“Went pretty well, don’t you think?” she asked.
“On a scale of one to ten, I think he hit about fifteen.” He pulled her into his arms. “You did a good job, Scottie. Another mission successfully completed.”
She smiled. One down. One to go. “He was so insistent on his input remaining anonymous, he really had me worried.”
“He obviously had no idea who he was dealing with.”
She held his approving gaze for a long, silent moment, drinking in the quiet strength he offered. “My dark knight, my champion in all things.”
“Always.”
“This is really going to work, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. All of it.”
Scottie grinned back. “What a team. Nothing can stop us.”
“Look out world, here comes the new dynamic duo.” Logan kissed her. He released her suddenly. “I can’t wait another second. I wanted to plan something really wonderful and romantic, but all those people in there so disgustingly happily married and—” He broke off and grinned. “Think you could handle being married to a superhero?”
“Could you?” she tossed back.
He swooped in and delivered a kiss that left her gasping and clinging to him. Of course, the way she’d kissed him back had rendered him the same. “Most definitely.” He hugged her. “Most definitely.” He pulled away enough to look at her. “But you have to promise me one thing. You’ll wear the catsuit on our wedding night?”
She punched his shoulder even as she laughed. “See, I knew you had latent latex fantasies. So, you want Catwoman, do you?” She snuggled up to him, purring, then ran a fingernail slowly down his chest. She continued to trail her nail down over the fly of his jeans.
He groaned. “Okay, no catsuit. You don’t need one.”
She looked him in the eye and smiled smugly. “You’re right.”
She beamed and pulled his head down for a long, deep kiss. When she had him reduced to gasping, she pulled away. “What are your plans for later this afternoon?”
“Plans?” His eyes were still glazed.
“Well, we do think alike. About those romantic plans … I had some of my own.”
Logan grinned. “You were going to propose?”
“I have a room reserved at the Brown Palace for tonight. Would you care to join me?” She leaned in and delivered a growling purr next to his ear. “There might be latex involved.”
“I’m there,” he said weakly. Then he surprised a whoop of laughter out of her as he swung her up into his arms.
“Logan, put me—Where are you taking me?”
He strode down the hall toward the elevators.
“I have an office full of people. We can’t leave right n—”
“We can. Del’s there. He can take care of things. That’s what delegating is all about.”
“But—”
“When latex is involved, it’s every man for himself.” He kissed her silent as he stepped into the elevator. He didn’t release her mouth until the doors opened in the parking garage. She wasn’t arguing any longer. He grinned down into the face of the woman who had changed his life, who had given him back his life. The woman who was breathless and grinning back at him.
“So,” he asked, walking on air, “do you think the Brown Palace has a chapel?”
She smiled slyly. “I know they do.”
He chuckled. “I see another successful mission in your immediate future.”
“I see a lifetime mission in my future.”
Logan dropped her feet gently to the ground. “And we all know how important a successful mission is to you.”
“Yeah,” she said, going into his arms. “That we do.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I can’t promise you what kind of future we’ll have, but I can promise you that you’ll always come first. We will always come first.”
“That’s all I’ll ever ask.”
“I’ve given my whole life to my work, willingly. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished and I’m looking forward to continuing, with you there fighting the good fight with me.” She looked up into his eyes. “But I also want time for me. For us. I want time for family. I want to spend the rest of my life creating and building the family I always wanted and never had.”
“We’ll have all that and more, Scottie.” He stepped closer. “In fact, that’s a promise I intend to start keeping right now.”
He pushed her back against the car and lowered his mouth to hers. Several moments later a throaty chuckle echoed through the empty garage. It was quickly followed by a low, whispered moan.
“Ohhhh, James.”
THE EDITOR’S CORNER
Welcome to Loveswept!
Summer’s over and the days are starting to get shorter and cooler. If you’re missing summer’s warmth, turn up the heat with our new Loveswept releases.
