Sometimes the best thing a good girl can do is make a bad decision.
Jessica has always been the girl with her head in the clouds and her nose in a book, only dating the “nice guys”. But when rough-around-the-edges Viking-biker-god, Mad Max, and his precocious little girl move onto her street, Jessica falls hard and fast for both of them.
Max is no stranger to women wanting to share his bed—and he’s always been more than happy to oblige them all. He’s lived wild all his life—that is, until a daughter shows up on his doorstep and he meets a redheaded angel down the block.
There’s nothing more he wants than to claim Jessica as his, to bring the gorgeous spitfire to his bed. But a man like him doesn’t get a happy ending with a woman like her. He’s got a whole other life, one he’s kept secret for good reason.
If Jessica found out what he really is, there’s no way she could love him. He should keep his hands to himself. But he’s Mad Max—he’s never done the right thing, and he’s not going to start now.
Warning: Contains a dominating alpha male who’s a lot more than he seems, and a good girl with a swirl of flavors under her vanilla.
Girl Breaker
Harper Kincaid
Dedication
To my best friend, Lisa Waldorf Lee,
You’re my angel—and proof God adored me
long before I learned to love myself.
Prologue
I still don’t have an answer, even after all these years: who was lost and who was found. Sometimes I would find him in the labyrinth of a city, but other times—like now—the chase began in a wooded countryside in Ireland. “He” happened to be my man, my future husband, and the father of my unborn children.
The fact I didn’t know his name or even what he looked like was far from a deterrent. Because I knew someday I’d catch up to him—or he’d find me when I least expected it—and once I did, that would be it. No more waiting. No more wondering.
I promise you, I’m not crazy. I’m just one of the last true believers. I live for those serendipitous events, where time and space sweeps love and faith off their feet and makes the magic happen. To me, magic is when your heart and soul’s deepest desires align with the will of God, whose love for us is beyond anything we comprehend. That doesn’t make me religious; it just means I trust and surrender to something outside the lesser gods of logic and the illusion of control.
So the whole idea of catching glimpses of the man meant for me through reoccurring dreams was not a stretch in the slightest. In this particular dream, I was in a simple dress and sandals, with my red hair half up, clipped in place with a plain barrette. The sun was overhead, brilliant but not blinding, and warm on my skin.
And then it happened. I was walking with the crowd, and I felt calloused fingertips brush against my hand. His roughness electrified every nerve in my body. I caught a visual slice of broad shoulders, a confident swagger, a devilish smirk.
That’s all it ever took, really. Just a tease of him and I would feel a heavy tug pull me, right from the center of my chest. Strong. Insistent. Magnetic, even. My feet and body would move in whatever direction he was going. The effect he had on me was Pavlovian, automatic. Out of my control.
I started following him through the crowd, my short, thin legs barely keeping up with his long strides. Somehow, though, I knew he wasn’t going at his full speed; he was allowing me time to catch up. He was so tall, at least 6’3”, so one of his strides equaled three of mine. He wove through the people with ease while I was already feeling the sweat running down the curve of my neck and spine.
Then the scene switched and I was jogging through an overgrown garden. The scent of wild roses perfumed the air, permeating my lungs.
“Ouch!” A thorny branch snagged the sleeve of my dress, scraping my skin. I brought the wound to my mouth, tasting blood, licking it clean. When I looked up, I saw he had stopped. He was watching me.
I sucked in a harsh breath because he had never stopped before. I was lucid enough within the dream to say to myself, “Get a look at him, Jessica. This is your chance to finally see him.” So I tried to concentrate on the face of the man who had been out of my reach ever since I was a little girl. The man I knew, with every cell of my body, was the one meant for me. My beloved, my soul mate.
But the fog was rising and the sun became hidden behind a cluster of darkening clouds. The rains were coming, and all I could make out were his eyes, such an unusual shade of green. They were razor-focused right into the heart of me.
“What’s your name?” I called out to him, mesmerized by his eyes because they were almost luminescent. I wanted to take in the rest of his face, to finally see him. But, for some reason, I just couldn’t.
He shook his head, but his eyes contained no reproach. He glanced behind his shoulder, to the impenetrable forest barely a stone’s throw away. And then he beckoned me to join him, to walk into that mess of danger. He didn’t say a word but nevertheless I knew that’s what he wanted—for me to take his hand and journey straight into the unknown, into an uncharted forest, land, and country.
Then the scent of freshly cut lilacs invaded, reminding me of my mother because they were her favorite flower. And in a flash, there she was, and I felt the ground beneath my feet shift. I reached for her, grabbing her hard. “Mom! It’s you! You’re here!” I was afraid she would turn into vapor. Disappear into nothing, like she had before.
God, she was beautiful. Of course, she had been young when she had Samantha and then me, but still, she was ageless, a fey-like redheaded creature with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Just like her daughters.
Her eyes widened and her head jerking back. “Well of course I’m here, Jessica. Where else would I be?”
