Legacies of Love: Six Seductive Stories to Steal Your Heart

by C. L. Roman

  I blew out a long breath. “It’s kind of a crazy story.”

  Jude chuckled. “Didn’t I just bare my soul to you? C’mon. I’m an awesome listener, I promise.”

  “Well . . .” I finished my coffee, and Jude automatically reached for the pot to refill it. “I have this friend. Actually, she’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids, but for a while now—a very long while, if I’m being honest—I’ve started to feel—” I cleared my throat. “Maybe a little different. I want more from her than just friendship.”

  “Mmmmm.” Jude nodded. “And does this friend feel the same way?”

  “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I’ve never asked. I’ve kind of hinted now and then, but I’m a freaking coward, I guess. I was kind of worried that if I came clean, I might lose her as a friend. And that would kill me.”

  “Has she ever said or done anything that might make you think she wants more, too?”

  I’d thought about this a little bit before. Maybe for long hours as I lay in my lonely bed. “Sometimes, I think she does. She’ll look at me a certain way, or smile, or touch me . . .” I coughed a little. “Uh, you know. On the arm or the shoulder. About a month ago, she asked me why I’d never had a serious relationship. I told her that I was waiting for the right woman to realize that she loved me. Sierra got kind of flustered, and she never brought it up again.”

  “Ah. I see.” She studied me. “Still not clear on why that brought you to Crystal Cove.”

  “I’m getting there.” I turned my coffee mug in a small circle. “Her birthday was two days ago. I took her to Vegas, because as much as she’s traveled, she’d never been there, and it had become this running joke between us. I do something special for her every year on her birthday, so I’d told her this was the year she’d lose her Vegas virginity.”

  Jude’s lips twitched. “Nice. Go on.”

  “Apparently, though, right before I picked her up to go, she got a birthday present from her aunt. It was a bracelet, and Sierra put it on before we left for the airport. We’d been in Las Vegas for a while, and we were sitting in a bar when her aunt called to say that this bracelet has some kind of family legend attached to it—that the woman who wears it is going to find true love within a few days of putting it on. According to Jenny—Sierra’s aunt—it doesn’t matter if the person takes it off—once it’s been on, the damage is done. You’re doomed to fall in love.”

  “Doomed, huh?” Jude straightened up and regarded me with some amusement. “That’s a funny way of looking at falling in love. I’d think most women who were unattached would want that kind of doom.”

  “Those were Sierra’s words, not mine,” I retorted. “She was the one who started freaking out about what her aunt said. She said she wasn’t ready to fall in love and settle down.”

  “Which wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear.” Jude wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, wait, it gets better.” I shifted on the bar stool and pushed the empty coffee mug away. “I said we were in a bar, right? Well, we’d already had quite a bit to drink, and I bought us another round to help Sierra feel better. And then another. About an hour later, when the alcohol still wasn’t helping her to calm down, I came up with what sounded like a perfectly good idea. I suggested that since the bracelet only works on unmarried women, if Sierra got married, she wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

  “Oh, wow.” Jude’s eyes were wide. “What did she say?”

  I sighed. “At first, she thought I was crazy, of course. And then she started to waver a little. When I sensed that, I suggested that we leave it up to fate.”

  “Really? Just how did that work?”

  “We were in Vegas. We played blackjack. Best of five deals. If she won, we didn’t get married. If I won, we did.” With a wry smile, I met Jude’s knowing gaze. “I won every single hand.”

  “And then . . .?” Jude waved her hand. “Don’t leave me hanging here.”

  “We found a chapel, and we got married. We went back to our hotel room—we always share a room when we travel, but we sleep in separate beds, usually. That night, we didn’t.” I felt the flush spreading over my face. “We definitely had a traditional wedding night. I’ll leave it at that.”

  “But something happened, because otherwise, why would you be here, across the country, instead of being off on your honeymoon with your best friend turned wife?” Jude leaned against the counter behind her, crossing her arms over her chest. “Right?”