Coming out next month: Linda Cajio’s super-sexy NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN, Karen Leabo’s moving and tender LANA’S LAWMAN, and three more fantastic books from Donna Kauffman: MIDNIGHT HEAT, BORN TO BE WILD and SURRENDER THE DARK.
If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: In November, we have six more exhilarating reads for you: Adrienne Staff’s irresistible PARADISE CAFÉ, Linda Cajio’s playful and sexy THE PERFECT CATCH, Debra Dixon’s sensual DOC HOLIDAY, Samantha Kane’s brilliant THE DEVIL’S THIEF, and two more enthralling titles from Donna Kauffman: TEASE ME, and BAYOU HEAT. And December brings these fantastic releases: Juliet Rosetti’s charming ESCAPE DIARIES, Juliana Garnett’s enchanting medieval THE MAGIC, and four more breathtaking stories from Donna Kauffman’s: BOUNTY HUNTER, TANGO IN PRADISE, ILLEGAL MOTION and BLACK SATIN. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…
Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …
Read on for an excerpt from Elisabeth Barrett’s
Deep Autumn Heat
CHAPTER 1
“Any local worth his salt knows what time the fishing starts in Star Harbor,” a large, handsome, dangerous-looking man with raven-black hair intoned in a deadpan. “And it ain’t eight-thirty.”
After listening to this blatant insult, Sebastian Grayson, world traveler and master chef, fought the urge to throttle the man who was now reeling in his line. Throttle him, or toss his own tackle box off Mutterman’s Pier and crawl back into his tiny berth on Val’s boat. Of course, both would require energy, so he let exhaustion win out. Pulling his leather jacket more tightly around his tired, aching body, Seb leaned back on a pylon and closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar tang of salt water and wet wood. The cold, foggy air rushing into his lungs was helping to wake him up some, but he’d still kill for a latte.
Cole’s wisecrack had definitely hit a nerve. Just like his brother, Seb was Star Harbor born and bred, and even though he hadn’t lived in town for the last decade, it didn’t mean he’d lost his “local” status. He’d been on this pier a thousand times. The clang of the buoys in the harbor, the strain and creak of the boats at their moorings, and the cries of the seabirds searching for their morning meal were all imprinted on his brain. The images of his three brothers were imprinted there, too, each of them in his favorite spot along the wharf, just as they were now.
Val, the oldest, stood against the far pylon, his lean, wiry frame concealed by an oversized fisherman’s jacket, longish black hair curled at his nape. Cole, second in age, was seated with his broad back up against another pylon, his eyes covered by mirrored sunglasses. Theo, Seb’s twin, had one long leg folded against his chest as he leaned on a bench, his rod in one hand and a book of Whitman poems in the other. Theo’s green eyes were the exact mirror of his own, and right now they were crinkled in mirth.
The Grayson brothers, Star Harbor’s former resident bad boys, were back in town and ready for business.
That is,
after Sebastian got his coffee.
Farther down the wharf, a few older men who’d cast their lures at the crack of dawn were silently packing up to leave, their thick jackets buttoned up against the early autumn chill as they gathered their morning’s catch. Each of Seb’s brothers had already caught a few fish large enough to keep—striped bass and mackerel, mostly. If Seb had been out here fishing at five-thirty like they’d been, he’d have something to show for his efforts, too.
“Sleep well, princess?” Cole asked, his deep voice cutting through the mist. Theo snickered softly from behind his book.
“Mmm,” Seb grunted. He tried to ignore them but he knew it was futile. His brothers were dead set on giving him hell for sleeping late. Cole pushed his sunglasses up on his head, revealing deep blue eyes. Funny, he didn’t remember his brother looking so hardened. Ever since Cole had returned from Afghanistan where his Special Forces unit had been stationed, he’d been on edge. Seb was glad Cole had left his job as a cop in Boston to become the sheriff of Star Harbor. Maybe being back in their small hometown would do him good.
“Seb needs his beauty sleep, isn’t that right?” Theo teased with a smile.
