Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  He was born for this.

  “Blue Lake!” Cole hollered into the microphone. “How you doing tonight?”

  The crowd went haywire, standing, cheering, and waving their arms in the air. He gazed over their heads, out across the grounds, to where the vineyards grew behind the amphitheater area. Tiny lights had been set up along the edges of the rows as if to highlight the roses growing there.

  Rachael had said roses were planted to detect disease.

  He shook her out of his head and dug into the first notes of the first song. Ronnie fell into line, wailing on the drums behind him. As the first verse started up, Cole’s gaze landed on a blonde in the front row. She was wearing black, just as Rachael had been tonight, and her hair was straight, falling in front of her face. She could’ve been Rachael’s sister…a much plainer sister, but still.

  He’d forgotten to ask whether or not Rachael had any siblings.

  Cole’s lead guitarist bumped him in the shoulder.

  “What’s up, Turner?” JP mouthed, the piercing in the corner of his mouth twitching as he spoke. “You good?”

  Cole nodded.

  Somehow he’d been so lost in thought he missed the first verse completely. Ronnie continued through the chorus, drumming hard and fast, and circled back to the beginning of the song. The crowd cheered louder. It was as if Cole had meant to skip the first verse. As if he’d meant to think about Rachael and forget what the hell he was doing.

  He couldn’t let this happen again.

  Another screw up like last night, and his career wouldn’t recover.

  If he wanted to make something of his life, he had to push Rachael out of his thoughts. If he wanted to prove to his parents that he wasn’t worthless and futureless, someone they could easily discard when things got rough, he had to perform his ass off.

  He strummed the chords and grabbed the mic, kick-starting the song the way it should’ve been the first go-round.

  * * *

  Rachael tightened the blanket around her shoulders as she strolled through the empty rooms in the inn addition. The guest rooms on the second floor were large enough for a bed and dresser. And maybe a chair in the corner near the window. Whoever sat in the chair would have a stunning view of Main Street: the cobblestone road and wood sidewalks, the flowers overflowing wine barrel planters and the homemade candy shoppe across the street. She moved through each room, envisioning how they would feel when they were full of travelers. It may’ve been cold now, but soon it’d be warm and homey. A place they’d long to revisit again and again.

  As she made her way downstairs into the vacant living room, the door joining the addition to the main inn creaked open.

  “Hello?” she asked. “Cole?”

  A gust of wind swept through the room, chilling her to the bone. She huddled into the warmth of the blanket. And then, when she opened her mouth to call for Cole again, a tiny white butterfly flew around the corner. It fluttered its wings and rode the current toward the window leading to the backyard. Landing on the fogged glass, the butterfly rested its wings and stilled. Against the dark night, its wings looked iridescent. Ethereal.

  “Rachael?”

  She jumped, shaking her head when she realized Cole stood in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Show’s over.”

  “I thought you’d send your crew to pick up your things.”

  “No crew.” He took a step closer, and then stopped. “It’s just me.”

  For no particular reason, Rachael searched the glass for the butterfly. It was gone.

  “What is it?” Cole asked, following her gaze to the window. “Someone out there?”

  “No, it’s nothing.” She searched the walls, the floor, the ceiling. No ghostly-white butterfly. She folded her arms over her chest and tucked the blanket in her arms. “How was the concert?”

  A smile turned up the corner of his lips. “I rocked it.”

  Good for him. “I’m glad. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  As she tried to pass by, he touched her shoulder. “Rachael, can we talk?”

  “Why don’t we just leave it?”

  There was nothing to say. He was leaving. She was staying behind. She wanted to stay behind, she reminded herself. It was better for the both of them. There was nothing for him in Blue Lake, and there was no way she’d ever leave.

  They didn’t need to rehash it.

  Every time she thought about it, her heart panged.

  “When I said I wish the whole thing had never happened,” he said, “I meant it. That picture is going to cause such a headache for you and everyone in his town.”

  Her heart pinched so severely, she could’ve sworn it hardened to stone. She didn’t regret anything. Not one moment, one touch, one kiss.

  She couldn’t look at him. “Why are you here?”

  “I feel like I should warn you that Blue Lake is about to turn into a media feeding frenzy.”

  When she finally met his gaze, her heart caught. “You already told me what was going to happen when we were backstage and I think I’ll handle it just fine. Maybe I’ll give the people from the magazine one of my brochures and ask them to stay.” She removed her arm from his grasp. “You know what? I might even give them a discount. It could be good for business, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I think it’ll work out all right for you in the end.”

  Something told Rachael he wasn’t only talking about her reservation book filling up.

  “What will you do?” she asked, stepping back to get some breathing room.

  “What can I do?” He shrugged. “Rita’s going to work her magic to minimize the bad press, starting with checking me out of here tonight. She’s coming with the crew in a few hours to get my things.”

  “You’re leaving tonight?”

  “We thought it’d be better this way.”

  She nodded, not really understanding.

