by Emily Bishop
But why is she infuriating him like this?
Then it hits me: she knows that he doesn’t really want to kill her, and she can distract him. She trusts me to disarm him. Without a word between us, I know we have a plan. My heart gets tight with such love for her.
Jared cocks the gun, though it is still down. “What did you just say?” His face is eerily blank.
“How could you possibly think that I would let you put a baby into that house—”
Jared’s blank face twists again and he goes to step forward, to cross in front of me and attack Roxanne, with or without firing the gun. It’s cocked, but angled at the floor. He’s not looking at me at all. He’s crossing directly in front of me. I have to take it. This is the moment.
My leg flashes out and kicks into his stepping leg. He staggers and the rifle goes off into the ground. Now someone will come. I grip the barrel of the gun quickly, before he can regain his balance, and ram the butt up into his chin. Jared flies backward and slams into the floor in a full sprawl.
Now I have the gun.
Jared’s not getting up. He groans and rolls onto his side, then goes totally limp.
A fine tremble runs all through Roxanne’s body as she climbs to her feet, using the table and the chair for support, and then clings onto my side.
“Blake,” she breathes. Her voice sounds rough. I gaze down at her face, tracked with dry blood.
“Did he—?” I can’t even bear to voice the words. Did he hurt the baby? How much hell did I miss? “Did he hurt you?”
“He only got in one shot, and it was a cheap one,” she tells me. An actual smile blossoms over her lips, and my heart swells with relief.
“You did good.” I settle the shotgun behind us and come wrap my arms around her.
“Thank you.” She buries her face against my shoulder and, for a moment, we’re just pressed together and still. My hand runs slowly up and down her back. “I love you.”
I pull away from her slightly and touch her cheek with my fingertips. “You’ve never said that before.”
“Are you serious? Never?” she wonders.
“Never.”
Her eyes hold mine, and her eyebrows draw together with intensity and sincerity. “I love you, Blake,” she repeats.
My fingertips skate down to her jaw, and her face tilts. Our lips come together and the kiss tastes of blood and sweat and war, but I don’t care. I just want to feel her. I love her, too.
“Then come home,” I plead, running my fingers over her right hand, the one with the knuckles still wrapped in the chain and my house key. “Come home.” Our fingers interlace over the chain, the key pressed between our two palms, and the kiss deepens. Our lips crack open and tongues entwine. For a few seconds, I just drown in her. I can’t even feel the pain. Then we break for air. “Come home,” I breathe against her mouth, ragged now.
A slow grin spreads over Roxanne’s lips, and she nods. “I’m coming home,” she whispers back, winding her free arm around the back of my neck and pulling me down to meet her body. Our fingers still entwine over the key, and she sighs up at the ceiling as I kiss her neck. “I’m coming home.”
Behind us, I hear a deep voice grumble its disapproval. “Who the hell just ruined my 1967 John Lee McCoy nine iron, and is he dead?”
Our lips separate, and Roxanne’s eyes move to Rudy, shuffling down the hallway and holding the back of his head.
“He might as well be,” she tells him, squeezing my hand. I squeeze it back. “He might as well be.”
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One Secret Could Destroy Everything.
Aurora
Fate has taken everything from me. My mother, my home, my happiness.
It’s gained me a bad rep in this town.
I hate every second of it, until Jarryd Tombs strides into my life.
Famous actor and a specimen of perfection.
He’s everything I want. And exactly what I can’t have.
Especially since he’s jeopardized my master plan: To rebuild my image.
But he won’t take no for an answer.
His life is about to implode. And our secret, too.
Jarryd
Aurora is mystery made flesh.
Sexy.
Elusive.
Meeting her was a big mistake. But a beautiful one.
Now, I’ll pay the price.
One night with her will destroy everything I’ve worked so hard to build.
If the press finds out, if my ex finds out, our plans to film in this small town are done.
Money gone with it. And Aurora’s struggling reputation crushed.
That should stop me, but it doesn’t.
I won’t keep “us” a secret anymore.
