Contents
Also by Barbara Freethy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Jason - Excerpt
Access MEMBERS ONLY Page!
The Whisper Lake Series
About the Author
Also by Barbara Freethy
7 BRIDES FOR 7 BLACKTHORNES
* * *
Devlin – Barbara Freethy (#1)
Jason – Julia London (#2)
Ross – Lynn Raye Harris (#3)
Phillip – Cristin Harber (#4)
Brock – Roxanne St. Claire (#5)
Logan – Samantha Chase (#6)
Trey – Christie Ridgway (#7)
* * *
Don’t Miss My New Contemporary Series:
WHISPER LAKE
* * *
Always With Me (#1)
My Wildest Dream (#2)
* * *
For a complete list of books, visit my website!
DEVLIN - Book Blurb
Meet the Blackthorne men, each one as hot, fast, and smooth as the whisky that built the family fortune, and the yachts and race cars that bear their name. From proud Scottish stock, Blackthornes never lose. But, one by one, the seven sexy men in this family are about to risk everything when they fall for strong and beautiful women who test their mettle in life…and love.
* * *
Devlin
* * *
As the second Blackthorne son, Devlin usually likes to stay out of the family drama, but with his family suddenly falling apart, he has one way to bring them back together. He wants to win the Southern Maine Sailing Invitational, like his father and uncle before him. He has built the fastest boat, and he has planned for every contingency, except one…a beautiful blonde determined to beat him and avenge a family betrayal.
* * *
Hannah Reid is tired of watching the Blackthornes win races on boats built by her dad, especially after the family patriarch fired her father. She has only one way to get revenge—win the race. Unfortunately, Devlin Blackthorne is standing in her way. She wants to hate him, but Devlin's love of the sea and brave, adventurous spirit mirrors her own, and she begins to realize that this sexy, charming man is hurting, too.
* * *
As they race to the finish, battling strong winds and family loyalty, Hannah and Devlin wonder if winning each other wouldn't be the greatest win of all…
* * *
Don't miss these sexy, heartwarming, emotion-filled books by seven bestselling authors: Barbara Freethy, Julia London, Lynn Raye Harris, Cristin Harber, Roxanne St. Claire, Samantha Chase, and Christie Ridgway.
DEVLIN
© Copyright 2019 Barbara Freethy
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ISBN: 9781943781881
* * *
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
"You are one cold, ruthless, heartless, horrible person," Hannah Reid declared, her practiced speech going out of her head as soon as Devlin Blackthorne made the mistake of giving her a charming smile and saying hello as if nothing had happened.
"Nice to see you, too, Hannah," Devlin said, his brown-eyed gaze filling with wariness. "How long has it been? Three, four years?"
"Five."
"No wonder you look so much older. I think you had just graduated from college last time I saw you. How come you haven't come back before this?"
"That is not important. Don't try to distract me. I want to know what's going on. Why did you fire my father?"
"It wasn't my decision; my dad terminated Frank."
"Terminated?" she echoed. "My father has worked for Blackthorne Boatworks for thirty years. It's his boat designs that have made this company famous. He is its heart and its soul." She'd never felt so much anger. Ever since she'd heard about her father's abrupt firing, her fury had grown to an explosive level. It had pushed her to get on a plane and fly from Texas to Maine, and the travel time had done nothing to lessen her anger.
"I agree. Frank has been the heart and soul of this company," Devlin said, appearing to choose his words carefully.
"Yes, he has. Which is why this makes no sense. He devoted his life to your family business. He ruined his marriage, he shattered my family, all because of his dedication to the job he loved and to your family. And you just let him go? You throw him away like an old newspaper? How could you do that?"
"You're not listening, Hannah. It was my father's doing."
"Your father doesn't run the company; you do."
"My father runs every company within Blackthorne Enterprises," he snapped, his brown eyes darkening. "He has the ultimate say."
"So, talk to him. Tell him he's wrong."
"Tell him he's wrong? No one tells Graham Blackthorne he's wrong, least of all one of his sons."
"Then I'll tell him. Where is he?"
Devlin smiled. "I think you would actually do that."
"You're damned right I would. I'm not afraid of your father."
"Look, Hannah, I've already told my father to hire Frank back. He says it's between Frank and him. He also told me that Frank knows what he has to do if he wants his job back."
"What the hell does that mean? He works endless hours. What more could he possibly do for you?"
"Honestly, I think whatever is between them is personal, because neither one will tell me what their argument was about. I've asked both of them several times." He paused. "Have you asked Frank? Did he give you a reason?"