As if she and Dad hadn’t died eighteen months ago in a tragic car accident on their way home from watching Fourth of July fireworks. As if she had been standing by my side the whole time.
My mom laughed off my reaction, waving it away with her hand like it was a small, pesky summertime gnat in her way.
“Oh honey, you’re so funny sometimes,” she continued, as if we talked casually every day. “The real question is, are you going to follow your young man out there?”
I turned just in time to observe my dream man walking farther away, about to be absorbed into the dark thicket ahead.
“You know—” she pulled her cardigan tighter around her thin frame, “—back in the olden days, when mapmakers would reach uncharted territory, like that wooded land over there, they would write on top of the parchments, ‘Beyond this point, there are dragons.’”
I blinked a couple of times before letting out a slight chuckle. “I guess that’s one way to avoid danger.”
My mom gave a warm smile, making her crow’s feet more pronounced, only augmenting her appeal, in my opinion. She smoothed down some stray hairs on my head with the palm of her hand, her touch always such a lovely, ephemeral occurrence.
“Now it’s your turn. What are you going to do?”
“But I’m not a mapmaker or an explorer, Mom.” Geez, I sounded more like a teenager than a grown woman, even to my own ears.
She arched an eyebrow. “What do you think your life is, Jess?” she asked. “Of course you are. Every moment you live and dream you’re charting out the landscape in front of you. And now, he wants to take you even farther.”
“But Mom,” My voice sounded hoarse, strained. “I don’t even know who he is.”
She let out a laugh. “Well, of course you don’t. We never know who anyone really is, my darling.”
Then a blaring horn sounded through the air. The rain began to
fall in cold sheets, chilling to the bone. When I looked to check on my mom, she was gone. Just like that. And when I gazed out to see if my mystery man was still at the edge of the forest, he had already vanished as well. Everything was gone but the ringing in the air. Persistent. Noxious. Cacophonous.
It turned out to be my alarm clock, calling me back. As I slowly opened my eyes and took in my room, in the house I had known since birth, I was struck dumb at just how cold and foreign my own bed had become. When did that happen, I wondered. When did my home, the one place that had always served as my comfort, become…barren?
Now it was just another house without a soul, especially if it meant waking up another day without the man meant for me. Whoever he may be. I knew it wasn’t modern or politically correct to admit what I was feeling, but I didn’t care. I closed my eyes, tears welling behind them, thinking: Where is he already?
Chapter One
“Were you even going to tell me?”
My eyes widened, my head instinctively rearing back. “Tell you…what, exactly?”
“I’ll take that as a no then?” my sister said, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Sam, I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
She tsk-tsked at me, but then a familiar impish smirk made its appearance, so I knew she was just toying with me. As per usual.
“All right…fine, be obtuse!” She slammed her hands on the table in front of her while rolling her eyes, like she used to when we were teenagers. “I’m talking about your big speech the other night.”
“Oh…that.” I blew her off. “I made some recommendations at a meeting. Nothing to get excited over.”
“Nothing to—are you kidding me? Honey, that was a county-wide, school-board emergency hearing and you spoke in front of hundreds of people—not counting anyone watching from home.”
Geez, I usually found Sam’s enthusiasm infectious, but right then? Not so much. I reached behind my neck and tried to massage some of the tension away.
“Who the heck even watches public access?” I muttered as a thought slowly dawned on me. “Wait a sec…how did you hear about the whole thing? I know I didn’t tell you about it.”
Samantha’s eyes went off to the side as she bit her bottom lip. “Would you believe it if I told you I knew because we’re just that much in sync with one another, like twins?”
I sat back in my chair, crossing my legs while folding my arms in front of me. “Your charms only work on the male species. Remember that.”
She blew out an exasperated breath, sending those wayward auburn strands of hers forward, then right back in her face. She pushed them away with her hand.
“Fine. It was Natalie who texted me about it, no thanks to you, so I made sure to get a DVD of the hearing. I watched it yesterday.” She gave me a soft smile, her expression just like our mom’s. “You were awe-inspiring, Jess. If I’m ever playing a role where I have to make an impassioned Stand by Me kind of speech? I swear, I’m taking pointers from you.”
Of course it was Natalie. Not only did she work at the same school as I, but she had also grown up in the neighborhood, so she knew my sister. Plus, she had a big mouth and would want Samantha to know what I was up to.
“I do not find you amusing. Not one bit,” I responded, desperately trying to hide how happy her praise made me. As much as I loathed being the center of attention, having my big sister proud felt good. That said, there was no way I was going to admit that to her out loud. “Now can we get back to what we need to do?”
We were on a Skype call on my laptop, while I was sitting at my dining-room table. Well, on the space that used to function as my dining-room table, but now served as a converted wedding-planner space. Its entire surface was covered—very neatly in organized piles, mind you—in a variety of wedding paraphernalia, such as sample wedding invites and menus, place cards, and preliminary guest lists.
“Absolutely.” She threaded her fingers together in front of her and sat up straight, as if she were in a classroom. “Fire away, Ms. Lockhart!” Then, she winked at me. I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back a giggle but failing miserably, because—let’s face it—she was totally adorable.
