Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  “Such as?”

  “Horseback riding, canoeing, hiking, swimming, those sorts of thing. Living the life—if only for three months a year.”

  She smiled. “You were a natural athlete. Still are.”

  “Thanks.”

  “At the time, you didn’t seem to resent us.” She leaned her chin on her hand and regarded him with pensive eyes. “Did you?”

  “Only when you got me in trouble. Your skinny dipping exploit nearly got me fired from a job I badly needed.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with skinny dipping. Frankly, the fewer clothes I wear the happier I am,” she said with a shameless smile. “I’m sure you’ve done it too.”

  “It’s one of the perks of living in isolation. But a little girl has no business swimming buck-naked in broad daylight, especially when at thirteen you already had a woman’s figure.”

  “I thought everyone had gone horseback riding. How was I to know you were still around?”

  “Your socialite mama was pretty scandalized that I had seen her precious little darling in her birthday suit. Luckily, the camp director didn’t budge in defense of me.”

  “I went to bat for you too,” she reminded him.

  He nodded. “I remember.”

  “Anyway, all that’s in the past. You didn’t get fired and you’re a success story.”

  He took a long swig of the wine. The admiration on Veronique’s face ate at him like acid. She had an untarnished image of him from her childhood that hadn’t been damaged by all the media hoopla. Her loyalty humbled him.

  “Hardly,” he said. “Let’s not forget the past year’s debacle.”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “You’re still that successful, self-made man, Nick. What I admire most is your integrity. Nobody can take that away from you unless you let them. I never believed a word of all that crap the media put out there.”

  “Thanks,” he said, touched by her faith in him. Even as a child, she’d been his champion. Especially when she’d stood up to her Mom after the skinny dipping episode and fought for him like a tigress.

  “I want to present your side of the story.” Veronique’s green eyes blazed with zeal. “When people hear you—”

  “No. Let’s change the subject,” he cut in abruptly. He felt badly when her eyes clouded with hurt, but knowing Ronnie, she’d continue to try to wear him down unless he was firm.

  She lapsed into silence, a rarity for her. He should have enjoyed the respite, but for some reason he felt like talking tonight—just not about the past year’s calamity. He hated to admit it, but Ronnie’s lively personality entertained him.

  Nick watched her finish the minestrone soup and share her sandwich with Baxter, who gratefully licked her hand after each morsel. At camp, she had always had bits of apple or carrots in her pockets to feed her horse before and after riding it.

  When she finished eating, her green eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed pink with vitality. She looked eager to take on the world as she pushed her chair back and rose from the table.

  Nick snagged her wrist and tugged her back down. “Not so fast. I have questions for you,” he said, noting how slight her slim wrist felt in his hand.

  “Sure, fire away, Nick.” With a quizzical lift of her brows, she glanced at his hand circling her wrist.

  He released it and asked, “Why were you so spooked earlier?”

  “Spooked? When?” Her feigned innocence annoyed him.

  “When you thought someone was here to see you,” he prompted.

  She shrugged. “You surprised me, that’s all. Nobody knows I’m here. Who would come all the way out here in the middle of a hurricane just to see little ole me?”

  Nick leveled a firm look at her. “I want the truth. All of it.”

  She drummed her fingernails on the table.

  He covered her hand with his to stop the annoying sound. Big mistake, her hand felt incredibly soft and delicate under his, giving him a jolt of pleasure.

  “I’m waiting. Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  “Heck no!” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Have you made any enemies lately?”

  She shifted in the seat, and her round breasts swayed slightly drawing his appreciative gaze. She might look sexy as hell in his T shirt, but he’d have the truth, and he’d have it now.

  “Maybe.” She nibbled on her lower lip reflectively. “A few, I guess. But in my job, that’s inevitable.”

  “Sounds like you need to be careful, Ronnie. Enemies in your line of work are dangerous.”