She frowned, wishing she could give Devlin a different answer. "He said that your family didn't value him, respect him, or trust his word. He wasn't just angry; he was hurt. Actually, he was devastated. I've never heard him sound so bleak. It scared me. I jumped on a plane as soon as I could."
Devlin's brows knit together in puzzlement. "I don't know what he's talking about. I've expressed my gratitude and respect for his work many times. He has to be referring to my father."
"Regardless, my dad needs his job back."
"That will happen with a little time."
"How much time? My father isn't rich. He's not a Blackthorne. You have to talk to your father again, make him see reason."
"Does Frank know you're here?" he asked curiously.
"He knows I'm in King Harbor. I got in last night."
"But he doesn't know you're here at the office talking to me."
"I might not have mentioned it," she admitted.
A knowing gleam entered his eyes. "Because he wouldn't want you to fight his battles for him."
"He's not fighting; that's the problem. He drank half the night at the Vault, and I don't think he slept at all. He's like a shadow of himself. I'm worried."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I really am."
"Then do something," she said, waving her hand in frustration. She couldn't stand that Devlin was so calm. Actually, she couldn't stand that he was so attractive.
How was it possible that he'd gotten more attractive with age? He was thirty-one now; he should be graying or balding
or putting on weight, but his light-brown hair was thick and wavy, his brown eyes flecked with sparkling gold, his body looking fit and toned in his T-shirt and faded jeans.
All the Blackthorne brothers and cousins were good-looking guys, but Devlin's grinning, charismatic smile, his wind-blown brown hair, often sunburned face, and his love of the sea had always made him incredibly attractive to her.
Not that he'd ever looked in her direction. He was five years older than her, and after her parents had divorced when she was twelve, she'd only been in King Harbor for a few weeks every summer. Back then when she'd seen Devlin, he'd usually had some cute girl or two by his side.
Her gut tightened, and she wanted to stop looking at him, but she couldn't seem to pull her gaze away—not until a flicker of amusement entered his eyes.
Then she forced herself to clear her throat and glance toward the window. She could see a boat on the lift, ready to be lowered into the water. "Is that the Wind Warrior—this year's entry in the Southern Maine Sailing Invitational?"
"Yes. She's ready for a test run."
"A run my father should be making. Do you really think you can win the race without him? He's been on every winning boat you've ever sailed. Even though your family keeps the trophy, it's as much his as it is yours."
Devlin stared back at her. "You've got a massive chip on your shoulder, Hannah."
"Your family put it there." She wasn't just talking about her father's recent termination. Her resentment of the Blackthornes ran deep. Even though it probably wasn't fair, she blamed them for the break-up of her family. If they hadn't put such tremendous demands on her father, he wouldn’t have had to work all the time.
"I am sorry about what happened," Devlin said.
"Then talk to your dad. Get him to change his mind."
"I will do that."
"When?"
"I'm seeing him tonight for my mom's sixtieth birthday party. But I have to tell you that our fathers are as obstinate as they come. Neither one ever wants to back down. What you or I want probably isn't going to factor into this situation."
She couldn't say he was wrong about that. "My dad can be bullheaded, but it's that stubbornness that also drives his perfection at work."
A loud crash reverberated through the building, and Devlin winced. "I need to get back to work." As he came around the desk, he added, "Frank said you're in real estate now."
"Yes. I work as an agent in my mother's firm."
"I remember how much you loved being on the water. When you came to visit your father in the summers, you always wanted to be out on a boat."
"Yes, I did." She was surprised he remembered that, and as their gazes clung together, an odd tingle ran down her spine.
She'd come into his office full of fire, but the sparks were changing from anger into something else…something she should not be feeling. Devlin was her father's boss; she could not forget that.
Clearing her throat, she said, "You will speak to your father?"
"I said I would. How long are you staying in town?"
"I'm not sure. It depends on what happens with my dad."
"Why don't I walk you out?"
"I can find my way," she said, as they moved toward the door. "Although, it seems busier here than I remember."
"We've been expanding the last several years," he said, waving her through the doorway.
Devlin's office was on the second floor of the massive building, which was about twenty-thousand square feet. Two additional offices, one belonging to her father, another to the operations manager, as well as a conference room, lined the interior hallway overlooking the first-floor workspace.
Downstairs, the cavernous room allowed for construction and restoration of yachts, with separate spaces for carpentry, painting, rigging, and mechanical services. Enormous doors opened onto a ramp with a lift and a deep-water dock behind the building. Blackthorne Boatworks was a full-service operation offering everything from design to new construction, restoration, service, and sales.
As they walked down the stairs, she saw two boats currently in progress: one a skeletal hull, the other about fifty percent done. There were at least six men working between the two projects.