  “I don’t know exactly what happened, but I can guess,” I said grimly. “I think Sierra panicked and ran. I woke up the next morning alone. The front desk at the hotel said Sierra had checked out but that the room was paid, and I was welcome to have breakfast on her. No one could tell me where she’d gone.” I felt again the frustration and panic that had gripped me yesterday morning. “I called her cell, and it went right to voice mail. I texted her, but there was no response. I started calling everyone I could think of—Sierra’s mom, her friends back home—and no one had heard from her. Finally, I went to the airport to catch our flight home—the one we’d booked originally to fly together—thinking that maybe she was there. And the weirdest thing happened. The cab driver who took me to the airport turned out to be the same one who’d driven Sierra there earlier. And he remembered that she said she was flying to Daytona Beach, to stay in some small town nearby. So with that info, I called her mom again . . . and she told me that Sierra’s cousin lives here.”

  “That’s . . . a pretty incredible tale.” Jude shook her head. “Who’s her cousin? If she lives in the Cove, chances are good that I know her. Or him?”

  “Her,” I confirmed. “Her name is Abby, but Sierra’s mom couldn’t remember her married name off the top of her head. She works at a hotel somewhere around here.” Realization began to dawn on me, and Jude laughed softly, probably at the expression on my face. “Oh, my God. You own both the hotels. Of course, you’d know her.”

  “Yes, I know Abby. She actually still goes by Abigail Donavan professionally, but she’s married to Ryland Kent. And she runs the Riverside Inn. She’s practically part of our family.”

  Relief made me sag against the bar. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. I had visions of having to drive from hotel to hotel, asking for Abby, no last name.” Picking up the glass of ice water, I took a long gulp. “You wouldn’t happen to know if she’s had any unexpected company show up in the last twenty-four hours, would you?”

  Jude shrugged. “Sorry. My son and daughter-in-law are out of town, visiting my daughter in Georgia, so I’ve been pretty busy, holding down the fort here at the Tide. I haven’t talked to Abby since last week.”

  “Okay.” I stood up, stretching out my back. “But at least I know where to start looking. Thanks, Jude.” Digging into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet. “What do I owe you for the coffee?”

  She shook her head, waving her hand. “It’s on the house. That’s the best love story I’ve heard in a long time.” She paused. “Or it will be, provided it has a happy ending. I assume that when you find your girl, you’re finally going to spill your heart, right? You’re going to tell her how you’ve been in love with her for years? And that you want to be with her?”

  “That’s my plan.” I wavered a moment. “But Sierra made it clear on her birthday that she’s not interested in love, long term or settling down. What if she really doesn’t feel that way about me?”

  “Then you walk away gracefully.” Jude reached across the bar and laid her hand on top of mine. “You do whatever you have to do to keep the friendship. But you have to find out.” She tilted her head. “If Logan hadn’t had the balls to finally own up to being in love with me, I’d be in a sorry state now. I’d be alone, and lonely, and miserable—and so would he. We’d both have missed out on a grand love story.”

  I took a deep breath. “You’re right. Okay. Here goes.” I turned to leave and then stopped before I reached the doors. “Thanks, Jud
e. For the coffee, but mostly for the ear. I appreciate it.”

  Jude shot me another wink. “It’s what I do. Now go get that girl.”

  Chapter Three

  Sierra

  The Riverside Inn was one of the most beautiful, peaceful hotels I’d ever visited, and that was saying something; I’d traveled around the world for the past few years, both in my job as assistant to tech genius Martin Kolby and for my own wandering foot pleasure. But there was something so peaceful and almost magically serene about this oasis my cousin and her handsome husband had created.

  My room was on the first floor, with French doors that opened out to a wide veranda. From the wicker rocking chair there, I could see the gently flowing river and hear the muted sounds of nature from the nearby thicket of trees. It was exactly the balm I needed after the past few days of upheaval and confusion.

