothing. My wife is constantly upset about my obligations and projects. I cannot fathom why they worry so much."

"Because their lives are different from ours. They have no control over their own destinies. They are not allowed to make decisions of their own." Tristan spoke in a compassionate tone. For a man who'd spent most of his life concerned only about himself, Tristan changed when he was captured and put aboard a convict ship. He now understood what it was like to be vulnerable, to be treated like a criminal, and he sympathized with all people and their plights in life.

Plus, he was correct. Most women were considered no more than a possession or property by their husbands and fathers.

Coleman raised his brows. "You've changed, mate."

"Everything about me altered the day I was captured."

"It's an incredible story. The novelist A. Bel couldn't conjure up something so horrible." Coleman sat behind the tiny desk, looking like a giant. "I'll leave a message for General Winthrop that you called on him and why. It'll be the first thing he sees when he arrives back. In the meanwhile, we should ask around town about Nate."

"I did so at Wesley's last night, and had no luck," Graham explained.

"Send word if I can help," Coleman said. "Considering what we survived during the war, we must do whatever possible to aid our brothers-in-arms.