  “Tomorrow morning I’ll make a statement regarding what happened with Tori. I’ll have to apologize for ending things the way I did.”

  “And what will you say about us?”

  The second Rachael spoke the words, she yearned to take them back.

  He closed the distance between them and stopped a breath away. “I’ll say whatever you want. If you want me to say that I kissed you, but you didn’t return my feelings, I will. If you want me to apologize for crossing a line, I’ll do it.”

  Chills scampered up her arms as she gazed into his honey-brown eyes. “What’s the truth?”

  “About us?”

  She nodded quickly.

  “I did cross a line by kissing you when I knew I shouldn’t have. But I don’t regret it.”

  “But you said—”

  “I wish none of this would’ve happened so the coming weeks and months would be easier for you. They’re already calling you a bimbo and that’s only the start of the mud-slinging. It kills me to think of someone hurting you because of something I did.” He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “If I were telling the truth about us, I’d say I kissed you and felt something I hadn’t felt in years.” His deep voice was barely above a whisper. “I’d say that the last few days here with you have been some of the best of my life. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I got to be normal…I’d forgotten how freeing that felt.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed and her stomach dropped.

  “I’d say that it was hard to say goodbye,” he went on, “but that’s what had to happen. That’s what was best.”

  As he cupped her chin in his hand and grazed his thumb over her cheek, Rachael bit back a whimper. They couldn’t be together. She’d known it all along. Too bad the knowledge couldn’t stop the pain.

  “So this is goodbye?” she whispered, heart leaping into her throat.

  “Not quite.”

  He brought his lips down to hers and kissed her softly. Pinching her eyes closed, Rach
ael stood up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. And then she kissed him back. Really kissed him. Thanking him for showing her what she was missing in her life. Tenderly stroking his worries away with gentle sweeps of her tongue against the inside of his mouth.

  She would be all right after this. After him.

  She’d just have to make a solid break in her life. Pre and Post Cole Turner.

  He pulled back, resting his forehead on hers. “That’s goodbye.”

  She struggled to catch her breath and wrap her head around the fact that she might not ever see him again after tonight. He ghosted his hands over her hair, kissed the tip of her nose, and then released her from his grip.

  He left. Turned away and walked out of the room.

  Seconds ticked by in slow, thudding heartbeats.

  “Wait!” she said.

  He spun and they collided, their arms tangling as their mouths met. He wrapped his arms around her waist and bent her against him. She whimpered, melting into him and the bone-scorching heat of his kiss. As the blanket covering her shoulders fell to the hardwood, he cupped her chin and stroked her neck with feathersoft caresses. She still wore the dress from the concert, and as his hands dipped to her breasts, the spaghetti straps fell off her shoulders. He guided them down her arms, until the dress dropped to her waist, revealing her bare chest.

  “Remember when I said before that I liked the color of your bra?” he mumbled, one hand palming her lower back and the other massaging her breast. “I did, but I prefer the color nude much better.”

  The next few moments were a blur of senses. She feasted on his mouth, and shivered when he nipped at her bottom lip. She lost herself in his touch, the way his hands roamed over her body, awakening every nerve. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, awash in the rich, spicy smell of him. Fumbling close to ecstasy, she gripped fistfuls of his hair and crushed his mouth to hers.

  His own passion must’ve been rising, because as their mouths parted, he yanked the shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of his pants. To her surprise, he was naked beneath the denim.

  “Do you always go Commando for concerts?” She found him hard and long and stroked the soft skin over his shaft.

  He groaned into another kiss. “Not always.”

  “Why this time?” She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “I thought I’d surprise you.” Grabbing her dress in both hands, he pulled and stretched the fabric until it shimmied down her hips and fell to the floor. When he saw that she hadn’t worn underwear either, he smirked. “What’s this?”

  “Looks like we had the same idea about the concert’s after-party.”

  He plunged his tongue into her mouth and kissed her with wild abandon. And as he tilted her head back, sliding his mouth over her neck in a heated rush, she took a mental snapshot of the moment. The two of them, naked, their bodies pressed together in the middle of the living room. Moonlight streaming through the windows. An empty hearth beside them and a fuzzy red blanket strewn over the chilled hardwood floor.

  She didn’t need anything but him. This man.

  The one who would leave her.

  As if he read her mind, he threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck and brought her mouth to his.

  Kissing her tenderly, Cole guided her to the floor and settled between her hips. He kissed her without entering her. Braced himself on bent arms, their bodies flush against one another. The pressure of his body felt good and right, but the ache in her middle increased every second he wasn’t inside her.

  The anticipation was too much…

  “Cole,” she whispered against his lips. “Make love to me.”

  He groaned into another kiss and then rose off her quivering body. Reaching into the crumpled pile of clothes, he removed a condom from his jeans pocket, tore through the wrapper and put it on. As he settled over the top of her once more, she gripped his shoulders tightly. Brought him down over her. And as he sheathed himself inside her, she cried out.

  He embraced her. Possessed her body, heart, and soul. Hip to hip, mouth to mouth, they moved together in a passionate rhythm that wrenched a tear from her eye.