  “Let’s not talk about that.” Veronique stroked the wineglass stem with her pointer finger and kept her eyes averted. She blithely ignored his concern as she took a sip of wine and said in a light tone, “I’m here to do human interest stories after Hurricane Abby. I had fun interviewing a group in Fort Myers called the ‘preppers’.”

  “The preppers?” He gave her a dubious look. “Do they work in a hospital?”

  Veronique chuckled. “Nooo, but I guess it sounds like they do. They’re dedicated to being prepared for any emergency, whether it’s a natural disaster like a hurricane or an economic one. Some of their members are pretty hard core.”

  Nick’s brows drew together as he regarded her keenly. “What do you mean by that?”

  “They own farm animals and grow their own food so they can have enough provisions for three or four months in case of an emergency. Many are trained in weaponry too.”

  “How big is the group?”

  “It’s estimated at about three million throughout the U.S.”

  “Interesting. Should make a good story.”

  “Thanks. That’s not the only story I want to write.” She paused and gave him a hesitant smile. “Actually… I was hoping you’d give me an exclusive interview.”

  He wanted to wring her neck. “No. I already told you I won’t do any interviews,” he said in a taut voice. “If it wasn’t for the storm, you’d be gone by now.”

  “Please reconsider.” She watched him with earnest eyes. “You’ve lived life by a strong code of ethics and high ideals. It’s not fair the way the press has treated you. I can help clear your name.”

  “No interview. You’re not going to wear me down, damn it. Don’t mention it again,” he gritted out forcefully.

  “Fine, I won’t.” Veronique’s shoulders started to slump, but just as quickly she snapped them back and straightened her spine. She laid a slim hand on his biceps that felt delicate on his arm. Once again, he was struck by the soft silkiness of her skin.

  “Thanks for putting me up tonight. It’ll give us a chance to catch up after all these years.”

  She was a fresh one, acting like they were old friends. He couldn’t resist having a little fun with her as he said cryptically, “If you knew the history of this house you wouldn’t want to stay even one night.”

  Veronique’s eyes sparkled in a lively face awash with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

  He took his time scratching Baxter’s ears and head before he answered, adding to her eagerness. “A few years back there was a gruesome murder/suicide committed in this mansion. It’s said to be haunted by ghosts.”

  She leaned forward, her face flushed with excitement. Her appetite for details and information was unquenchable. He gave a short bark of laughter. It sounded so rusty he realized he hadn’t laughed in a long, long time. Another reason he had to send her packing. Being around Ronnie, one was bound to laugh with the way she lived exuberantly. She had a ready smile and a playful twinkle in her eyes that made him want to pull her in for a long, deep kiss.

  Her arched brows knitted as she gave him a puzzled look. “Why did you laugh?”

  “You’re a nosy little cat,” he said, making sure not to say sexy instead of nosy.

  She grinned, eyes sparkling. “Not nosy, just interested.”

  He remained silent, knowing she wouldn’t let it go.

  “Tell me about the ghosts. When exactly did the murder happen?
” she asked.

  “’Bout five years ago. Nobody comes around here except my housekeeper and the gardener.”

  “Really?” Veronique’s bright eyes widened. “Do they know about the ghosts?”

  “Why so many questions?"

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “What’s wrong with asking questions? You throw out a story about ghosts and a murder/suicide, and then expect me not to want the facts.”

  “Some other time.” Nick’s eyes zeroed in on her. “You were planning on staying here from the beginning, weren’t you?”

  She blinked. “Why do you say that?”

  “While you were in the shower, I moved your car up close to the side of the house and I found your suitcase in the trunk.”

  “Oh, well…” She had the grace to look sheepish.

  “No more tricks and we’ll get along while you’re here. You can stay until it’s safe for you to leave and then it’s adiós. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she said amiably. “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

  Right. The little schemer was probably already hatching a plan to stay longer.

  “Where did you put my suitcase?” she asked.

  “In the first bedroom down the hall, past the bathroom. I’m going to listen to the news now.”

  “I’ll join you as soon as I rinse the dishes.”