Her father should be there, too. He was a master craftsman. He wasn't only a designer; he was also a builder, and a sailor.
"You can't afford to lose my dad," she told Devlin as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "He's brilliant."
"It wouldn't be easy, but no one is irreplaceable."
Her anger returned. "Now you sound like your father's son. The Blackthornes rule the world."
Irritation ran through his eyes. "My family doesn't rule the world, but we did build our businesses from the ground up, and we worked hard to get where we are. We offer our employees excellent benefits, and Frank has been treated like a member of the family for as long as you and I have been alive." Devlin paused. "You should talk to your dad. You might be surprised that you don't know as much as you think you do about the way things are around here."
She walked slowly out to her car, hoping he wasn't right.
As Devlin left his apartment on the third floor of the Boatworks and drove to his parents' home a little before six, his mind drifted back to his earlier confrontation with Hannah Reid.
She'd certainly been hot under the collar—not that she'd been wearing a collar. No, her short, sleeveless light-blue linen dress had clung to her beautiful curves and showed off her tanned, slender legs. Her blonde hair had caught the light every time she'd shaken her head at him, and her blue eyes had shot off more than a few sparks.
He didn't remember her being so pretty. Not that he'd paid much attention to her. She was five years younger than him, which had felt like a million years when he was a teenager. Now, not so much…
But his unexpected attraction was a non-starter. He wasn't going to mess around with Hannah. He had enough problems. Not that she'd mess around with him. She clearly didn't think highly of anyone with Blackthorne for their last name.
While he respected her for standing up for her dad, it was clear she didn't have any idea of the dynamics between Frank and his father. Those two had always butted heads, but at times they'd also been friends.
Apparently, now they were enemies, and he had no idea why.
His father refused to discuss it with him. But he would have to bring it up again, not just because he'd promised Hannah, but also because he needed Frank back at work.
They had orders to fill and designs to be finished, and, as Hannah had pointed out, Frank had always helped him race their newest boat in the Southern Maine Sailing Invitational, which brought together racers from all over the world on Memorial Day weekend.
He'd never sailed the race without Frank, and while he knew he could do it, he would miss him. It wouldn't be the same.
Although…this would be a good time to get his father on board. But while his father had a shelf of trophies from the race, they were all from more than a decade ago. His father had quit racing after his brother Mark and his wife had passed away in a tragic plane crash, leaving behind three boys, who had subsequently been raised by his parents.
His father had always sailed the race with Mark, and he'd never wanted to do it with anyone else—not even his own son. But then, he and his father didn't do much of anything together, whether it was on a boat or not. It wasn't that they were estranged or anything; they just didn't have much in common.
Usually, his dad left the management of the Boatworks to him, which made this Frank situation even more bothersome. Frank had to have done something fairly big for his dad to have stepped in the way he had. But hopefully, he'd had enough time to cool off and be open to reason.
He turned in to the driveway of the Blackthorne Estate and parked off to the side, preferring to have his car more readily available when he wanted to leave. Soon there would be a crush of vehicles in front of the house.
Getting out of the car, he walked down the drive, appreciating the unusua
lly warm evening, and he also found himself looking forward to the night ahead. It was his mother's sixtieth birthday, and the entire family would be there, including his three brothers, three cousins, and his grandmother. They hadn't all been together since Christmas, and it would be nice to see the house full of Blackthornes again.
As the three-story mansion came into view, he smiled to himself, thinking that the word house had always been an understatement. The fifteen-thousand-square-foot home had been built by his grandparents, funded by Blackthorne Gold, the whisky that had built the Blackthorne empire. Surrounded by lush gardens, the mansion also boasted a white widow's walk overlooking the sea.
Growing up, the house had always been their summer base. During the year, they'd lived in an equally impressive home in Boston. And Boston was where many of his family members still resided. He, however, had decided to take over the Boatworks five years ago, making his life and business interests much more suited to King Harbor and the Maine coast. While he could have lived at the estate, he'd felt a need for his own space, and the apartment over the Boatworks was more convenient and more his style.
When he reached the front door, he ran into Trey, his oldest brother. "You made it. When did you get in?" He gave Trey a hug, then grinned at his brother's always stiff response.
They were only three years apart in age, but they were light-years apart in everything else. Trey was executive vice president of operations for Blackthorne Enterprises, and he was all business, all the time. Even for tonight's party, he looked every inch the executive in his expensive designer suit. His face was cleanly shaven, and his brown hair was neatly trimmed and styled so that not a hair was out of place. Looking at Trey now, he could hardly believe this was the same kid who had once built forts with him out of blankets and chairs.
Devlin Page 1