Chapter 1
Jarryd
Lights sparkled among the tents, and the scent of buttered popcorn drifted out of the entrance to the Moondance Fairgrounds, accompanied by low chatter and the tinkle of music from a carousel.
“You OK, man?” Luke asked, elbowing me. My buddy, a Clark Gable look-alike without the mustache, wore concern like a badge.
“I’m fine,” I replied and took another swig of beer. “If you looked up ‘fine’ in a dictionary you’d find my picture right underneath it.”
FINE: Jarryd Tombs, 6’4”, dark hair, that hooked nose, bulky as hell and busting out of a suit. See also: HEARTBROKEN.
“There aren’t pictures in dictionaries, Jarryd,” Luke replied.
“You see? This is why I need you around, bud. You’ve always got the inside edge. The information that sets me apart from the other actors.”
“Smartass.” Luke cuffed me on the shoulder, and a bit of beer splashed from my can.
“Now look what you made me do. How am I s’posed to drown my sorrows if you make me spill it?” I forced a half-smile—I couldn’t produce any other kind right now.
“Here, you hold the others. I’ll pay the entry fee.” Luke nodded to the tiny stall nearby and handed me the pack of beers.
I swung the Bud Lights back and forth as we approached the entrance to the fairgrounds, drawn on by the promise of one huge-ass bag of popcorn. “Extra butter,” I muttered.
“What’s that?”
“I said ‘extra butter.’” I didn’t make any sense. but I was allowed this, for once. Tonight, I didn’t have to have it together. Work wasn’t on the agenda. All I had ahead of me was a long night of melancholy, food, and beer.
“Hello? Anybody in there?” Luke tapped on the window in the stall.
“Just a sec.” A scraping, the sound of zipper—what the hell?—and finally, a guy, thin as a rake and sporting a pair of wireframe glasses, scooted around the side of the stall, tugging on his pants. “Hey, there. You want in?”
“Depends on what you mean by that,” I said.
Luke waved me to quiet. “Yes, we want two tickets, please.”
“Two tickets.” The stall guy opened the door then then paused and scanned me. “You look familiar.”
“I’m nobody,” I replied and stifled a beer burp. “An illusion.”
“Is he drunk?” Stall Guy asked. “He looks a little –”
“Just tipsy.”
“Then I can’t let you in, sorry. No alcohol allowed on the property.”
“This isn’t alcohol,” I replied, lifting the Bud Light. “It’s elixir. The stuff of the gods. This is the lifeblood of the ancients.”
“Uhhh.”
Luke rolled his eyes at me. “Actors,” he muttered. “What if we lose the beer?”
“I did not agree to that,” I said.
The forest and the nearby entry to what looked to be an RV Park hazed slightly. Sharp air and those smells. Man, I needed to go on a ride or something, make myself forget.
; It shouldn’t be this difficult to get over a woman. People did this every damn day. Shit, that’s a depressing thought. How many people in the world are heartbroken, right now?
“Cut us some slack?” I caught the tail end of Luke’s question.
“I don’t know, man.”
“Look, we’ll leave the beers out here. We’re not that drunk. I’ll pay double for the tickets if I have to.”
Stall Guy wriggled his nose, scratched it.
“This is a special circumstance, you see,” Luke said and lowered his voice. He cast a furtive glance in my direction. “My man here, he’s lost his fiancée.”
“No shit,” Stall Guy said and didn’t sound too bothered.
“He walked in on her with another—”
“That’s enough,” I said, a whip-crack command. “No need to spread it to the locals, Luke.” This was supposed to be a low-key visit to Moondance, and to the fairgrounds.
“All right. I guess I can let you in.” Stall Guy eyed the beers. “But you’ll have to, uh, leave those with me. I’ll confiscate them, yeah.”
Confiscate. Another word in the dictionary, this one with the note See: Drink Greedily underneath it.
“Fine, that’s fine,” Luke said.