  A couple strolled past me, wandering hand-in-hand along the winding paved walkways that trailed all over the Inn’s property. I watched as the man leaned down to nuzzle the neck of his lady, and she laughed softly, shivering. He slid one arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him, and she laid her head on his chest. They moved in a rhythm that it seemed only the two of them could feel.

  Sad longing flowed over me, and my throat closed. I felt as though I was about to cry, which was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

  “I must be tired.” I spoke the words aloud. “It must be the jet lag making me emotional.”

  For the most part, I’d been hiding in my room most of the day, since my talk with Abby. I’d made one quick trip into a nearby town to pick up extra undies and some clothes, since all I had was what I’d packed for an overnight in Las Vegas. Otherwise, though, I’d been sitting, and brooding.

  A couple of times, I’d picked up my phone and read the bewildered texts from Blake. He didn’t understand why I’d run away, and he ended each one by telling me that we needed to talk and begging me to call him.

  I knew that calling him was the right thing to do. I might have acted flakey sometimes, but I wasn’t insensitive or shallow. I knew that I’d done something impulsive and insane in Las Vegas. Even if it hadn’t been my idea initially, I should have said no.

  I should have said no because getting married to avoid a stupid family legend was crazy. I should have said no because I was taking advantage of Blake’s good-natured indulgence of my wackiness. And most of all, I should have said no because I wasn’t entirely unaware that for a while now, Blake’s feelings for me might have run deeper than friendship.

  When Abby had asked me if Blake had wanted more from me, if he felt more for me, my knee-jerk reaction had been a swift denial. I was on auto-pilot, playing by the same rules I’d followed for years: if I pretended not to notice the shift, it didn’t really exist.

  I had to pretend, because I honestly wasn’t ready to face the reality. Reality would mean that I had a decision to make: I’d have to examine my own feelings, or I’d have to end the friendship.

  What if I looked forward to seeing Blake more than I did anyone else in the world? What did that matter? And what if when he walked in the door of my house each time, my heart pounded and my face went hot? What if I’d begun obsessing over the way he folded back his sleeves to reveal his muscled forearms? What if I’d begun dreaming about the way his ass looked in his favorite pair of worn jeans, the ones that clung to him, their soft cotton buttery after years of wearing and washing? What if I lived for the sound of his laughter and couldn’t wait to share every detail of my day with him during our nightly Facetime chats?

  What did all that mean? Not a damn thing. We were friends. Best friends. And that’s how friendship worked.

  I couldn’t think about any other possibilities, because doing that would throw open a door into a scary world of what-ifs. What if I let Blake see that I wanted him, and it turned out that he didn’t want me that way? What if we did get together, and it turned out that I disappointed him in some way, made him think less of me? What if we tried dating, and then it didn’t work—as it never seemed to for me—and our friendship was destroyed?

  If wanting Blake was my dream, then losing him altogether was my nightmare.

  Even so, I knew I had to call him soon and offer him some kind of explanation for what had happened in Vegas. But I had to be sure I could handle talking to him without getting emotional. And I had to figure out exactly how to address . . . what had happened in Vegas.

  It wasn’t even the getting married part that flustered me. It was what had happened after the quickie wedding. As my cousin had pointed out, I could remember that part clearly enough, even if everything leading up to it was fuzzy.

  “Sierra.”

  My name had been like a prayer on Blake’s lips. His eyes were dark with need, and his fingers were warm as they skimmed down my bare arms. I’d shivered.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?” In the dim light of the bedside lamp, I watched as he nudged the strap of my dress off my shoulder. “Do you know how many nights I’ve ached for you?”

  My mouth had gone dry, and my heartbeat had sped up. “Tell me.”

  “I’d rather show you.”

  His head dipped low as his lips trailed kisses down my jaw, my neck . . . my fingers threaded through his thick hair, caressing lightly. Blake brushed the silky material of my dress away so that my breasts were exposed, full and heavy, with tips that throbbed for his touch.

  I’d swallowed hard, wondering if I’d somehow fallen headlong into one of my own fantasies . . .