They weren’t going to quit ribbing him until he rose to the bait. “Any one of you could have woken me up,” Seb complained.
“No one would dare. Don’t you sleep next to your wicked sharp knives rolled up in that nylon bag?” Cole said, his mouth curving up in a half smile.
“At least I don’t sleep with a loaded Glock on my nightstand,” Seb retorted before he could stop himself. In less than a second, Cole’s smile was gone and he was standing up, his posture putting all of Seb’s senses on high alert.
“Not today.” Val’s calm, even voice sliced through the tension. Both brothers backed down, realizing that Val was right. For a moment they had forgotten that they were here in Star Harbor for one reason: to pay homage to their father, who’d died twenty years ago during a hurricane. No matter where they were or what they were doing, they always gathered together in their hometown on Labor Day weekend, the anniversary of his death.
Val and Cole lived in Star Harbor, but Seb had driven his motorcycle in from New York City and Theo had flown in from San Francisco. As was their tradition, they’d spend the long weekend together, remembering their dad.
Seb swept his gaze over the misty water, watching the boats pitch and roll through the haze as the tide slowly went out. Then he turned toward the town. The old-fashioned gas lamps that stayed on all night were still lit, but the fog was thick and he could barely make out the Victorian houses lining Harbor Street. Star Harbor looked exactly the same as it did when he’d left it so many years ago.
God, being here brought back so many memories. Like the time he and his brothers had rigged those fireworks to go off seconds before the annual summer small craft regatta started. It had taken the organizers at least an hour to get everything back on track. Or the time they all ditched school to head to Providence for Oktoberfest. Their mother had been furious. A smile crept onto his face. For a few moments, he could almost forget his weariness and the mountain of work waiting for him back in New York—planning his fall menu, brainstorming for his television show, and figuring out where he was going to open his new restaurant. He thought he might have settled on Boston, but he couldn’t be sure until he found the right venue. Crap, he’d better be sure. He’d already spent too much time trying to make that decision.
Seb sighed. He used to love being a renowned chef, and had thrived on the sheer volume of work. But lately, it had started to seem like a slog. Had he lost his passion or was he just exhausted?
Damn. He had to stop stressing so that he could enjoy the weekend, but that probably wasn’t going to happen. He had only himself to blame. His plan was to stay in Star Harbor for a full week, but it wasn’t going to be much of a vacation. He would need to spend at least part of the time working on his upcoming projects. Later on in the morning, he was scheduled to scout out spaces in Boston for his new restaurant. His brothers weren’t too happy about it—their tradition was to spend the weekend together, after all—but it was rare that he ever got time away from his restaurant, Helena. Suddenly, the fact that he was tired, damp, cold, and seriously decaffeinated started to wear on him. He needed that coffee, bad.
“So how’s the writing going, Theo?” he asked, trying to think about something else.
Theo set his book down. “Not as well as I’d like,” he admitted. “I’m having trouble getting started on my next project.”
“Lower your standards,” Cole joked.
“Never.” Theo shook his head. “I just wish I could find some real inspiration.”
“It’s everywhere, all around you,” Val said sagely. He was right. Seb himself could draw inspiration for one of his entrées from anything—a smell, a color, or even an interesting texture. Val didn’t talk much. Never had. But when he said something, it was worth it to listen. Val had been his rock—everyone’s rock, really—since their father had died. And after their mother had passed away twelve years ago, taken from them by a stroke, Val was the closest thing they had to a parent.
He looked at his oldest brother. Calm. Resolute. His face bracketed by a square jaw and steely blue eyes. Their mother’s eyes. He’d trust Val with anything. He trusted Theo and Cole, too, of course, but Val was the most solid of them all. The younger Grayson boys had gone wild when their dad had died. But somehow, despite the fact that he was only a few years older than Cole, Val had brought them back to Earth. Grounded them. Without him, they would have stayed adrift. Val hadn’t supported most of their rowdy adventures, but he had always stepped in to keep things under control. It was Val who’d suggested Seb travel to pursue his passion. He had taken that advice, and now he was at the top of his culinary game.