We shuffled to the front, while Stall Guy darted inside, opened the window, and clicked on a tiny light inside. It cast weird shadows down his nose. Kind of made him look like an oversized rat.
“Here you go,” he said, handing over the tickets and taking Luke’s cash. He accepted the beers from me then then did a double take. “Wait a second, you’re that guy. You’re that actor. What’s his name?”
“Jarryd Tombs,” Luke said, proudly.
“Nobody. I’m nobody. Like I said, I’m an illusion.” We took our tickets and wandered inside. I made a beeline for the popcorn stall and purchased two massive bags.
The girl beside the machine grinned at me. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” She tipped a striped cap to one side. “Aren’t you Jarryd Tombs?”
“Yes,” I replied. Much good that it’d done me. Jarryd Tombs, the workaholic actor who’d been engaged to the hottest A-list celebrity in Hollywood. And then you found her fucking someone else.
How long was this weird ache in my chest supposed to last? It’d been two weeks, for god’s sake.
“That’s—wow. It’s so nice to meet you,” the girl gushed, pink-cheeked. She had to be around sixteen years old, with dark brown hair and doe eyes. I’d seen this look hundreds of times. It meant one thing only. “I’m a huge fan. Look, I know you’re here to enjoy yourself, but I wondered if maybe—uh, could I maybe have an autograph?”
“He’s not doing that tonight,” Luke said, firmly.
“No, that’s OK.” I patted my buddy on the shoulder. “I’d be happy to give you one. What’s your name?”
“Felicity,” she said.
Thunk. A stone weight dropped in my stomach. Felicity. The same name as my ex.
“Are you OK? You’ve gone pale.” The girl gave Luke the bags of popcorn and wiped her hands down the front of her striped uniform.
“Fine,” I said. “Do you have a pen?”
“Right here.” She scooped up a pen, the end all chewed up in classic teenager style, and an empty popcorn bag. “Thank you so much!”
“Dear Felicity,” I said, as I wrote out the words, gritting my teeth. “Keep working hard and you’ll achieve your wildest dreams. Love, Jarryd Tombs.”
“Oh, wow.” She took it, reverent. “Wow, wow, wow. Thank you so much. That’s such a nice thing to say. Best autograph ever. My sister’s going to be so jealous! She skipped out on working tonight.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I replied then then glanced around the grounds. “It’s pretty quiet around here. People don’t like fairs?”
“Oh, it’s late, and there are clouds gathering, see? We usually shut earlier on storm days. Most of the stalls are closing up at the moment,” the girl said.
“Is there anything we can do—anything still open?” Luke asked and shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
I took my bag from him and did the same. “Oh man, this is good,” I said.
“Well, hmm.” Felicity pouted her lips. “The carousel’s still going, but, uh, you might be a little big for that.”
I pictured myself on a carousel horse and managed a chuckle. “What else?”
“What about the Ferris wheel?” Luke asked.
“Already closed, sorry. But there’s a new tent out here.” The girl’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been meaning to go myself. Look there, see, the velvety one? It’s the fortune-teller’s tent.”
“A fortune-teller,” I said, flatly. I’d never bought into that type of thing.
“That’s right. The woman in there is such a sweetheart,” Felicity said. “She read my palm the other day, for fun while she was waiting for her popcorn, and she was so nice about it. And pretty, too.”
“A fortune-teller, eh?” Luke asked. “That’s interesting. Don’t you think that’s interesting, Jarryd?”
“Not particularly.”
“You have to try it,” the girl said. “You’ll like it. And her. She’s so nice.”
I didn’t see myself liking any woman for a long time, not romantically. Ridiculous. That’s not what the kid means. The fortune-teller is probably in her sixties.
“Come on, Jay, do it,” Luke said. “Get out of your comfort zone for once. Maybe she’ll tell you your future.”
I eyed the velvety tent, shrouded in mystery. A purple-lettered sign planted in the ground outside read: Mistress Mystery.
“You won’t regret it,” the teenager said.