  The sharp knock at my door startled me out of my reverie, and I jumped to my feet. It had to be Abby, coming to check on me. I didn’t know anyone else; the housekeeping staff had already serviced my room, and I hadn’t ordered food.

  “Just a sec,” I called, rising to my feet and making my way to the door. An unexpected breeze fluttered through the open doors to the verandah, and I shivered just a little. It was pleasantly warm here in Crystal Cove, and I’d been comfortable sitting outside in shorts and a T-shirt. But maybe there was a cold front coming through.

  “I knew I should’ve gotten another pair of jeans. Just my luck that Florida’s probably going to have its first blizzard in decades while I’m here.” Preoccupied with muttering to myself, I didn’t bother to check the peephole to see who was knocking.

  But when I swung the door open and recognized who was standing on the other side, I realized my mistake and shut it again, right in his face.

  “Sierra. What the hell? Open the door.” Blake sounded frustrated, but unless I was mistaken, I thought I heard a note of amusement in his voice, too. He sounded the same way he did when we were arguing over something silly and I was taking a stance that he found absolutely ridiculous—yet oddly endearing. I clung to that note like a drowning man clutches a piece of driftwood. Maybe he didn’t hate me.

  “I can’t.” I leaned my forehead against the smooth painted wood.

  “Sure, you can. You just did. And then you slipped, I guess, and slammed the damn door against me. I know it had to be a mistake, because why in the world wouldn’t you want to see me, your best friend?” Blake rattled the knob a little.

  “I always want to see my best friend.” My voice cracked a little. “But I’m not sure that’s who you are anymore.”

  “Sierra, baby.” Now he was almost pleading. “Of course, I’m still your best friend. I’ll always be that. Why would you doubt me?”

  “I don’t doubt you. It’s me. I’m the one who ruined everything.” Turning so that my back was against the door, I slid down to the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees.

  “Nothing is ruined. But we do need to talk. And I’d rather not do it with me standing in the hall while people walk by and stare at me.” He paused, and I heard murmurings and laughter, bearing out what he was saying. “I’ve never been to this town, and I’d rather not have a reputation around here for being some crazy stalker.”

  “I’m not ready to talk yet.
Come back tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think so. The last time I thought we could put off talking, you disappeared in the middle of the night, and I woke up alone.” His voice dropped a few octaves. “Sierra, seriously. I’m not leaving. So you can either ignore me, call your cousin and have her security people throw me off the property, or open the door. I suggest the third option.”

  I wasn’t going to chance calling Abby, because I knew if I did, there was a better than good chance she’d be on Blake’s side. And I couldn’t ignore Blake or leave him out there in the corridor. That would be a shitty thing to do to a man who hadn’t done anything wrong.

  With a heavy sigh and a jumpy stomach, I stood up and turned the knob, stepping back to open the door wide enough for Blake to come inside my room.

  “That’s better.” He pulled me toward him, wrapping his strong arms around me so that I had no choice but to bury my face in his chest. “I like being able to see you better than listening to you through a door.”

  For the span of a long moment, I allowed myself the luxury of leaning into Blake’s steady body. There had always been something so right about the way he held me, as though I was the most precious thing in the world to him. Every soft part of me fit against his hard planes, like we were two puzzle pieces designed to complement each other.

  But that was dangerous thinking. I forced myself to step back away from Blake, sliding my fingers into the back pockets of my shorts. “Okay. Now you’re here. What do you want to say?”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared down at me and folded his arms over his chest. “Where do I start, Sierra? Maybe with . . . why the hell did you take off and leave me alone in Las Vegas?”

  I swallowed and glanced away. “I needed . . . time. And space. I woke up and remembered what had happened that night, and I was mortified.”

  “Why?” He scowled. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Ummm . . .” I rolled my eyes. “I guess you’re right, unless you count getting dummy drunk, freaking out over a silly family legend and then marrying my best friend who was just trying to make me feel better, while he was also dummy drunk. Yeah, come to think of it, it’s true. I didn’t do anything to embarrass myself. What a relief.” Sarcasm oozed from my tone.