  Nick nodded and headed for the living room on stiff legs. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the tempting jiggle of her cute ass beneath his T-shirt and the curve of her bare breasts nestled inside his shirt.

  Down, boy, he told himself with a wry shake of his head.

  Chapter Five

  A booming crack of thunder jarred Veronique awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and switched on the lamp beside the bed. Hurricane Abby was finally here.

  She usually slept naked, but tonight she had slept in Nick’s T-shirt and bikini panties. She ran to peek out the window, but stopped when she remembered it was shuttered. She hefted her purse, which carried her life’s essentials and reporter’s tools, onto her shoulder, grabbed a flashlight and then inched her way down the corridor in search of Nick’s room. Just as she turned a corner, an earsplitting crash stopped her cold—that and the impact of bumping into something solid.

  “Oomph!” she said, colliding smack into Nick’s bare chest. “What was that noise?”

  “I’m not sure. Could be one of the big trees was hit by lightning.” Nick steadied her waist. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” It wasn’t the hurricane, but Nick’s strong hands on her that was making her weak-kneed. She forced steel into her backbone and eased out of his grip. “I’m pretty stoked about the hurricane. It’s going to make a great story.”

  Nick cursed. Obviously, he didn’t share her excitement.

  “Come on.” He grabbed her hand, switched on the hall light and pulled her towards the master suite, with Baxter panting at his heels. When they entered, a crackling bolt of lightning struck, followed by a blast of deafening thunder. The hall light went out and the house was draped in darkness. “Quick, get into the master closet.”

  Veronique aimed her flashlight at Nick’s hard-muscled torso above his faded jeans. Awestruck by the sheer immensity of his strength, she stared at the beautiful lines of his sculpted body.

  “Hurry up. We’re in for the worst of it.” He grabbed a yellow industrial flashlight from the nightstand and tugged her along.

  Once inside his closet, Veronique’s nostrils were greeted by the scent of cedar walls. She inhaled deeply, thrilled to have a firsthand look at his closet without having to snoop. The cedar-lined room was about eight by ten feet, filled mostly with T-shirts, jeans, and khakis.

  “Nice,” she murmured as she settled cross-legged on the oak plank floor. Crooning soothing words, she pet Baxter who plopped down beside her. Veronique enjoyed another glimpse of Nick before he switched off his flashlight.

  “Turn yours off too,” he said. “We need to save the batteries for later.”

  Veronique complied and listened to the whistling wind and the rain pinging against the metal roof. She wished they could be outside to witness it.

  “Thanks for letting me stay,” she said, scooting to sit beside Nick, thigh to thigh.

  Baxter groaned a few times, settled near them and soon was making little snoring noises.

  “I know Baxter ate a lot, but just listen to him. He’s sleeping like we drugged him,” Veronique said in disbelief. “He’s the only dog I’ve ever known not to freak out over a storm.”

  “I’ve never seen a dog sleep through a storm either. He’s pretty mellow.”

  “Could be he’s tired after all that playing he did in the rain this afternoon.”

  Nick nodded, but didn’t add to the conversation.

  Veronique smiled, imagining what Teddy and Natasha would say if they knew she was holed up in a closet with Nick. The three of them used to sit for hours, giggling and imagining that their favorite, cute counselor had favored one of them with a special smile or some form of attention. Nick had been strong and mature for his age—much more than the other camp counselors. While the others had goofed off at night, he’d been up late reading or studying. He’d always be her Jake Ryan from her favorite teen movie,“Sixteen Candles”.

  On impulse, she touched Nick’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. His jaw tensed beneath her lips. “What was that for?” He sounded gruff at being caught off guard.

  “Just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you taking me in. You’re the best, Nick,” she said, meaning every word. Her cool fingers touched the rigid side of his face.

  He clasped her wrist and lowered her hand. “You’re playing with fire, Ronnie.”

  “If you’re fire, I want to get burned,” she said without hesitation. She’d often been criticized for being too impulsive, but she couldn’t hold back. Not now when Nick was seeing her as a woman. This might be her only chance. There was no turning back.