“Dear Lord,” I muttered, shaking my head, “that man never stood a chance, did he?”
“That man” was my sister’s fiancé—Kyle Masterson—whose Southern charm and whorish reputation could’ve made him a perfect candidate for one of my romance novels. But he wasn’t some cursed land baron or rogue pirate in search of lost treasure and, instead, finding his salvation in the shape of a woman. He was just a guy, a divorce attorney, of all things. But as far as I was concerned, he was a magician—a snake charmer, even. Not that my sister was a snake. Samantha was the most beautiful, salt-of-the-earth, best friend of a sister a woman could ever hope to have. That said, she had been untamable, a man-eater before Kyle came along, but no longer. My big sister was getting married in the spring, only eight months from now.
“Now, Jess, I’ve got, like, ten minutes, before I have to get into hair and makeup,” she fussed, blowing stray hairs out of the way of her pixie features again.
“And I still can’t believe you took on a new play right before your wedding,” I scolded, even though I already knew it was an exercise in futility. The minute I heard she had been offered the role of Ophelia in a modern rendition of Hamlet without even having to audition, I knew she wouldn’t be able to turn it down, especially since it was a production being tested for a Broadway run.
“It’s almost over, Jess.” She shrugged me off. “Besides, you and I both know you’re only happy when you’re in charge of all the details. I’m not the one who’s been dreaming of my wedding since I was old enough to wipe my own ass.”
I cringed, although you’d think I’d be used to my sister’s dirty mouth by now. “Lovely sentiment. How is it possible you look like an angel but have the mind and mouth of the devil?”
Samantha let out a laugh, a booming roar out of a pint of a woman. “Aw, c’mon. That’s nothing for me.” She looked at the time on her phone. “All right, now I have less than eight minutes. Let’s do this already.”
“Okay, okay.” I waved my hand at the screen and flipped lightning fast through my binder to get to the section I wanted. “Ah! Here it is.” I was actually bouncing up and down on the edge of my seat, just like one of the kids in my school. “I booked the caterer you guys wanted and I got us an appointment, in a few weeks, at that bridal salon Kyle’s mother recommended and they have samples of both the dresses I thought would be perfect for you.”
“You mean the one she insisted we go to unless we want to ‘run the risk of looking like a bunch of trailer trash running ’round loose in a barnyard orgy’?” She playfully mimicked Kyle’s mother’s South Carolinian accent. “‘Of course, maybe y’all do things different than we do in the real South.’” She wiped the corner of her eye while her shoulders bobbed up and down with her silent laughter, but she continued with her impression. “‘Never pictured my Kyle gettin’ married at all, much less to a working girl.’”
My mouth fell open, just like that barnyard door her future mother-in-law was talking about. “Did she actually say that to you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Samantha answered, not looking too bothered.
I could feel my face grow hot, my skin turning pink as well, which always happened when I became angry or embarrassed. “That woman has a lot of nerve saying such things to you! Does she realize you’re a third-generation Yalie? Does she know you’ve won the Helen Hayes Award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Play—twice? That’s not to mention all your touring work and national commercials!”
My sister gave one of those radiant smiles of hers, the kind that could light up a stage all on its own. “She knows. It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
I studied my sister’s face on the screen and
only saw peace and contentment in her lavender eyes. I let out a held breath and nodded. “All right. I will. For now. But if that woman dares to give you a hard time again, especially when you don’t have Mom and Dad here to stand up for you, then I’m going to—”
Suddenly, I heard a knock on my back door in the rhythm of “Shave and a Haircut”, which meant it could only be one little person. She was short for her age, so I could only see a shock of her naturally white-blonde hair through my back kitchen window.
I also caught a glimpse of the most gorgeous shade of pale, sea-foam-green eyes stare back at me. Hopeful and wild. Freckles the color of dark sand dusted over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, but it was her smile—that gap-toothed, almost square, guileless smile that slayed me every time I saw it.
“Is that Piper?” Samantha asked.
“Yeah, I’m going to go.”
“Yep, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
We blew each other a kiss and I hit the shutdown button. Before I even had a chance to get my hand on the doorknob, however, Piper was flying through the door.
“Why don’t you and your sister ever say goodbye? You always blow kisses to each other instead. That’s weird.”
I stopped, placing my feet together, back straight, arms folded, with chin raised and left eyebrow arched. “Piper—” my tone warned, “—what have we discussed before?”
The child scrunched her shoulders up to her ears. “Oops! I forgot, Ms. Jessica!” She backed up and closed the door.
Well, well, I thought. That’s real progress. When she had first moved onto Tazewell Road in my hometown of Vienna, Virginia, Piper had little impulse control. At least now she was self-correcting. Well, almost.
She knocked and, this time, waited for me to open the door. I noticed how she was copying my stance: feet together and back ramrod straight. I bit the inside of my cheek in order to keep a straight face. Piper tentatively met my eyes.
Girl Breaker Page 1