“Maybe you should come back to Star Harbor for a while. Get some good ideas for your new book,” Cole suggested.
“Maybe,” Theo responded ambiguously and went back to reading. Though not as soft-spoken as Val, Theo was quieter than either Cole or himself. They’d called him “the Professor” growing up because he’d always had his nose in a book or his pen to paper, meticulously plotting their escapades. Cole had been their logistics guy, so it had come as no surprise to anyone when he joined the military. And Seb? He’d been the charmer, able to sweet-talk anyone into anything. Just like their father.
Seb had loved his mom, but like most boys, he’d worshipped his dad—his slow but easy smile. The way the corners of his eyes would crinkle up when he found something funny. The old pirate stories he used to tell the boys before bedtime. Seb thought about him every day. It was hard not to. Every time he opened his mouth or looked at himself in a mirror he was reminded of his father. But most of all, he missed his dad’s laughter echoing off the sides of his fishing boat as he hauled in the day’s catch.
“Hey, you guys talk to James Bishop lately?” Seb asked, trying to snap himself out of his funk. Jimmy had been a part of their high school crowd and Seb felt a brief twinge of regret that he hadn’t kept in better touch.
“I haven’t talked to Jimmy in years,” Theo said as he broke down his rod and reel.
Val nodded. “Yep. Owns his own tour boat and sailing company now. He’s getting married in a few weeks. Asked me and Cole to be in his wedding party.”
“Really?” Seb couldn’t imagine Jimmy—a huge bear of a man with an outsized voice and a nose for trouble—tying the knot.
“To Emma Newbridge, Kate Everhart’s niece,” Cole said, as if he were reading Seb’s mind. “Emma’s been helping run the Star Harbor Inn since Kate was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago. Jimmy’s a changed man. Or so he says.” Cole chuckled as he reeled in his line and started packing up his gear.
“I’ve met Emma,” Seb said. “Can’t imagine how Jimmy snagged someone so … so …”
“Sweet?” Theo interjected.
“Yeah.” Emma was appealing and engaging, the exact opposite of Jimmy. Or at least how J
immy used to be.
“Well, you can ask him yourself. He’s at the Rusty Nail most nights after work,” Val said. “We can join him later for a beer.”
“Beer sounds good,” Seb said, reminded of his aching body, “but coffee sounds better. Any idea where I can grab a decent cup of joe around here?”
Val smiled and closed his tackle box. “I know just the place.”
Read on for an excerpt from Karen Leabo’s
Callie’s Cowboy
PROLOGUE
On a warm April day in Destiny, Texas, the high-school spring carnival was in full swing. The scent of popcorn mingled with that of cotton candy, and the gymnasium echoed with whoops of conquest from the many games and the excited laughter of children.
Seventeen-year-old Callie Calloway couldn’t enjoy any of it. Her heart was breaking into pieces.
“I’m sorry that’s the way you feel, Callie,” Sam said, his usual sunny smile absent. “But Uncle Ned needs me. He’s in bad health, the spring calving hasn’t gone well, and … we’re talking about my whole future here. You understand that, don’t you?”
Callie nodded, swallowing back the tears. For as long as she’d known Sam Sanger, he’d taken care of his family. He’d helped his great-uncle on a ranch in Nevada every summer and had given most of his salary to his parents to add to the meager income they earned from their own struggling farm. It had all seemed so noble to Callie, and that’s one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him.
He loved her, too, she knew. But just once, she wanted to come first. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently it was. Sam had moved heaven and earth to finish his high-school credits a month early so he’d be free to leave for Nevada for the summer. And now he’d just informed her that he was leaving before the senior prom.
“I’ll understand if you want to go with another guy to the prom,” he said. “But do we have to break up? I mean, aren’t you overreacting?”
Dark Knight: A Loveswept Romance Classic Page 18