  “Sweet talk isn’t going to get you that interview,” he said edgily.

  He thought she was seducing him for an interview? She should have been insulted, but this was Nick, and he’d been burned one too many times by the people he’d trusted. She understood why he would say that.

  “It’s not sweet talk. I’ve had a crush on you forever. Wasn’t it obvious at summer camp?” she asked, touching his stiff arm.

  “No. You were too busy cooking up trouble for me to notice.” He sounded surprised.

  “After that last summer at camp, I kept up to date on all your achievements over the years, and I couldn’t be prouder. I always knew you were a leader and that you’d be a huge success. You are the most decent and hardworking person I know. I meant it when I said you’re the best, Nick.”

  “Come on,” he said, sounding skeptical.

  “It’s true I’m being sincere,” she said, edging so close she felt the heat emanating from his powerful body. Nick’s sexual energy crackled around them and she wondered if he could hear her wildly galloping heartbeat.

  He surprised her by cupping her chin and tilting her face upward. She went still as he held her face in his hands and bent his head to cover her mouth with his. He pressed his warm lips against hers and kissed her slowly, triggering a wave of pleasure so acute, she caught her breath. His tongue teased the seam of her lips until she parted them and he explored the contours of her mouth, his tongue deliberately sliding and stroking against hers, tasting her thoroughly.

  Veronique wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, welcoming everything—his erotic tongue, his heady taste, the firm pressure of his mouth on hers. Oh God, he smelled divine. His male scent drew her like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  She moaned into his mouth as his strong hands lowered from her face and slid down to stroke her sensitized back. She pressed her breasts against his hard chest and they pebbled into tender points as he held her anchored to him.

  Heavy, drugging desire formed a delicious pull in her lower b
elly, pulsing inside her, building a restless ache between her thighs. She yearned for him, wanted him so badly she could barely catch her breath. Her skin was chafed where his shadowy beard had rubbed against and her mouth felt swollen and achy from his hard, hungry kisses. She didn’t want to break contact, not even for a second.

  She placed a tentative hand on his muscled thigh, and when he shifted positions, her knuckles brushed against his hard erection, but she didn’t move her hand. Nick groaned deeply into her mouth and pushed her hand away.

  Veronique watched him draw in rough, jagged breaths. His nostrils flared and his breathing was labored as he swore under his breath. Sexual tension emanated from him like a force field and every muscle in her body tensed with longing. She bit her lip to stop from pleading for him to continue. He’d almost lost control, but there was no way Nick was going to let an investigative reporter into his well-guarded life, especially when he didn’t trust her. After his ex-wife’s deception, he probably didn’t trust any woman. He’d become a loner, emotionally and physically.

  Heat crept up from Veronique’s neck, making her cheeks flame. Grateful for the darkness surrounding them, she darted up from the floor, rousing Baxter from his nap. The dog stirred and started to get up.

  “Sit, Bax. Sit.” Nick patted the dog’s rump until he sat back down, panting. “Where are you going?” His hand on Veronique’s calf raised a trail of goose bumps on her skin, and she shivered as she slid open the closet door.

  She couldn’t stay there blushing like a fool. She felt splintered, her feelings laid bare and rejected by a man too distrustful to love again. It was painful to admit, but she understood where he was coming from. She herself was terrified of falling in love. It always led to pain and suffering. She’d seen what it had done to Maman, and many of Veronique’s friends were already divorced after only a few years of marriage.

  The weighted atmosphere of Nick’s frustration and unspoken regret set her nerves on edge. She needed an escape plan and suddenly remembered the half-finished bottle of wine on his kitchen table. She could use a bit of vino to compose her tattered emotions.

  “There’s something missing from our hurricane party,” she blurted out and instantly felt stupid for referring to what they’d just shared as a party. What was wrong with her? She was unhinged by his nearness…and his kisses. Hot, carnal kisses that had robbed her of her senses. He wasn’t the first guy who’d ever kissed her, but he was the best. So skilled was he that no man would ever measure up.