I hedged. What harm could it do? Shit, it might even be fun, interesting, and the tent itself gave off an atmosphere of mystery. Candlelight flickered within, and the tent’s flap hung slightly open, providing a glimpse of its interior—a collection of crystals, a bookshelf, and a shadow that shifted along the wall. The silhouette of curvy woman.
“I’ll try it,” I said.
“Have fun,” Luke replied.
“You’re not getting yours done?”
“Nah, I already see my future. A warm bed and a hangover in the morning.” He paused and looked up at the gathering storm clouds. “Besides, you know how I am about storms. You go on ahead, Jay. I’m going to hit the hay. Tell me about it tomorrow, all right?”
I shrugged.
In the distance, thunder rolled, and a cold wind picked up and buffeted the outside of the tent, tugging at my suit jacket. I didn’t look back but hunched over and entered the tent, immersing myself in the scent of flowery incense and something else. Something illusive.
I halted just inside.
A woman with long, raven curls swaying past her shoulders, stood within, back to me. She wore a silken blouse, just transparent enough to hint at the curves beneath it, and a long skirt that swayed each time she moved her ample hips. This was her? This was the fortune-teller?
Damn, I’d come to the right place after all.
Chapter 2
Aurora
Candles flickered on the top shelf of my bookcase, right beside a collection of crystals, each which caught the light and refracted it. I moved from the shelf to the small table in the center of the room and placed an amethyst crystal, the size of a fist, on the velvet cloth.
It’d been a pretty slow night. I probably should’ve packed it all up, but I was in the mood for a little fun. A little mystery. One last tarot reading, if only for myself.
I hurried back to the bookcase and picked up my favorite card set—I had many but this one, drawn in the Rider-Waite style, artsy and colorful, had been my mother’s.
“Mistress Mystery?”
I jumped and scattered tarot cards to the ground. “Shoot!” I spun around and faced the visitor.
The man who’d entered sucked the air out of the space. He stood just inside the tent flaps, straight as a rod, towering in a fancy suit.
His hair, mahogany and w
indswept, fell across a tan forehead creased only slightly by what had to be worry more than age. Crystal blue eyes stared at me, set either side of a slightly hooked nose. Luscious lips—not too thick—centered above a strong chin, covered in stubble.
I lost my breath.
Gorgeous. That was the word to sum him up, except it wasn’t enough.
My gaze danced lower, over the crisp suit—had to be a designer label—which was tailored to perfection and fit his broad shoulders, a barrel-chest.
I stopped myself from going any lower than the tapered waist. Staring at a customer’s crotch was a no-no of epic proportions.
He swayed slightly on the spot, he was tipsy. But not drunk, if the glint in those blue orbs was anything to go by, and that suit screamed businessman. Or full of shit.
Did I enter the Twilight Zone? That’s Jarryd Tombs! I wasn’t exactly an E! Entertainment nut, but this guy was the hottest of the hot, in more ways than one. He’d starred in the Oscar-winning thriller movie, Eye See You, among others. And he was good, too, not like those actors who acted like ‘themselves’ in every movie.
“I—” I cleared my throat. Professionalism, darling. This isn’t your first rodeo. “Welcome,” I said. “Please, take a seat at the table. You’ve come for your fortune, yes?”
He stared at me a while longer, a strange expression haunting his perfect features. “Yes, if that’s not too much trouble.” The actor bent and picked up a few of the tarot cards, stumbled and caught himself on the table. “Sorry about this.”
“No, no, that’s quite all right. I didn’t expect anyone so late.”
“I can leave if you’d prefer.” He was so stiff shouldered—broad shouldered, too, yum—but tense all over.
“Take a seat, please,” I repeated. I had a strict policy about turning people away. I didn’t do it unless they made me super uncomfortable. People needed help in most places, and they didn’t realize how much they needed it until they came to me.
Jarryd Tombs handed me the cards he’d collected, and we touched. Electricity sparked through me, and I inhaled sharply. Wow. He’s magic.
The moment lingered, and he plumbed the depths of my soul with a look. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