  “When you look at me,” he said, breathless, “you see me.”

  “Of course I do.” She rolled her hips in time with his languid thrusts.

  “No, you see me, baby.” He stroked her hair, kissed her open-mouthed, and moved inside her to the beat of her heart. “No one has ever looked at me the way you do.”

  A sense of pride soared through her. And when his hands dipped from her thigh to her backside, her core began to clench around him. The pride that existed before shifted to ecstasy. He held her as she shattered, stroking his hands down her cheeks.

  “You’re beautiful.” His voice was filled with reverence. Total adoration. “I’m going to miss…this.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, but she hid it with a kiss. Cole might not have been able to say what he really meant, but she read between the lines.

  She was going to miss him, too.

  As his muscles strained on the verge his own release, he thrust into her deeper. Harder. Rachael arched back as another orgasm crested. With a throaty moan, Cole gazed deep into her eyes, cried out her name, and filled her with everything he had to give.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “When do you leave?” Rachael asked, lying in the crook between his arm and his shoulder. They’d been lying on the floor for hours, and although she wished for many more, it wasn’t going to happen.

  “The crew was breaking down StoneMill when I left. That usually takes a few hours.” He brushed his hand over her hair in a loving caress. “They should be here to collect my things any minute,” he went on.

  “And you’re sure you don’t want to stay until morning?”

  He kissed the crown of her head. “It’s not that I don’t want to stay. It’s better for everyone if I don’t. I shouldn’t be here when the paparazzi shows up. The situation already looks bad, but if they get a shot of me walking out of the inn in the early morning, it’ll only get worse for you.”

  Worse than finally finding the guy of your dreams only to have him leave?

  “Then we better get moving,” she said. “Wouldn’t want your crew to catch you back here with the innkeeper.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Rachael clutched the blanket to her chest and stood, yanking it from beneath his body. As she wrapped it around her shoulders, Cole shoved his legs into his pants and scooped up the rest of the clothes off the floor. He followed her down the hall into the inn and as they reached the top of the stairs, he weaved his fingers between hers.

  “How many people do you have checking in today?” he asked quietly.

  She shrugged. “A few.”

  “What are you going to make for breakfast?”

  Back to small talk? “Cole, I can’t do this.”

  She pulled toward her room until their arms were outstretched. He pulled back, hauling her against him. “It’s going to be hard for me to leave too, Rach. Tell me your plans, so when I’m driving to Lake Tahoe I can picture you here. And every morning and every night after that.”

  He was going to think of her after this moment? After today? Okay, so that made her feel a little better.

  She sighed against his chest. “I’m going to make biscuits and gravy with toast and homemade jelly on the side.”

  He moaned. “Okay, okay, enough talk about food. Are you going to do anything with the remodel later today?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “And tonight? Any plans?”

  “Cooking dinner for the guests, cleaning up after they hit the sack.” Her heart faltered. “Oh damn it! I forgot I have a date with Joey.”

  His chest deflated against her cheek. “You’re still going to go out with him?”

  “Yeah, I guess, I mean…”

  His hands dropped from her waist.

  “I completely fo
rgot to cancel,” she said, watching Cole’s jaw tick. “I got so caught up in this, in us.”

  “You should go out with him.” The words seemed pulled from Cole’s lips. As if he wanted to say something completely different. “If he’s a good guy, if he’ll be here for you when you need him…you should go.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t want to be with Joey. Didn’t want to be dating him if she could be with Cole instead.

  But she couldn’t.

  She didn’t belong in Hollywood with him, and he didn’t belong in Blue Lake with her.

  “Come here,” he said, tugging her hand toward his room. “I want to show you something.”

  She giggled, but the sound was strained. “Again?”

  “No, not that, you sexy little temptress.” He stroked his hand over hers as he led her to the boxes in the corner of his room…the boxes he’d been so protective over when she’d cleaned up in here the first day. He unfolded the tops and pulled out a stack of photo albums.

  “These are from my childhood,” he said, setting them on the bed and turning back to the box. “They’re all I have left.”

  Sadness leached through her as she watched him dig through his memorabilia. Sweatshirts came out, along with old Rolling Stone magazines—was that a 1967 date she spotted on the cover?—followed by leather-bound notebooks with the pages falling out. And then, when Rachael thought he wouldn’t reach the thing he’d searched for, he pulled out a small wooden box and flipped open the lid.

  “I found music at a desperate time in my life, when I could have gone one of two ways. I could have drowned in depression…or I could’ve channeled my cry for help into my guitar. I chose to write, to play, and that saved my life.” He took out a black guitar pick set on a silver chain and dropped it in the heart of her palm. “This was my first pick. I want you to have it.”

  “What?” She flinched. “No, I can’t take that.”

  “I didn’t know I was standing at a crossroads when I met you, but I was,” he said, staring deep into her eyes. “If I want to have a career in this business, I need to start writing my own songs again. I know that now.”